Friday, January 12, 2007


Taught that big black bastard,
Taught him good and final,
No more flitting in and out,
No more to be in my face,
No more to be in my hair!

Took up arms against him,
A fine chase I had,
Round this room,
Until I smeared him,
Smeared him against the wall!

And still he gives me gyp,
Can’t leave this mess, it’ll irritate me,
And yet, wiping up those six hairy legs,
And mulched body and wings,
Annoys me too!


ish said...

First I thought bat(... the cat was playing with one on the carpet in the early hours yesterday. But in the hair?! Yuck!) Then cockroach. But blow-fly I suspect it is. If so, the poem presents a second sort of buzz... a satisfying one, in the reading.

Inconsequential said...

I don't know what sort of fly it was... just big and black, probably about the size of my thumb nail...briefly got a bit bigger, but much thinner.
I don't often kill things in real life, but that bugger really pushed me too far.

Pod said...

i thought it was a daddy long legs (you're a daddy with long legs ain't ya?)...i wrote a poem once for an ex that hated flies (but it was alie coz i dont kill) it went...

i love you
(i killed 13 flies for you didn't i?)