"Sit down, shut up and listen....
"Don't tell her that your feet,
start to glisten
and go clammy when you meet,
"And keep it to yourself,
that your desperate on the shelf,
and missin' (you know what),
so desperateleeee....

"So never let her know,
you've been lickin' her window,
never  tell her of your
trouble down belowwww..!"
"And if your feelings linger,
don't offer her your fingers -
here love have a  smell!
*******!

"As  for playing hard to get,
you may as well forget,
there's nae a lassie in the
toon so desperate!"
"But don't you start a-praying,
God will laff at what you're saying,
and send you down
to Satan for a pet".

"Now it does seem that is that,
you're a skinny Welshy ****,
you will hear it from
Scotswomen one and all
They will cut you down to size,
stick their fingers in your eyes,
and make a set of earrings from your *****!"

"The only chance you got,
is to study and to swot,
to practice every hour and every day.
And if it ****** fails,
you just polish up your nails,
and sing ok, I'll be a ****** gay!"

Tonight I thought I'd take a ride,
to Cally woods, the tracks are wide,
but all aghast - so were my eyes,
Jack Frost was waiting there outside.

"come out" he whispered with a smile
"the air is sweet, the breeze is mild,
what better for you, lad, today,
than to ride and dream the night away?"

So toiling through the snow and ice,
I went, though doubting his advice.
Although so sharp the air this night,
I felt beyond old Jacks hard bite!

An hour went by, the cold crept in,
Jack cracked his thin lips with a grin.
"You'll be mine soon my lad" he said,
"another hour, you will be dead"

but I'd a trick up my cold sleeve,
a trick that made old Jack frost grieve,
I melt his cold with warmest love,
my guardian angel flies above..

Do you forget,
or burn your memories into your heart?
Wipe the mind clean,
or juggle the shattered flaws of gone?
Blame God, or x-rays,
or chance or fate?
Remember love,
or drown in hate?
You forgot it all, his 5 years.
All you have left is anger,
Your love for him now less to you
than your hate for God.
You've denied  his face, won't hear his voice.
Don't see him playing, so ill with his toys.
yet giving his presents away,
to another sick boy.
5 years of sickness,
5 years of joy.
I see him, hear him,
smell his little baby smell.
I will remember him forevermore,
he still was the best of us four.

Saw sunlight through ***** glass.
When I'm not ready it brings it back.
To constrained, crushed flat.
The past comes flying at my brain.
No, not again. The degrading.
The pain.
Lie down shut up, or I'll hurt you worse.
We'll stop when we've had enough,
or put you in a hearse.
With your poor ******* dying brother.
If you tell, We'll tell.
And the doctors will stop.
It will be your fault.
Now, do what she tells you!
Grinding into the concrete,
my 8 yr face crushed, "He fell."
Twisted arms.
When men kick a child hard in the *****,
and ****, you stay down,
barely a bruise.
To damaged to cry.
No-one came,
Except them,
They came quite a few times.
Till they got tired.
Was she a mother?
Was I practice for her own,
or was I the pinnacle?
Sunlight through ***** glass,
with blood, **** and stuff
running out my ***.
No-one
ever
came

Goats and skinheads try to boast
they say they do it more than most!
Musk ox have a mighty try
Bang! A crash to split the sky.
Alpine sheep, buffalos too
all decry "the rest are poo!"
But they see stars around their nut
when they receive a Dragon ****.
No run up or deep breath required
**** all day long , they're never tired.
Oh how the jealous ones desire
a headbutt fuelled with dragon fire!

Smaug the Dragon? A mere shrimp!
Fasticollaton, was really a wimp.
The Nasty one from Tolkien,
that ravaged Nargothrond?
Less scary than David Niven as James Bond.
The one that makes me turn to jelly,
was the little blonde one, name of Kelly!
Bruised my arm, broke my finger,
told me that my smelly feet linger.
Ate my chicken, said she didn't,
I thought the ****** thing was hidden!
Twelve years since I moved away,
from the scary friend who turned me grey.
Miss the little dragon so,
wherever she is, I hope she knows..

Deep earth-brood brotherhood of pain
anguish born no dreams or sleep
twisted-warren foul eyes light
hurt and hate their secrets keep
no place for clean no time for peace
this darkling land of no hope-sound
just listen in the night and pray
they stay beneath the ground

I am Miss Eluned Cyfeiliog the Warm
lonely in my life
my blue eyes look for distant mountains
where no choirs or trumpets sound
In Llwnypia I am oppressed by grief
At Mynnydd Du melancholy stalks me
I sought the bishops and the holy men
but winter is cold and the ocean grey
I loved the forests quiet glades
Pity the maiden who lingers in such courts

Excuses are like hooses, they involve dwelling,
though you are all to wise and aren't buying what we're selling.

Cocconed within the words run thin
with each repetetive telling.

If excuses were like mooses with big handles on their heads,
the scary waft would warn you off and fibs not need be said.

(but the moose could start a-pooin' and the carpet would be ruined,
ravaged to its last remaining thread).

So feeling dicky, slightly sicky, see the daughters, broken waters,
what the hell comes first into the mind,

leave behind.

