Sunday, 7 February 2010



For approximately 1 minute
I was king

The feeling as the ball rolled from my hand,
arrowing straight down the centre of the lane,
mantaining a position of perfection,
as it travelled at the speed of delight,
equal distance between the two gully's.

My own projectile missile,
Target locked on.
Upon Impact,
producing a harmonic sound of an organised crescendo of chaos,
as the ball struck the centre pin.
The catalyst for the chain reaction,
collapsiong all 10 pins.
Nothing left

That was my moment

I'd long ago accepted my position,
as issued by God.
My rank being verbal punchbag,
in the great order of things.

I'm the one you wonna play pool against,
after you've just taken a whipping.

Talk to me for an instant ego boost

My social scene is like a fruit machine
My mates are like the cherries,
always in pairs.
I'm the lemon.

I turned back round,
and saw my 3 friends,
and their girlfriends,
with their mouths open wide,
as if they were about to engage in speech,
but nothing was coming out.

I never knew silence could make a sound so beautiful


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