Trigger scissors

(based on suggestions from @_camer0n, @sushipyjamas, @timsterne)

This is one giant that I can’t style.

Just because he came to my studio

and sat down in the padded seat

with his strength all akimbo doesn’t

mean I can fix that helmet head.

He’s got Samson in his locks

I’ve got Delilah in my veins.

David wasn’t scissor-happy and

never needed to slip Saul a scarf

to cover his flippant skull.

Pretty, pretty curls the giant had.

I’ve overtaken his image across

double hairlines alone and not once

checked my wingnut mirrors.

There is no victory greater than

a bad perm. If we’d frizzed up

that man-eater, even the smallest boy

would have chopped a shot at him.

Guard your coif like you're five foot high.

These shears are on a hair trigger.

Watch out, watch out, tall man.

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Today's poem is based on suggestions from three peeps:

• @_camer0n: “Caravaggio’s David with the Head of Goliath”
• @sushipyjamas: “driving when there’s no one else on the road”
• @timsterne: “Stackhat hair! http://www.mobypicture.com/user/timsterne/view/9441176" (You were one classy kid, Tim)

I must admit to not having much of a deep driving plan behind this poem - it's was basically written straight out in one go and it's just me mucking about with hair-dressing metaphors and bible stories! As you do. Oddly enough, I really quite like it.

Eight poems to go...