I Don’t Love You No More (Lie)

There’s a poppy laced rope trick that ties
us together; time to talk about heartbeats
missing beats, and a thumping back beat
of dancefloor cerebral twists
and turns and 5ml super novas
bubbling up to dissolve all sounds

until a sludge crimson trickle begins to flow
into the clear silence, a vacuum like silence,
whilst I held you in my arms
in an endless, joyless, crusade
to replicate our first kiss
(again and again and again)
turning my world upside

For down is a word with many meanings,
a small innocent word left behind
in a makeshift filter
with a brown scum residue of false dreaming.

My mind’s eye is full of poetic clichés
of high flying burning kites
magnetising kamikaze moths
(yes, I’ll miss you)
but we’ve said our lying good-byes.


©2007 P.A.Levy
First published by Cause and Effect 2008


Two Timing Mouse

You came home loose sketched
calling me ‘honey’
with those large graphite grey eyes
smudged mascara black 
and a cross hatch frown
formed from a shaded glance down,

and yet it was the animated sadness
in the corners of your mouth
that outlined some deceit
in such an intricately hand tinted sorrow.

I’m sorry I found it so funny,
but you did sound like Minnie Mouse,
I’m sure at one point
you even said Mickey had found out
as you tried to cling to me;
end of the world close.

Although I admired that you could sob
so enthusiastically
without depth,
bubbles of pain effervescing
above your doleful head,
but you always were
a dimension short of being loving.
Time to confess
that you’re not so skilled in multitasking.
You couldn’t cry and talk simultaneously
you tried,
but it just blabbered out
in fizzy snot and squeaky noises
as you acted out a cat and mouse charade
in a polka dot dress.


©2006 P.A.Levy
First published by Aireings 2009


Caught By The Short and Curlys

Contemptuous look from my reflection
provides all the recommended
daily dosage of self derision,
or in other words
just desserts, let it all come crashing down;
I’ve fucked-up,

(A feral
earring. Confirmation artefact; hallmarked
proof of my deceit.)
Circumstantial archaeology and gossip.

She was such a small mistake,
a sluttish little size eight.
Let’s talk about this. Please.

There’s vengeance in those dagger sharp eyes
honed and Maybelline underlined. Lashes flick-whip.
Tirades of obscenities from lush kissable lips,
then I face the cold shoulder as if straight from the fridge
(isn’t that an omen about serving revenge).

In the pit of your silence;
I stumble,
fall head long onto broken promises.
Onto words that cut, that slice,
that hang in the air like a damning curse.
I’m dangling
by my own sweet nothings.


©2007 P.A.Levy
First Published by Kerouac’s Dog 2010
Also Published by Sanity Not Guaranteed 2013



when the warning came my first thought was
what kind
i mean i wouldn’t wear the same colour outfit
during a yellow warning as i would during a red
any clash might be catastrophic
and i’d want to look my best

on the street the warning was in front of me
screaming that life contains scenes of
sex and violence
there’s oodles of anglo-saxon language
(which some might find obscene)

with that sort of warning i’m pretty certain
i’d best wear me fourteen hole doc martens
filigree lace negligee and leather biker’s jacket
matching bra and knickers
(in case i’m in an accident)
keep my hair in a simple pony tail

check list:
√  i’ve mascara and lippy
√  handy travel tissues and wipes
√  i’ve a bag of weed plus skins
√  a handful of pills
√  a bottle of voddy
√  a packet of condoms
√  and a barbie pink baseball bat
it’s important that a girl be ready
for anything that could happen


©2010 iDrew
First published by Bad Robot 2011



you were deffo
one of them boys
this was most certainly
one of them nights
loved up
and into each other like crazy
buttons and zips coming undone before
the key was even in the door

snogging each other to a breathless
frenzy it suddenly struck me
something was wrong

nice cushions (home boy) that rug
co-ordinates with the curtains
slow down tiger
i need to use the bathroom
miss marple i ain’t
yet i felt your stiffy (mmm)
there’s no way you’re gay
but this flat is deffo 
femme fresh

make-up and sensitive
skin moisturiser
bras and knickers
in the laundry basket
even jessica fletcher
would get to the bottom
of this mystery in less than a hour

a quickie and scarper
or do i take the moral high ground
make a stand for truth
and the sisterhood
fuck it!
this is no time to act noble and good
i’m dead horny


©2009 iDrew
First published by Bad Robot 2012