The Cold Tap Sings

the p-word

POEM TITLED UNTITLED POEM

Poem Titled Untitled Poem

Poem titled ‘Hey There Lonely Girl’
Poem titled ‘Hi Kids We’re Home Early’
Poem titled ‘My Anaconda Ain’t No Pet’
Poem titled ‘Moist Friends’
Poem titled ‘Happy Birthday Selfie’
Poem titled ‘Ball Is Life’
Poem titled ‘Pink Snow’
Poem titled ‘Upsetting and Insane’
Poem titled ‘What Is Orange’
Poem titled ‘HATERS’
Poem titled ‘Pot Roast’ 
Poem titled ‘Blowing James Franco’
Poem titled ‘Breakfast of Love Champions’
Poem titled ‘My Heart is a Wiffleball/Freedom Pole’
Poem titled ‘Poetry Is Dead’

[all titles mined from Twitter]

POETS ARE LIARS

‘You shouldn’t let poets lie to you.’

FOLLOWERS

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NOTE FROM CULPEPER COMMUNITY GARDEN IN LONDON

tea cake

Note from Culpeper Community Garden in London

Sitting
On my lunch break
In the public garden
Feeling blue
Because work is busy
Because I don’t know
Because it’s autumn
And the leaves are turning
When a stranger
In a Harrington jacket
Asks to swap his banana
For my Tunnock’s tea cake
And it’s bizarre
Because I was reading a poem
About fruit
And I laugh
And say yes
And peel the banana
And realise
I don’t feel blue
Any more

ONLY POETRY ISN’T SHIT

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‘Poetry is the one thing that isn’t contaminated, the one thing that isn’t part of the game. Only poetry—and let me be clear, only some of it—is good for you, only poetry isn’t shit.’

Roberto Bolaño, 2666 (Picador)

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