c-j-baxter
In The Loving Memory Of A Man I Never Knew / / I found the words of a mad man, they inspired me to write. Sometimes I borrow his words and sometimes he borrows mine, sometimes- and only sometimes- they reflect each other as they intertwine. / / Maybe you'll agree he is worth hearing, I do not intend to rob the work of a dead man, rather I would like to showcase, interpret and cascade him as far as he has cascaded me into the realms of my own self. / / (© copyrights are reserved by me) excluding the artwork which is by Rory Price
Hurt people hurt people.
So says the doctor.
Hurt people, Hurt people.
So says the patient.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
I have given legs just before he steps, but I have forgotten to give him ground on which to stand. He plummets into the abyss.
I will try again.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
Hunger is a gun to your head.
Can you feel it pressed up against
your temple or is your tummy full?
Do you hear it cocked and ready
Or does your lunch sit happily on
your warm breakfast and cup of tea?
I think it's high time someone like you
bites the bullet.
You in your fine-tailored, Italian suit.
You in your penthouse apartment,
who leave homes empty here and abroad.
Yes, you.
I know you know someone who knows
someone who grew up in a tenement flat.
I know you know someone who knows
someone who works with disabled people.
I know you haven't heard any complaints.
But I know you and we have here this gun.
And I know just what we'll do with it
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 6:10 AM UTC
Kim Kardashian is my neighbour.
I see her every day, smiling seductively;
her curves grinning too.
She recommended some gluten-free meals,
skincare products, mobile apps, and friends.
She introduced me to her family,
and they are a lovely bunch.
I don’t know my other neighbours.
I know they are noisy, smelly,
up all hours of the night like bats.
But they haven’t been as helpful as Kim.
They’ve never entertained me for hours.
I’ve not seen their break downs, break ups,
make ups, and family meltdowns.
I’ve not seen them ****** and ******* ****
in a hotel without a worry that I was watching.
And Kim is never going to move out.
At least not until those curves stop grinning,
and she stops breaking down in front of me.
Not until she lets slip the mask that the machine wears.
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 6:41 AM UTC
Get a job. Get a girl. Get a house. Get a coffin.
Get a jump on the morning and eat an omelette of worms.
Get a newspaper with your morning loaf and
read that thing cover to cover.
Get real, get prepared, get in line.
Get your orders from the horse's mouth
and follow them to you're told otherwise.
Get a grip of yourself, young man!
Don’t get yourself in trouble, infected or in jail.
Don’t get up after midday or go to sleep after midnight.
Don’t get used to coming in first
or you’ll be a wimpy sore lose.
Don’t get cocky kid; don’t get smart.
Don’t get ahead of yourself and think
you're the man to lead all the others.
Don’t get too big for your boots, young man.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 1:06 PM UTC
Flex military muscles from across the water,
And ***** the shining rods of destruction.
We’ll sit amazed with our mouths open.
You’ll have the world on its knees
With the mere threat of eruption.
We’ll sit amazed with our mouths open;
Half scared, half angry, half-halfheartedly opposing.
I feel like you'd like us to beg.
Jul 6, 2017
Jul 6, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
Daring, dragon skinned painter of poets,
does your work weigh heavy on your old heart?
Does Glasgow reflect in you, the ugliness,
beauty, passion, and apathy you see in her?
Has hell swallowed us, deep down the gullet?
Did it spit us back out for being too foul?
Is this city too pitiful? Too proud?
The city of the future need sutures;
the people are tearing each other at the limbs.
Hate’s been brewing like a storm over the hills,
and’s about to come whip us into a frenzy.
Whatever time you have left, is there time left for us?
Can you hold up your unflattering mirror once more?
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 6:03 AM UTC
I'd like a sof- boiled Brexit so I can dip in my soldiers.
My Granny wants a hard-boiled to challenge her dentures.
I've not heard many calls for scrambled,
though that may be how they end up.
Or we could fry them until they leap for the fire.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 5:25 AM UTC
The crowd moves without murmurs.
You don’t know when it started.
But you remember the day
you packed your bags and joined them.
The crowd moves without murmurs.
No one knows where to anymore,
they remember or misremember
old tales of the light that had opened up in the sky.
The crowd moves without murmurs
like cattle being led to their slaughter;
a beautiful and glorious death awaits.
Old tales of the light set to swallow us one by one.
Someone starts speaking:
‘ I’m sick of waiting in line for this.’
‘ It’s a sham’
‘ It’s a heaven you blasphemous fools’
‘ It’s a sham. Wake up. You’re living in darkness.’
The crowd moves on, as conversations break off.
Some break off into different directions.
Most continue to wait in line, moving slowly.
You don’t know which way to go.
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 3:34 PM UTC