Luke Timms

Rookie (20th november 1989 / Ipswich, England)

Bar Scrap - Poem by Luke Timms

Sitting, reminiscing with a farfetched friend
Drinking whiskey as water, nearing the nights enjoyable end
The fateful pound coin does drop, all eyes hit the floor
The roll ends with a stamp, t’was his for sure
“Cheers mate, may I have it back? ” all I hear is a grunt
Followed by “try it mate, I’ll kick and turn, your d*ck into a c*nt”
With this I did ponder was I the bigger man?
Bigger meaning bigger; the one who’ll stand his ground
I stood right up, my spine almost showing pride
I shouted “you look as fragile as my fresh young blonde bride! ”
She stormed up to me, but little fear I did hide
“I’ve killed bigger and uglier than you” I knew he had lied
The rage did build up me, my eyes may have been alight
I knew he was about to have his very last fight
A quick fist to the head, followed by a knee to the mouth
Should’ve seen it coming… now I’m knocked the f*ck out

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 4, 2011

Poem Edited: Sunday, December 4, 2011

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