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 Jun 2015
Spike Milligan
Philip Le Barr,
Was knock down by a car,
On the road to Mandalay.
He was knocked down again
By a dust cart in Spain
And again in Zanzibar.
So,
He travled at night
In the pale moon light
Away from the traffic growl
But terrible luck
He was hit by a duck
Driven by an owl.
 Jun 2015
Mike Hauser
poetry has cost me my sanity

with that being said

if that's all it needs that's fine by me

i don't have that much left
 Jun 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
I'm not too lucky when I gamble
I lose more than I win
I would probably do better
If I tossed my money in a bin

Gambling is not just luck
It's timing and some skill
Some gamble for the fun of it
Some gamble for the thrill

To define exactly what it means
To risk money that you've earned
Means throwing out sensible thought
And not heeding what you've learned

For example, I played poker
And I lost most every cent
I lost my mortgage payment
Now, I'm living in a tent

To win it back I chose to go
And bet double at the track
The first horse that I bet on
Fell and broke his back

The second horse was scratched
I was in for a bad night
My fifth horse only had three legs
And he could just turn right

The next one had a jockey
Who's eyes were badly crossed
I won't tell you how he finished
But, I'll tell you that he lost

To gain back my small pittance
I went to the greyhound track
My first dog had a rider
A small monkey on his back

In the third race I got daring
And I bet on number three
Once the race got started
He had to stop and ***

I picked a dog in the fifth race
Just because I liked his name
It was the best one I had ever heard
"I'MBETYOU'RESORRYTHATYOUCAME"

The odds were long but what the hell
I was now gambling just for fun
Not only did he catch the rabbit
My ****** dog had won

I think I've got the secret now
I know just how to win
If I get tempted to go back and bet
I'll throw my money in the bin.
 Jun 2015
Samantha Ellis
you are the voice
of my most cruel thoughts
remind me of all the
tears, and nightmare i have fought

you tear me down each day
haven't seen you in years
but you're still here
one of my greatest fears

tortured by the memories
you've cursed me with
ask me if i miss you
i plead the fifth

please get out stay out
stop living in my head
stop making me scared
to live for myself instead

i can't be haunted anymore
but you linger here
never fading out
i need you to dissapear
 Jun 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
It is with great sadness that I must announce that wit has withered and died. Actually, it probably died years back, but, like a character on a soap opera, it returns in flashbacks on occasion.

The ability to use wit to insult, as Will Rogers, Dorothy Parker, and the great writers of the past is no more. The use of wit to make someone leave feeling good about themselves, while having just been put in their place verbally, is an art.

I told someone the other day that he was a veldt of intellect, he didn’t know what veldt meant, I could see from the complete look of “duh” on his face. He told me *******….and then after I laughed, he said it again.

This is the replacement comeback now….*******. Witty…at the least. Groucho Marx, was great with the witty comeback, Noel Coward was a genius with his ability to use wit to disarm a situation. Now, *******. yep….that’s it.

If, wit has a resurgence and there is a verbal afterlife, let’s hope ******* is left at the door, holding a copy of watchtower.
 May 2015
josin137
When you came into my life,
You brought in colours

...

And when you left,
You took them with you.
 May 2015
PrttyBrd
Crazy reared its many heads
Twisted shades of paisley swirls
Kaleidoscope emotionality
Rollercoaster of fear and love
Through the storms of mushroom clouds
An air of peace remained
For that ever-changing scene
Was founded in the purest love
The realest dream come true
No fear of insanity consuming truth
Truth is kaleidoscopes are beautiful
Never boring by design
There is peace in the knowledge
That crazy is exceptional, brilliant
To know a soul, exciting
And through it all
We traverse the universe as one
Riding the wings of insanity
Skiing across the seas
On the backs of narwhals
Simply because they are awesome
32315
Settling into the reality that forever exists and it is insanely beautiful
 May 2015
Poetic T
"Where do I begin"
It was mostly normal, then it wasn't.
I'd say it was *quick
but it wasn't,
**** the pain, never felt anything
like this, my flesh as if it was pealing
One layer at a time.

"I felt clammy"
"I felt bleak numbness"
"Then I felt nothing"


DAY ONE (Death)

I was eyed open, I had pasted in
Fear, vision bleached as if
No one was longer here, but
I saw all the tears, hands upon
My cold ridged chest. I could
Make out voices as if spoken
Far, but all was unclear.


