/lit/ - Literature

easy one to start with

The sun shone through my bedroom window;
the light fell across my limbs.
I woke from a dream of a Talking Dingo
whose name, it claimed, was Tim.

Tims maw was dripping; slavering rude,
as I cracked the tin of Gods Dog Food
with a jagged piece of limestone rock
and tore the fucker fully off,

the smell of jelly rabbit sweet
combined with jellied horses feet
crept up our nostrils in and came to meet
our senses, 'answered: "mmm, a treat."

And Lo' behold the rising Sol;
with handfuls of Dog Food still to go,
it hung from our lips as we sat there,
transfixed; bewitched, by Sols foul glare,

"I fear the Book will have to wait,"
said Tim as his image burned away,

"compatriot, friend, o' brother mine,"
I called out clawing 'gainst the time,


"Doth thou know what love is?" asked my Wife,
"Sure I do," said I, holding a knife,
I pressed it down and split a sausage,
"love's what a Man has for his Coffee,"

she laughed at the lie and turned away,
I bit my thumb and marked the day;
the hours to go as tears did well
for the time wasted in Bloody Hell,
'till I could return to the fair outback
with my mate Tim, and when I'd go back.