Writing is an Art
so many people say
Selection of the words
arranged in such a way.

These words are there for all
not just for the select few
and we all have a choice
to arrange them as we do.

It's not a thing to rush
but don't take to much time,
to start just write them down
before they leave your mind.

Then we can take some time
now they are down on paper
To edit as we wish
which can also be a caper.

So many words we chose
as we move our words our way
but we find to smooth it out
that we're throwing most away.

We want our characters
to have unique temperaments.
so that when the story is read out
the audience cements.

If we can't get that bond
with our writing it may taper
but we can play around at will
as long as it's put down on paper.

You twist below earths casing with unease.
Ravens caw awakens you once more with
such rasp of unholy calling.
Skeletonised featureless humanity with broken
casket worn by years of gluttonous worms and
maggots frenzy.
Weighted down with soiled crust, you excavate
within your grave, driven by the glorious call of that
murderous brood, pecking demandingly above with
such Tomb Stone drumming.
Appealing for their master to return.
Upon the midnight hour such clawing bone appears
through earthen clays that fall beside thee.
Back once more to their righteous hiding place.
The clock slowly ticking for such a time when
freedom will be your reckoning.
Eventually to bare such sight as no man would
invite to call.
Resting wearily after such rite you ****** your
caller from its lair and feast on sullen flesh and
blood as around you  feathers floating around
you in surprised cascading chase.
Not the most captivating meal but such will sustain
you until sinew repairs itself and ****** meat once
more returns to bone.  
Plenty is the time when metamorphoses completes
for  more appetising morsel.
Awakening complete it is time to delve into this new time.                                                            ­  
A future where you are once more free to feed on
living flesh.                                                           ­                                 
Once more to be Master is your calling.
Off you go into the night, off you go to have your
way and feast till Devilled hearts content.
Into nights shadows do you stride.

Something that you should know as you walk along that track.
Your destinations clear and you are not coming back.

Something to contemplate that might cause a dis-rail. Or perhaps just slow you down as you are destined to fail.

You never read the small print, you never studied well. That's why your on this journey to Hell!

You signed your name in blood to get the things you could.
You never once took thought of if you really should.

You had your fifteen famous, you thought you were on your way.
But you didn't really think how soon it was till you would pay.

And now your on the path to Hell and looking really pale. Because the Devil is 'as they say' in the detail.

Have you ever had the urge to
**** someone. Perhaps that awkward ex-wife or the bullying supervisor
or maybe you just want to speed up a long awaited inheritance. If you
have any of the before mentioned reasons or one of many more, then this
book is for you. Some of the things you will read may sound a bit on the
obvious side but this publication is designed at the total beginner so
please work with us on this.

Chapter one.... Who to **** and how to Prepare.

Chapter two.... Choosing a method that is right for you.

Chapter three... Tools needed for the job and how to acquire them.

Chapter four.... How to build a great and believable aliby.

Chapter five.... Building a portfolio: for those who would like to make the step up to mass ******.

Through
these and many other brilliantly described chapters you will get in
depth and easy to understand instructions. All from a varied range of
killers from all over the globe. Here is a little taster as to what you
can expect.

After you have chosen your first victim the first
thing you will need to do is develop a pattern. You will need to watch
them for this but please do note that you will need to consider some
things.

1. You do not want to advertise the fact that you
are stalking your potential candidate, so keeping at a safe distance is
to be advised. Do not be obvious in your choice of dress and always mark
any area with CCTV, not forgetting that a lot of stores these days have
these.

2. The location is important, you need to be somewhere
where you will not be interrupted, you don't want Joe public stepping in
and ruining your first project.

3. When you have completed
your first ****** these tips will instruct you on the practical side of:
Dismemberring, Disposal and Concealing the body.

4. Making the perfect escape from the scene.

Don't delay get your copy now, only $5.99
Order within 10 days and get Absolutely Free. The Dummy's Guide to Tax Dodging.
Order Online at www.sillybugger.com

We gather in Old London town,
the time is getting late.
The fog is slowly coming down,
the year is eighteen eighty eight.

The Leather Apron stalks this eve
ladies of the night beware.
Such things he does you wont believe
and for your welfare he’ll not care.

Hello Mister have a heart,
a girl has got to earn a crust.
A shilling for this fine old ****
for you look like a gent to trust.

In her hand the coin doth shine.
Does she lead this toff astray?
Here’s a quiet place that’s fine,
as she walks up the alley-way.

Face to face and eye to eye.
The victim happy to be plied
with vigour she lifts up her skirt
but now her hands are occupied.

