Other Poems by:

Richard Wink

Another Night

I had a headache
took two pain killers
the bright lights don't help my condition
neither do the laughing bouncers spitting on the floor
outside Norwegian blue.
Moving on through bottles and pint glasses
hours go by
endless wasted nights
slutty girls dance and pick out identikit haircuts
to dance with,
boys with tight t-shirts emblazened with retro
americana slogans
hula girls
welcome to the bronx
boston university
white, brown and ambient yellow.
I watch these peacocks present
drunken compliments
bitter rejections.
thats harsh.
We walk back like we always do
in search of a taxi
i drunkenly push a wheelbarrow
through tombland
Glenn helps me lift 
and we hurl it into the wensum
drunk and disorderly
eighty pound fine,
what a waste of time.

Mother Fly

Cry for me father as i walk in these chains
for i did not deserve this
when my curse was a choice
that changed before my eyes
my body  is no different to the mother fly
i know this will all end
that one day we can walk free from the hands of time
until then i will look through these iron bars
into the cloudy night sky
and wait for the stars 

Last of the Great English Eccentrics

An impotent man giving head to a catholic priest
well at least thats what Harry thought he saw
as he gazed with glazed over eyes through the stained glass window
the stain on his trousers looked ten times worse
under candle light
as he walked up the aisle, inside the church
sweet virginal Mary
not like the hooker Harry met earlier who did'nt give change, for the worlds worst blow job
speaking of jobs, Harry is now unemployed
spending his time wandering the streets
the church is warm
there is a sense of calm
Harry looks up, Jesus stares back from a dusty crucifix
pinned to the wall
Jesus Christ, even Jesus had a job.
Harry now being older, wiser, decrepid and docile
feels the armpit sores
caused by 99p deodorent
and the belt that marks his underbelly
cheaply brought from the market.
The best advice that Harry has had all week
was from that bum on the park bench
he told Harry
if you can't earn no pounds 
then you better start begging for them pennies.

Broken Glass

The black cat's silent paws waltz slowly along the wall 
calling to a tiger that hides under the hedge 
hidden amongst syringes and empty beer bottles 
you might as well pick up a bottle 
save the world 
keep Britain tidy 
Pick the bottle up by the neck 
strangle it in your grasp 
throw it into the road 
throw it as hard as you can 
until you can feel the muscles ripping from your shoulder blades 
tearing tissue from your flesh 
watch the bottle fly through the air 
until it smashes into the road 
glass shatters, explosion of tiny particles 
pieces of glass lie like broken egg shells 
waiting to be grinded 
grinded to dust 
the black cat silently watches in awe


Richard Wink was born in 1984 in the 'Fine' City of Norwich. His poetry is routed in 
real life experiences and the complications of life, reflecting both the sacred and 
the mundane
He has been published in Concrete, Underground Window and Aesthetica magazine
His first chapbook of poetry published is out now titled 'The Beehives' which is 
available via www.cogentpoetry.com
If you wish to contact Richard feel free to give him feedback at his email

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