Sarah Parry




Tinselled transvestites in Amsterdam,

Smoking, fucking, and eating cured ham,

Penning censored postcards home to Mam.


Exfoliating halos in seconds,

Flights booked, the drug capital beckoned,

Away from the farm, the fields, the brecons.


The dams came loose like our attitudes,

Pretty patience parched from constant prudes,

Gender confusion narcotics soothed.


Red lights beckoned, and didn't read stop,

Melding a blend of coffee and pot,

Dizziness un-disturbing my plot.


My naked suitcase shall remain stripped,

Too many years I have stayed tight-lipped,

I watch the sunset, and my past slip.


The home herds shall huddle without me,

I can watch the rugby on TV!

Amsterdam is where I'm meant to be.


Among the ditched, dated, dancing dolls,

Among the crowds of crazy, coked-up trolls,

Where I'll stand heeled: a woman resolved.




 Soliloquy of a Single Mum...




 Glitter gel spreads like butter,

on my vamp vised bedroom eyes,

Sick of life in the gutter,

Mama lusts for a rich guy,

Your papa is a nutter,

A dosed, dole freak I despise,

I don't care what folk mutter,

They desire a rise from lies.


 Holed on a council estate,

Fantasies fondle much more,

I bustier into blonde bait,

To open a better door.

Me: I create my own fate,

Reeling in on the dance floor,

Sick of scrounging off the state,

Selling my soul like a whore.



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Sentinel Poetry (Online) #40


ISSN 1479-425X     March 2006