Same Day, Same Shit

Anxiety
You annoying bastard
You fucked up
half my day again
I know I am swearing
But I’m past fucking caring
How was my day darling?
(I talk to myself
‘cos I’m the only one
who bloody well listens)
And how can I say it
but it was shit again
shit again
Always shit again

Wearing anxiety
like it was some fucking
loser’s pageant crown
But I’m no fancy winner
I’m going down, down, down
I thought I’d ring my nurse
But same old, same old
‘You’re doing fine’
as if a 15lb baby is
working its way
out of my vagina
But I’d rather be knocked up
than screwed up

Pop another pill
Numb another feeling
You’d all get on my last nerve
If I weren’t tranqued out
of my mind
It’s getting where I sort
of like the feeling
Head dead
Horizontal on my bed
Mindfulness
says my therapist
who thinks he’s Sigmund Freud
And I am mindful that
of all my lovers
Sanity is the most
Fucking jealous

©2020 Sarah Drury

The M Word

CAUTION: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE AND SEXUAL CONTENT

Man sits with his
hand down his pants
Masturbating sir?
Fiddling with your bits?
And that is acceptable

Woman sits with her
hand down her pants
Masturbating madam?
Playing with your clit?
And that is NOT acceptable

He’s
Spanking the Monkey
Jerking the Gherkin
Beating his meat
Waxing the carrot
Tugging the slug
Burping the worm
Playing pocket pinball
Pulling the Pope
He’s wanking
He’s wanking
He’s wanking

And guess what?

WOMEN MASTURBATE

We’re
Auditioning the finger puppets
Fanning the fur
Buttering our muffin
Diddling Miss Daisy
Playing the piano
Petting the bunny
Flicking the bean
Smacking the pony
She’s wanking
She’s wanking
She’s wanking
(but ‘nicely’)

And why do all the
female wanking
euphemisms
Sound so goddam acceptable
So goddam wholesome
So goddam
NICE!

Do we have to be
beautified and stereotyped
even in masturbation?

Is it because it sounds
gentler falling upon
women’s ears?

Or less offensive
Screaming in the ears
of the men?

©2020 Sarah Drury

Less of a Woman

I can’t cook
And if I could
I wouldn’t

Does that make me
less of a woman?

I can’t knit
fancy outfits for
newborn babies
I can’t shit
rainbows like
magical unicorns

I can’t follow the
make up tutorials
on YouTube
I don’t shave
my precious pussy

Does that make me
less of a woman?

I can’t teeter around
in heels
I don’t squeeze myself
into sexist ideals

I can’t think
cos I’m psychotic
I can’t scream
cos my mouth is
silenced with the
adjectives of misogyny

Does that make me
less of a woman?

I can’t bear child
cos I’m ‘too old’
I can’t menstruate
cos I’m ‘too old’

I can’t wear bikinis
cos I’m ‘too old’
I can’t masturbate
cos I’m ‘too old’

Does that make me
less of a woman?

I can do what I want
when I fucking want
I can fuck who I want
when I fucking want
I can be who I want
when I fucking want

Does that make me
less of a woman?

©2020 Sarah Drury

Flogging

This was inspired by my old neighbour who used to sell her wares on street corners.

WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE

Red hair blazing
Like a fuck me beacon
A barber’s pole but throbbing in male pants
Face a dot to dot of drug induced acne
Parading your heroin chic
Decency don’t mean shit

You never keep your legs shut
Self employment makes it rather draughty
And as a small business you should
Protect your assets
But you can’t get insurance
On gynaecology

Hanging around on seedy corners
Perverts cruising, risking a bruising
Chancing chancers
You don’t know, you don’t know
Flogging your fanny today
Digging your grave when the sun
Mourns your demise
And the dealers
Mourn their suicide pockets

A fuck for the addiction of heroin culture
Shame when your fanny is a currency
You pay in dirty needles
And white powder lines of escapism
For a few moments you’re out of here
Shooting up in Nirvana
Profits in your greedy veins
Coke up your wannabe Beyonce nose

I wish I could help
And the churches say that
No one is beyond redemption
But you’re lost to the devil now
You sold your soul for a moment of heaven
And found your sanctity
In the arms of an addictive addiction
Bride of a heroin fix

©2020 Sarah Drury

Oedipus

CAUTION – EXPLICIT

Oedipus

You’d had a three in the bed you said
You smelled of expensive whiskey
If I’d have taken a match to you
You’d have burned in Hell
I loved you
But I didn’t love your insensitive mouth
When it ran with tales of sex and indiscretion
Of screwing whores and adultery
You must have fucked the telephone directory
Or be bullshitting

I fell into your trap
Sitting for hours online spouting utter crap
About how we’d make such sweet, sweet love
Insanely when we met
Had I slept with any women
But never wanting to know whether
I’d fucked any sexy men
Maybe you were just jealous
Or threatened

We skipped the light fandango
Took foolish risks
Burning sheets alight with red hot sex
I never liked a penis
But it was all part of the thing with men
A soulless blow job
Was part of the meal deal
Cucumber when you’re partial to peaches

You never hid any of your other seedy conquests
You relished in detailing the bitter facts
How Annie in Dublin had the perfect pussy
And you’d taken the perfect picture
To commemorate the perfect fucking fuck
And what was I supposed to do?
Get on my feet and applaud?

I don’t know why I always went for older guys
Maybe I saw in you a patriarch
Maybe the lines on your face promised me
A map of my heart
Some may say it was Oedipal
But I wouldn’t know
I have no memories
Of my father

©2020 Sarah Drury