"Cottage Industry"

Who would have thought
That something as functional
As an ordinary public toilet
Could be such a place
Of architectural beauty?
With your Victorian
Fixtures and fittings
So much more
Than a place for shitting!
Neither are they all a place to piss
If you get lucky a wank, but not kiss
Walk back outside pretend you're straight
Seeing your hard cock don't fool me, mate.
Can you imagine if walls could talk
The tales your average public convenience could tell?
The pain and the pleasure
What men do for leisure
It hasn't changed for generations
Men partaking up and down the nation.
Half expecting graffiti Joe Orton was here
If it was that would be so queer.
One thing that's changed are drawings on the wall
Now gay art hardly seen at all
Just a phone number for you to call.
Well I'm not here for a date
I just want to masturbate
Another hand on my cock
In modern parlance
That would really rock.
Not always great for my self esteem
Though blow jobs will make me beam
I'm only blessed with an average size
My five incher not always a prize.
It's not just that I'm not well hung
I'm neither fit or even young.
More often than not there's no second glance
Which is why I grab any chance.
The bottom line is I'm a sad, lonely man
Who grabs morsels of sex wherever I can.
What you've just read might not be
What you want to hear
But that's the lonely life
Of an ugly old queer.
Nine times out of ten
It's more functional than great
But I'm content if not happy with my fate
In a cubicle on my knees
A stranger walks in from outside
Not having to freeze
Lock on the door means we don't have to budge
Who are you to be my jury and judge?

Dulwich Poet 30th May 2013

( A friend I know told me she used to write poetry, but can't get the inspiration to start again. While chatting about it she mentioned that she once wrote one while in the toilet at the ASDA in Charlton. So I've written this one about what I like to do in toilets...)