"Two of a kind" and "Me and my mouth"

By Miles J. Bell

Two of a kind

I'd had a little success
getting some poems published
in online journals
so with a swell of ego
entered my name
into the biggest internet
search engine.

There I was, top result.
Top result; although
there was another
with my name
who won first prize
in a bareback
bronco riding contest
in 99.

I can see him now
calling from his bedroom
in Amarillo
"some lousy poet
probably some kinda queer
has taken mah top spot
with that fancy writing and all
an' people might think it's me".

and I can hear the reply

"Don't worry baby
they'll know it ain't you."


Me and my mouth

Some guy I hadn't seen
for years
spotted me in the street.

"How come you're
so fat these days?"
he shouted.

I smiled.

"Because every time
I fuck your mother
she gives me a biscuit."

Miles J Bell is 34. When it was found he didn't exist, it was erroneously decided to invent him. His father was a boxer, and his mother was a cocker spaniel. He lives in a leaking bivouac underneath a motorway flyover. He would like to thank Grolsch lager for making him the man he is today. His diet consists chiefly of snakes and wool.