she's bought a lovely little number
from an established high street store
no thoughts for Bangladesh sweat shops
were children work hard to be poor
she knows she's going to look gorgeous
it's got a slit right down the back
shows the tattoos on her shoulders
and her **** are going to look stacked
she bought some new hair extensions
that clip in and really look real
with some false nails from the pound shop
no one's going to know the real deal
just value beans in the cupboard
and her kids feral in the street
with her spice addict brother on board
McDonalds on Friday's a treat
with a little blue pill from Bill
a proper night for a tenner
although last week it made her ill
this week it's going to be better
she's got a plan to get sorted
pull the dealer from the estate
once a few lines have been snorted
she'll do him at a discount rate
should make enough for her eldest
to buy that snide iPhone she needs
so that she can send her a text
when she needs to score her some ****
probably on Sunday morning
when she needs to just ******* chill
cause the comedown's really hurting
from Friday night's little blue pill
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 5:48 AM UTC
Five hundred miles to kneel in bitter, November snow,
silence, pierced abruptly, by magpie's chattering screech,
naked oak fingers rattling a chorus of disapproval,
withered bouquets, fast, with weathered sanguine ribbon,
nestled amid the glistening russet tapestry,
tired gold leaf adorns matted marble of black jet,
holding the word, mother, on trembling, blue lips,
Sepia recollections, eviscerated by the butcher of reality,
quarrelling emotions, sporting stark tattoos of injustice,
the stench of mother's milk, turned to rancid butter,
icy pearls, burning down scarlet, wind chapped, cheeks,
prompt visions of her in a delicate, white lace gown,
alone, cold in the ground, the worms feeding on her flesh.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 7:31 PM UTC
The orchid, glazed with morning dew,
has no pretence and seeks no audience,
her desire is to reach only for the sun,
in true beauty, she climbs, uninhibited.
seek, always, to live unencumbered,
give yourself freely, without restraint,
they who wear the veil of persistent memory
are confined, forever entombed,
wrapped in the eternal shroud of solitude
behind granite walls built from hurt,
the boundaries of their incarceration
insurmountable, by even the purest heart.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
This immaculate pristine page,
tainted, with meaningless words,
living testament to my ineloquence,
custodian of this anxious pen.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
Nocturnes narrating awkward remembrance,
steadfast, stoic in the house of God,
fragile, childhood memories still whisper,
boys, displaying cultured monotone respect,
despite blatant hypocrisy and emotional neglect,
disparity of memory, underlying tension of conflict,
rehearsed eulogies, gripping the old oaken lectern,
orations, borne of duty, incongruent and painted,
with the brushes of Munthe and Gibran.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 7:25 PM UTC
The winter bathes in nectar,
now that spring is lost,
play me down, down now,
beneath the biting frost,
stark magpie chants the sonnet,
counting crows the cost,
show me now, how now,
everything is lost,
riven steeples whisper dirges,
inspiration tossed,
show me how, now how,
we built this holocaust.
blind children hide in silence,
destiny's swift riposte,
wear your crown, proud now,
whilst watching from your cross.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 7:23 PM UTC
born into the confines of parochial subjugation
beneath the glare of the redundant red brick edifice
the black and white battle of black and white
watched by apple cheeked clergy and the ubiquitous cross
infants ceremoniously absolved of original sin
lovingly swaddled in ornate christening robes
immersed in the gilded roman marble font
spirits cleansed with the holy water of guilt
copious drinks imbibed in joyous celebration
by inebriated clown nosed maternal uncles
ties ajar around a stained deck of cards
avoiding the sartorially immaculate undertaker's stare
obligatory weekly contrition confirmed
knelt in the dank confines of the confessional
penitent accepting continuous emotional ****
we all become one in this unholy communion
in pristine uniform of blood and snow cassock
from ornate oak lecterns gospels eloquently narrated
by a nervous child judged by assembled bigots in congregation
and appropriate conditions of worth applied
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 5:45 AM UTC
thoughts float by
like dandelion seeds
on the restless winds
azure speckled eyes
like painted butterflies
lost in turbid skies
over fields of tamarind
in violent haze
the copper sun gaze
upon sepia days
sanguine visions underpinned
none shall know
the crimson blood souls
but the black jet crows
eyeing gnarled ancient men
supporting ivory vibrant clouds
still paying for their sins
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
S.S.R.I.s placebos and lies
caught in between generations
I've come to despise
flanked by blatant hypocrisy
pestered by whining naivety
the resultant mental infarct
stented only by seeking
obligatory consolation in art
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 5:53 AM UTC
It's lovely that you're gathered here together
with so many nice things to say
flattered that you all look your best
in your suits and shiny black frocks
I'd have a few things to say, mind you...
If I could get out of this box
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 4:58 AM UTC