Seizing strongly at her throat
he strangles her till unaware.
Unconscious although not yet broke
he lowers her by head and hair.

Now insentient on the ground
the Ripper sets about his work.
In the dark without a sound
there is no detail he will shirk.

He keeps the body to his left,
her throat is sliced from side to side.
The woman’s family now bereft,
whilst she lies here without her pride.

Left to the nights illumination
Jack executes his deadly art.
Performing such skilled mutilation.
and leaving plus one body part.

Daylight opens up commotion,
"Whitechapel Murderer", strikes once more.
The peelers haven’t got a notion
who it is that killed this *****.

Scotland Yard are in despair
as they try to Investigate
their credibility beyond repair
for they cant find this reprobate.

Eventually the death toll, five,
the murders now come to an end.
Folk are free to live their lives
but could you trust even a friend.

Over an hundred years or more
professional research is far to late.
Jack, can we ever know the score?
"No... All you can do is speculate."

Do you ever feel anxiety?
Do you ever feel ashamed?
Do you ever feel the thoughts you have are sometimes quite deranged?

Are you all okay with everything that flows around your mind?
The words that come alive through you do they seem quite unkind?

Or do you err with caution and try not to upset
The ones who read the words you write and so your work you'll vet!

Sometimes they might need steering towards the point you make.
Sometimes you want to frighten them, or make their poor hearts break!

Your genre points the way for you and you try to make them see.
The message that you write about within your poetry.

Some point out the choices that we aim for in this life,
Whilst others try to show the world in all its weary strife.

The rights and wrongs of lovers, governments and greed.
Whilst others write about the things we all need to succeed.

But whether you script horrors tales or tell of someones plight.
The most important thing you do my dear friend is write!

The woes of life
we pass them on,
'cause if we can't see them
then the problem is gone.

We shudder when
we hear transgression
but we all watch on
and then take our confession.

Now that we're forgiven
we can carry on
cause if we can't see it
then the problem is gone.

The world we know
could be much better run,
removing the barrier,
deserting the gun.

Renounce all the greed
and announce it out loud.
That up until now
we cannot be proud.

Or we can stand still,
and not move on.
Cause if we pretend
then the problem is gone.

Could we stand together
and perhaps all refuse
to join in with hate
and reject racist views.

This is maybe the only
way that we can move on.
Cause if we all join together
then the problem is gone.

How could we explain our plight
to someone who's a stranger
when they can see so clearly
how we put ourselves in danger.

Of course we feel anxiety
and struggle with the doubt,
for we could die on this journey
but at least we're getting out.

And out, is our priority,
out, is what we strive.
Getting out is probably
what keeps us all alive.

Because if this was not an option
and we could not at least try
we might as well just dig a grave
and lie down and wait to die.

So we pay malignant couriers
to float us out to sea,
we take this dangerous consequence
and what will be, will be.

Our journey is horrific
and many of us die,
but the alternative to staying here
is the reason that we try.

1
We're not in darkest Africa
and jungles don't adorn,
this little bit of overgrown
that wraps around our lawn,

2
Plants of pretty colors
sit comfortable in there bed,
and about two dozen footsteps
find us at the potting shed.

3
Our potting shed has seen better days,
some parts have been rebuilt
and it's suffering from subsidence
for it's slightly on a tilt.

4
The walls desperately need painting
because the wood has got some rot
but a boring place to come and sit
it definitely is not.

5
Odds and ends adorn the shelves
and the places spiders tread
where the dust has piled on the weight
and the woodworm may have spread.

6
Smells that we first come across
carry the scent of damp,
foul stinks from half empty sacks,
paint tins that have gone rank.

7
An old oil lamp expel the rust
like dandruff from my head
reigning down golden crumbs
that looks like toasted bread.

8
We think that we have found some proof
of what might linger around
footprints so large and evident
that a Tigers walked upon this ground.

9
So while we have been sleeping
and resting through the night
there's been a Tiger in our shed
but he keeps out of sight.

10
We've sorted through many boxes
we've moved some things aside,
looked into shadows with a torch
but we can't find where he hides.

11
Perhaps he's gone out hunting
for an evening meal,
eyeing up the neighbors dog
with energetic zeal.

12
Perhaps he's out sunbathing,
sitting somewhere in a tree
camouflaged with all those stripes,
that's the reason we can't see.

13
I don't know if he's Sumatran,
Siberian or Bengal
and he doesn't ever show himself
or come to me when I call.

14
I believe he stays outside all day
and only hides in here at night
but I won't come down here when its dark
only in the light.

