I said sorry right back to you when you bumped into me on the street,

you didn’t really know what for;

I really wish I could tell you, I’m sorry for so much more.




I’ll forever feel guilty I lied to you.

Why, you ask, did I lie?

Because they told me you’d spend it on drugs and booze and you’re only here because of you.

I’ll forever feel guilty that I told you I didn’t have one.

Because I know that I can stick a piece of plastic into a god damned machine, and see on the screen a thousand of them.

I’ll forever feel guilty that I’m standing here, earning money for nothing, earning money for me, earning money for millionaires, giving money for free.

And you are weeping in the snow and the rain and the cold.

I’ll forever feel guilty I lied to you – I just hope that you prove me wrong.

I imagine that you did get the job, paid 18 grand. And went home your son.

I see you sitting with him by the fireplace, holding his hand, playing games and having fun.

You sing him a lullaby of all things nice and talk about his dreams.

He dreams big and bold, the whole world in his hands.

He doesn’t, not yet, really understand.

That he’s bottom of the chain.

Because his father is poor.

Left out on the street.

Not a home, a job no nothing more

Than the shoes on his feet and the care in his heart.

That this doesn’t allow you the very best start.

But you don’t see your son, for yet another three years.

In the snow and the rain and the cold, you’re weeping, sobbing, screaming those tears.

Asking me for a pound.

And I’ll forever feel guilty that I lied to you.

I do, indeed, have more than one pound.


She and me

I see she makes you happy.

Your eyes light up when you get near to her.

The dimples in your cheeks dent so deeply as if they cannot be moved, as if they’d never fall away.

The little bumps on your skin raise.

Your body buzzes.

I sit and I watch as you run to her.

Your toes dancing on the sand.

Just before you get to her, to my surprise, you stop.

You breathe.

Your body spins around to take a quick glance back.

You smile and you run away – to her.

But I wait for you;

In hope

That one day

when you come back to me

I’ll make you feel as good as she does.

She and me

How to write a really real news article by Rupert Murdoch

Step one: Find your political agenda. A party who pays a sum or lends a hand to you, as an over-seas tax sender. 

Step two: Superlatives. 

Step three: Add probably. A lot.

Step four: be sure to mention race but only if you’re reporting about immigrants and criminals. 

Step five: CAPITALS 

Step six: more superlatives. 

Step seven: be sure to find your facts from reliable sources. Usually a study of two people is enough to find a 50% fact. 

How to write a really real news article by Rupert Murdoch