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Beauty and the black.
Cut in two by a psychotic hack.
A pretty face, remembered not for acting,
but the act that gave her instant infamy.
******.
© JLB
06/10/2014
12:36 BST
I like a garden where flowers grow,
yet occasionally a **** does show.
Do I pluck that **** for creeping into my flower garden?
or assign it to my mind, where it can grow un maligned.

Declined by the flower garden, my mind gave the **** a pardon.
There it did stay, entwined with my thoughts that gave it beauty.
A **** is not to be plucked and thrown away,
a **** is to be nurtured like all of humankind.

My mind grows fruitful like a garden, all are welcome,
weeds especially, for they are most likely to surprise.
Weeds, like all that live chime and shine when given a chance.
A chance to grow enshrined in my mind garden.
© JLB
06/10/2014
00:34 BST
Today, I am very not well.
I feel like there's a bell tolling in my head.
I don't want to get out of bed
My ears don't work
My mouth is dry
My back is old and bented
My stomach is churning
My throat is gurgling
My eyes are crusted with crap
A whisper's too loud
The toilet is full of carrots
(When did I eat carrots?)
My nose is running, I better go after it
I'm sniffing, I'm sicking, I'm chilled then hot
I'm telling you lot, I'm very not well
I'm glad I have no sense of smell
What's in the bucket, looks like it might have rights
I'm telling you lot I'm very not well.
© JLB
04/10/2014
12:33 BST
Let me clarify, I'm not here to prettify life.
Amplify your ego or nullify your beliefs.
I'm here for me.
Dignify for me your response without a lie.
Can you? No?
Then in my best of Anglo Saxon do me the favour of
"******* the *******".
Inspired by The Ballad of John And Yoko.
© JLB
02/10/2014
17:38 BST
Today was no ballet,
sure, people say "no picnic"
but, I prefer "no ballet".
After all why compare a day to a picnic?
Picnics are, well, middling.
Some outstanding (with champagne)
Some poor, with floppy cheese sandwiches.
Some, just sitting in a field with a damp ****.
So, today was no ballet.
I didn't shout "hooray"
I didn't wear fancy lingerie
I didn't eat at an avant-garde cafe
I didn't write a masterpiece,
an overture or paint a masterful stroke.
So, all in all, today was passé,
definitely no ballet.
© JLB
03/10/2014
00:01 BST
Do you remember when you held my hand?
When we walked across the sand?
Do you remember how we talked for hours on the phone?
How we never had a moan, or a care?
The world could take us anywhere?
Remember how we thought our world would last,
and that we, in our naïveté just danced?

*Now fifteen years are gone by,
we laugh as much as we cry.
I, no longer walk upon the sand.
You, still hold my hand.
Now, we moan, we pay bills.
I take a lot of pills.
To get upstairs I use a lift.
But, you my husband, are my gift.
This MS my curse, my fate.
But, I wouldn't have my life off of another plate.
© JLB
29/09/2014
23:38 BST
Come take a walk with me.
What do you see?
It's not a trick question, I'll answer first.
I see a world that is cursed.
Cursed, by greed, by wannabe fame,
and the human race playing a game.

What do you see?
Do you see the sea choking?
The forests de-cloaking?
Their limbs torn and cut for adornment?
Do you see children hungry?
Being used for money?
Do you see the rain as just water or tears?

What do you see?
I see people not caring, not sharing.
I see pain and sorrow for the coming tomorrow.
I see destruction and ruin of a planet that ironically rhymes with birth.
I see darkness where light should shine,
in your soul and mine.

Let's take a walk, a wander, a gander,
let's take time to see the truth, to soothe, to return kindness,
to ourselves, friend and foe.
With nothing to gain but a smile and hello, from a neighbour,
from a world in pain.
© JLB
29/09/2014
12:37 BST
THE
HAT
ATE
THE
TEA
THAT
HATE
HEATE(D)*

The
Hat
Hated
Eating
That
Tea
But
The
Mad
Hatter
Insisted
I wanted to take a 4 letter word and see if I could make a coherent poem!
© JLB
27/09/2014
01:30 BST
"Are you lost?" Said no one to the ******* the bus.
"Are you cold?" Said no one to the figure huddled in the doorway.
"Are you hungry?" Said no one to the hollow eyed man.
"Are you scared?" Said no one to the child with the bruised face.
"Are you safe?" Said no one to the family in a squalid room.

"Please send a donation to the human race. We've lost our humanity"
© JLB
27/09/2014
13:39 BST
When the love is gone,
you feel all alone.
The spread of cold through your veins,
where once before a fire flamed and raged.
Numbs your soul and douses the fire.
You sit reflecting on what once was,
only to realise that love goes on.
On to higher ground.
On to higher realms.
On to greater things.
© JLB
26/09/2014
09:58 BST
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