15
He is a wild animal so
one must take the some care
for he could be stalking us as prey
he could spring from anywhere.

16
But we leave the door unlocked for him
and we've made a comfy bed,
and a sign that just reads "WELCOME"
to the Tiger in our shed

Do we try to understand?
The differences we see
of those that share this fine old land.
This land we think is free.

You'd think that this
would be the norm
not to dismiss
and not to scorn.

Alas whatever it may be
that raises the antagonist.
Colour or Disability,
Why should this make us raise a fist?

Common sense we like to think
makes the human race superior
but hatred is the obvious link
that can make us inferior.

Perhaps to take in what I say
might enhance this life we live
and not to try to take away
let's try to help and try to give.

Lets treat those not the same as us
with an heartfelt interest
and not be quick to cause a fuss.
In this world let's invest.

Make this a better place to be
together we can stand.
Standing up for Liberty
together hand in hand.

I was a blind man!
But now i can see.
No stick or hound
not blind literally.

I just never stood back.
Never really took note.
Just watched as humanity
cuts its own throat.

Was I not looking?
Were my eyes closed?
Is my own contentment
so superimposed?

This life I enjoy
for all that its worth
so no notice was taken
to what happens on earth.

Gorilla hand ashtrays
adorning my home,
might it be an idea
just to leave them alone.

If we just didn't buy them
and I’m really not joking.
We’d keep Gorilla’s alive.
Perhaps just give up smoking.

People paying good money
and thinking what fun.
Watching our wildlife
through the sight of a gun.

But if things turned around,
it was you in that sight.
Could you ever imagine
sleeping at night?

Drilling for oil.
War's off afar.
Is it all worth it
for fuel for a car.

Children are dying
its got to be said.
While some fat oil baron
sleeps contented in bed.

Perhaps he might dream
of the poor of this earth?
Use his millions to help
and thus prove his worth.

How many more oil spills
can this world take?
How many more species
can we continue to break?

Now in this age.
Death for lack of clean water!
While Governments rule
with a firm grip of slaughter.

You reap what you sow
is something they say.
Then should we not consider
a different way.

Enough is enough.
Something must give
or this Planet called home
will be no place to live.

The man in the moon
has a big conundrum
cause he can't always talk
to his good friend the sun
for he is tucked away,
kept out of sight,
for when the suns out
the moon sees the night.

There once was a time
he was part of the earth,
till a comet collided
for all it was worth.
The earth was surprised
with the immediate shock
and the loss of a massive,
great big piece of rock.

That great piece of rock,
far off it did zoom
from big brother earth,
now the man in the moon.
Every time
the sun comes to play,
the moons bigger brother,
'the earth's,' in the way.

His brother of course,
will pass messages on
but it isn't the same
as a chat with the sun.
But once in a while
the moon he can mix
with his good friend the sun
in a total eclipse.

When part of the earth
he saw the sun once a day
till that comet then crashed
and sent him far away.
But somehow they managed
their friendship to fix
and all with the help
of the total eclipse.

They get to catch up,
but not for too long
for they soon take there places,
go home where they belong.
The total eclipse
is a lifeline that ends
but for a short time it helps
puts together two friends

Don't walk on my side of the street,
we do not want to see your feet
pounding down on this sidewalk.
We feel no need to  mix or talk.

Here are the rules that we send,
if you're not like us you're no friend.
So take this threat and do not stray
or with your life you'll surely pay.

We want our race line to stay pure,
we're happier when you are fewer.
So die you ******* do us a favour
for we don't like your cultures flavour.

These thoughts have always been in mind,
our message passed from kind to kind.
Children taught how they should hate
and never enter in debate.

We're happy just the way we are,
with bullets from a drive bye car.
Machine guns we can lock and load
Dead bodies lying in the road.

Why would we ever want alteration
and mix with lesser denomination.
We keep the streets clean as we sieve
sooner than integrate we would grieve.

It makes good sense that's what we learn
and then pass on when it's our turn.
Our children we do educate
and their forbears they emulate.

And on and on and on and on
and through this course so many gone.
They die because they cross a road,
or move out from their postal code.

We **** because he looks at her,
they die 'cause they decide to care.
Rather to **** them than to alter
we choose instead to maim and slaughter.

This is it, it's what you do
to those who do not look like you.
We must step forward and be brave,
and if they mix they choose the grave.

We are there to teach and show
for without this no-one would know.
Cultures they would amalgamate
then we would have no cause to hate.

If you could only be
the places I have been.
If only you could see
the horrors I have seen.

If you had felt their wrath,
that many of us feel
you would never laugh.
You'd then know it was real.

If you had been regressed.
Repressed by all their charms.
Woe of this tempest.
Tormented with alarms.