DAY TWO (morgue)

I felt each blade cut upon me,
Violating my flesh, had  I not
Suffered in life, pain, anguish.
Now they handle me as if I
Were nothing, but parts to be
Throw on scales, is life weighed
Out, no dignity even in death.
I hear the voices, footsteps pass
My eyes are still open, my vision
Of aluminium surrounds. They
Stitched me, but I am neither
Whole or one. They took from
Me, I have no heart it is gone,
They itch its maddening I need
To touch but they rub on cold
Flesh touching dead bone.


WEEK  ONE (Coffin)

I hear tears as my gaze is forward
Never closed, no coins for the
Man of the river to find peace,
I'm now travelling all alone.
My eyes wide open, they touch
Upon my artificially kept skin,
Make up to hide those spots
Where death has prematurely
Set in. They cry their tears on
Wood they fall, some are
Meaningful, sorrow sensed
In there voice. Others are just
Show boating their grief, only
To see if there was anything in
The cookie jar now I'm gone.  


MONTH ONE (Enclosed Isolation)

The darkness is never changing,
Time has no meaning underground.
I scream in silence, my lips, vocals
Do not move but inside it reverberates
Around. Nice interior, soft on dead
Flesh. I saw it land on me, that blue bottle
Buzzing around, It sat upon me, did
What it wanted, now I feel them within.
If I were alive would this be a sensation
Of being ticked or horror as they eat
What is now decaying within.

MONTH SIX (Alone)

"I miss them"
But time moved on they feasted
For what was an eternity, consuming
Me, then upon themselves. Till all
Was still, and only death was
Welcomed once again in this
Lonely place of wood and bone.  
I am pure of the mortal world,
No flesh, sight unseen that went
Long ago. I am so isolated down
Here, no longer do I sense footsteps
Above, the mumbling of voices
Silenced never returning to this
Casket of torment in the darkness
I am trapped within alone.


YEAR??

I can see why the dead hate you all,
Leaving us in these dark prisons,
Why leave us like this, why not
Cremation let us in the essence
Of ash be free. I am trapped in this
White cage of bone, waiting  for that
Time when to dust it falls. I am a
Dead man hear me moan, You hear
Those noises in the graveyards, when
All is still. it is the dead in there prisons
Never free, till bone is to dust. I give
One warning to those above, burn
Your dead lest yourself you find
Trapped within a prison forsaken in this *shell.
 May 2015
MereCat
They become names
Like the rims of baked-bean tins
That have to be handled with care

They are a bunch of flowers
Tied to a lamppost
Or a bench with words carved in

They are a Wikipedia page
Or a library shelf
Or a nothing
A nobody

They swell into memories
Wilted and swimming like wax
They seem to be stood there
When the sunlight blusters
Over dust
Because dust is just dead cells
That we all inhale
Exhale
Like we’ll choke them back into existence

They reside in half-empty
Boxes of tissues
Cigarette packets
The bubbles in lemonade

They become a mantelpiece of photographs
And sympathy cards
Broken toys
Empty T-shirts that you’ll try to turn into puppets
Sat in their wardrobe

They fall into certain songs
Certain car journeys
Occasionally they borrow your tongue
To continue voicing certain phrases
Certain people
Certain places
Certain rooms
Certain tastes
Certain seasons
Certain sunsets

Or maybe they just toss and turn
Beneath the church built of handkerchiefs
Like commuters coffined into underground trains
Wondering whether they can still believe
In tunnels
And golden lights.
 May 2015
Forgotten Heart
Now that you kissed me,
you kissed me so hard
That I do feel like
I don't want anything else
In this whole world
as I know that
nothing in this world
can replace the taste
of your **** lips
10/05/2015
I still have that taste in my lips
 May 2015
Samantha Ellis
i would give you
the air out of my lungs
the best taste
stolen from my tongue
all the sunsets i've ever seen
all the places i've ever been
my beating heart
my bulls-eye dart
take my smile
my first born child-

if only you'd take them from me
if only you'd love me

~S.E
 May 2015
Roger Turner - Poet
There's strange noises round these parts
Tales of zombies too
Haunted cabins, ghostly sights
All sorts of witches brew

We all laugh when we hear stories
Stories that we know aren't true
There's a drink that folks all know
And it ain't called witches brew

There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening

moving lights out in the wood
strange visions on the beach
swamp gas, that's what I would say
redneck zombies....that's a reach

tourist folk see things a plenty
they believe all of our tales
like the one about that boy Ahab
going chasing that white whale

There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening


if there was such a thing as zombies
wandering round out here
i'd figure it was just my kin folk
after a case or two of beer

zombies like to eat folks brains
and tear them all apart
now to a redneck, that there's work
and rednecks aren't that smart

There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening
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