I am currently reading a story a day (well a story every toilet time) from the book 'The most beautiful woman in town' by Charles Bukowski. I literally cant think of anything else other than how incredible his imagination is, for a good couple of hours after finishing the last paragraph.
I recently did my first reading of poetry, I have been meaning to do it for a long time, actually since my nose job in January of last year, but I have been extremely lazy or just lacking confidence in my work.
Words and sounds was hosted by Ashley Morgan, a true Welshy and went really well with a good number of people turning out. It seems quite obvious that more and more people are appreciating poetry as an art form and not as just lines of shit metaphors and useless adjectives. whoop whoop!!!
The following is one of my more recent poems; for someone on Valentines day perhaps?
I was dancing on smokey puffs of condensation
His lips touched mine
And my toes pinched the air
My hair scattered the cushions
And for the first time in years
My Cunt smiled
Rose Bailey ©
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