If you could realise,
if we were safe at home
we never would up-rise,
no reason then to roam.

If things were not as now
my homeland is were I would.
The fields we would plough,
our life could be so good.

Until this comes to pass,
alas, this cannot be,
we exit here en-masse
in order to be free.

These words you would express
if you were in my place.
If all you had was less
would you not join this race?

So you might comprehend,
note, I have nothing to lose.
So please don’t condescend
just walk a mile in my shoes.

The oceanic wind did not rescind but instead it found its form.
Gathering in strength and gaining much in length at the centre of the storm.
Building attitude it would not exclude from the frigate sailing true.
But with its destination now a defication the seas discarded with the crew.

Land-**, it came, did this hurricane bringing with it such a wave.
Like none had ever seen was this water screen that was bound to misbehave.
Throwing all aside like an unruly bride who was aiming to get her way.
And what lay ahead was a heap of dead as the big one came to play.

On its way inward it had done no good to the vessells on the sea.
Throwing craft around and causing men to drown it wasn't going to let them be.
Breaching many shores like unruly ****** the waves would spread there grisly pox.
From the nearest beach to the out of reach destination of inland docks.

Catastrophe - spelt with a capital C was the headlines in the news.
Every seaside place had a weary face that was filmed by camera crews.
People died that day many swept away as the nearest towns did flood.
Even tracks were failing with the trains derailing while water washed away the blood.  

Many homes were wrecked as they did disconect and the oceans did divorce.
With those like you and me as they watched TV as the waters swam there course.
Many got up high and watched their fellows die on this day that would not be.
Forgotten very soon as before high noon we were dismantled by the sea.

It's all over now and we will somehow continue with our lives.
We'll bury our dead and we'll count the heads of our lost husbands and wives.
They'll be laid to rest and we'll then invest in the massive clear away.
But when that wind gets up it'll hit us in the gut but all we can do is pray.

The world cannot be tamed and does not feel ashamed when it strikes from out of the blue.
However we prepare nature doesn't care and will do what it must do.
We think we're in control but we're just on parole from what nature has to throw.
And we'll hope that day never comes our way but we can never really know.

“What a wonderful world”, so the song says
yet its ruled so unjustly by mankind’s selfish ways.
Men in boats across our wide oceans sail
for the profit of killing just another Whale
and corporations with such a money lust
turning mighty rain forests into deserts and dust.
Tigers, Rhino and Elephants roam a land filled with sun
but there numbers diminished by a man with a gun.
Gorilla’s on mountains that border Zaire
populations so low that they soon won’t be there.
People on horseback follow dogs on a trail,
the prize of this ride is a dead foxes tail.
With pollution we destroy the layer of ozone
forgetting that this world is our only home.

“What a wonderful world”, so the song goes
but for the poor and deprived full of misery and woes.
Company’s lie in wait for an oil strike to reveal
whilst many young lie in graves for the lack of a meal.
Poverty, greed, ****** and hate
another dictator lying in state.
Honoured for his military might
of keeping a nation locked up in fright.
And for the young soldier who killed twenty-four
he’s made a national hero with medals galore.
The righteous who try to speak out of this wrong
are killed or rotting in prison cells for so long
and the holy who care for the lepers and plagued
they receive little thanks for the lives they have saved.

“What a wonderful world” so the song said.
Yet into our own destruction we seem to be led.
The priority of “our leaders” is to **** and destroy
treating our world as their unbreakable toy.
Billions of pounds spent on weapons to ****
whilst so many people lie dying or ill.
Governments globally tell us all lies
as an innocent child in a civil war dies.
This climate change that we call Global warming
Is the earth giving mankind its final warning.
For this world knows that it would be a far better place
with the total extinction of the human race.
Without mankind all other life would thrive.
Without mankind this world will survive.

I sit under this apple tree
on gnarly knoll beside the glade.
Newton’s law far from my mind,
rather she, whom from my rib was made.

That first ever female voice
takes its toll on silent patch.
She rattles on in Paradise
and word for word I cannot match.

Her name aligned beside her man,
she who formed not long ago.
Since she arrived, troubles do start.
Since she arrived, I’m full of Woe.

God told me she is called “Wo-man”,
a joke I do believe he made
at my expense I am aware.
This gift, perhaps I should evade.

The rib I gave with good intent
perhaps something to dwell upon.
So fast to pray for what we want
but too late to change when deed is done.

With only my own company
I really did feel so alone,
another lesson I have learnt.
Take time to think before you moan.

At the time their was no doubt
I needed someone here to share.
That Paradise that I call home
was quieter before she got there.

A place to roam in happiness,
a place where I could meditate
where feelings so unleashed themselves.
But driven now to medicate.

From Paradise to living hell.
I sin for showing such remorse
with now a very saddened life
with no parole and no divorce.

She looks of heaven, so divine,
her shapely contours take their toll.
Until she opens up her mouth
then life takes on another role.

When what she see’s is what she wants.
Of all the fruits that lay to hand.
The one she wants is so forebode,
forbidden fruit is Gods demand.

That apple hanging true and bright,
gleaming in the mid-day sun.
She yearns to feast upon its taste
and No's a battle far from won.

I supplement with other fruits
that are delicious to the taste.
I explain the rules as God set out,
my words are truly just a waste.

I blame that serpent for my toil
for putting ideas in her mind.
That slimy slinky reptile ****,
looks far from good and far from kind.

They sit together scheming pair,
trying to draw at my resolve
to leave that ever calling fruit
in place where it did first evolve.

Temptation is ****** upon me
with loss of my marital rite.
Poor down trodden, hopeless male
is feeling pressured, every night.

She swoons around in tender pose
promising things that take my mind.
Portraying wanted silhouette
with glistening ******* and smooth behind.

Positioned touch in private place
and my temperature can't take much more.
To get hands on forbidden fruit
has changed this Angel into *****.

My resolve does lessen by the hour
too make sweet love is what may sway.
I’ll promise anything for this,
forget the price that is to pay.

Eventually I give it up,
placing the fruit before her feet
and all for what I ask myself
this apple tasting far from sweet.

The snake it shows a sneaky grin
and slithers off along its path
and God turns up,he's far from pleased
and this is where we feel his wrath.

Cast away from Paradise,
eternally to carry sin.
Adam and Eve are homeless now,
our children sinners before they begin.

Things were easier on my own
with no corruption, no temptation.
It wasn’t until this ***** turned up
and led man into degradation.

Is there a moral I can say?
Something to help my brothers know.
Yes life was blissful when alone.
Man was better without the Wo.

Its all her fault I wasn't bad.
So please don't take the time to gloat.
I was weak and temptation won
leaving this lump in my throat.

I sit here in silence
trying to write
a task that will see me
far into the night.

Struggling with lyric,
wrestling with word
finding all my idea’s
absolutely absurd.

My mind a fiasco,
scrambled and locked.
Sentences stumbled.
My talent is blocked.

Though I sit concentrating,
my mind being a fighter
but there still is no tapping
on this old typewriter.

If just one idea
should reveal to me
an happier person
I know you would see.

If some lyrical phrase
would just come to my mind,
no longer amnesiac
and no longer blind.

I would wear out my fingers
typing what I desire.
Digits covered in plasters
whilst machine is on fire.

I would pick up a pencil
so I may carry on,
scribbling madly
till the lead is all gone.

But alas there is nothing
not even a grain
or anything else
floating round in my brain.

My nerves they are screeching,
my sinews in shock.
I pray never again
do I get writers block.

A long time ago
a wise man once said
never show all your cards.
Dear boy use your head.

If I can give you a tip
it's keep your audience guessing.
Don't let out all of your secrets
with the words your processing.

You may find it rewarding
when your stories arise
to put a twist in the tale
and create a surprise.

When they really expect
what they think happens next
take the pathway elsewhere
with a change to the text.

And when they wonder “What now”?
When they're feeling unsure,
like an Old Fisherman
you can cast out that lure.

Surely then they shall bite,
safely caught on your hook
and you can keep them all dangling
till they finish your book.

Yesterdays pain is following you
sits on your shoulder 'n don't set you free.
Took the wrong footin n stepped down on those,
lookin thru eyes that di'n't want to see.

We is diff'rent in colour
but skin an' blood just the same.
I am filled up wit' anger,
you is covered in shame.

Scared to look back
at hist'ry past
unable to turn from
what you wanted to last.

Tortured and toubled,
when it came to the clinch
you bought us along
an' introduced Mistuh Lynch.

To you Mistuh Whitey
we ar' lower than low,
Mistuh Blacky does the t'ings
that you don't want to know.

I belongs to the man,
just like-the dogs.
There for pickin' the crop
an' choppin' the logs.

Yesterdays pain's not goin' nowhere
It's stickin to you all o' the way.
Fo' the evil yo' done 'tis stayin' right there.
Never t' move, never t' sway.

Yeah yest'days pain is followin you
it sits on yo' shoulder 'n it won't set you free.
Cos you took the wrong footin' an' stepped down on those,
while starin' thru blind eyes that don't want t' see.