Explicit content, oh that ****** thing
that burns your ears and makes them sting.

Like cussing and swearing, or pictures you draw
in the head of a reader, leaving nerves raw.

Four letter flummery, f - words to boot!
Will we ever go down a more civilised route

And be nice.....

Dead man walking                dazed
eyes blank                               and
killed by years                      searching
sraining to see                        for
the one thing that                    just
he knows will never come         one
spirit ground to the dust of tombs    slight
pallid spectres of no warmth                     chance
moving into the fringe of his gaze                 but
his lethargy tells                                                     as
there is little left for them to take                  so
no spark                                                                  often
no light                                                                  before
passion for life denied                                  whenever
the cloying                                                            comes
the clinging                                                            some
filth left upon him                                            desperate
in the dark                                                            perhaps
no choice but to                                               undeserved
try to wash this                                                     last
scar                                                                          clean
wound                                                                   chance
to scrape                                                              away
and to cut                                                            into
till blood flows                                                  my
knife cleanses nothing                               future
just mocks                                                       I
have nothing  left                                          fail
not even my blood                                       myself
drained out and soiled                               again

You try to fly on others light,
or use them to carry you,
like a burr on a lamb's fleece.
You try to cloud my mind,
tell me how many failed you,
and fail you still.
I  fail, fail to be seduced.
By your narcissistic tales.
I want to love people.
I fear to love people.
I almost like you.
I will be nice to you.
But never say those things,
about  people who matter.
I bear a torch for those I love.
And I will burn you.

Quietest in the white expanse of winter,
Waiting, watching, the landscape open to my sharp eyes.
A pin dropped in snow would make more noise
Than my perfect, crouching form.
I mark the crows as they flit across the sky,
Warm memories of summer stalking in the hedgerow.
My ears flicker to a distant voice,
As you walk up towards the farm.
I will glide over the crisp snow to rub around your legs,
You and I, both finding our way home.

Jeremy Wyatt.

Aren't fish fun!
I have one.
My best chum.
Love it to death.
So hold your breath,
fish, and come!
Get in my pocket,
we'll go and find Mum!

It is locked up solid
it sounds so squalid
horrid even torrid
my flirt gland is stuck shut
no I am not a nut
but
not got a feeling in my gut
if I do I'll run away
from you
probably so fast
there will be a sonic boom
as I leave the room
thinking of
my impending doom
need a woman full of fight
who'll tag me bag me
put me right
needs to be a real tough gal
got to sneak her by my pal
so why do I just give on up?
women in Wales say that I am tup
never trying is my only plan
shrinking violet not a man
will I change?
Will I hell!
such a coward can't you tell
keep on like this till I die
then hide from women in the sky X

Flying bloom to bloom,
but no mere dance this faultless path.
You favour puple,
so it seems.
Clover, thistle, orchid, no dream-like drift this bustling  march.
In each quick kiss no flower touched twice,
no frantic frenzy,
"keep on, keep on" your gentle buzzing seems to say.
Until, pushing through an orchids sweet embrace,
head buried in the blooms,
Your tiny heart
quietly
ceases
to beat...

All these years, confused and bereft.
Dying so young with harsh grief left.
But they still will come if you catch their eyes.
Six it says,  so hard to count
when they play around your feet.
To small to fear,
so wanting to be loved.

Meant to see them Yesterday,
let them down.
Forgot.
Margaret wouldn't,
She'd be there, and James,
in the distance, old but smiling.
To  say hello
to their six wee babies in the snow.

Keep me a spot,
for in years to come,
I'll stand watching
with your Dad and Mum.

Walking out into the night
no wind to stir the trees out of watchful quiet
silver-blue the ground frozen hard
water noise sounds clear masking distant men sound
cars and trucks and harshness
move through the wood move through time
nothing bad there tonight unless you take it
and we did not
bright distant stars share the sky with her
and most fade in respectful humility
and we wonder at our smallness
most are inside watching, warming, waiting
missing this and that makes us feel more keenly
the wonder as the ancient ones felt it
their blood is in our veins, their atoms in us and the ground
so they are part of us and our souls remember them
gaze at the moon the pole star the ice in the sky
light incense, toast the moon, scatter wine on the snow
blood red but nothing died here
something was born here
beneath the full moon

Biccets and pizza for our tea.
Blankets and toys that talk to me.
All this fun, what a world,
full of cakes half eaten, hurled!

Coloured  in with a felt tip pen.
Was my new game, in trouble again.
Green on the face and in my ear.
Thought it was a good idea!

Two years old and full of beans,
no time to sleep, the tiny wean.
Imagine how much fun She'll be,
next time she gets to play with me!

Green carpet rises to greet her
forest floor swells sea-like
a  wake of new growth marks her track
flowered footprints dance spring through the meadows
Gaia rising shapes all things

I know the tiresome emptiness off loss
Whispered prayers wind around me
tight as a linen sheet
I would rather hear the gale raging through the oak
than hear such words
I farm a gap in the clouds
My own father would make fierce account
of how my dreams aged him before his time
though the rocks whisper he was ruined
by long harsh years behind the plough
My mother dreamed winds from temperate lands
might blow across his brow
but rain and stone and sickly beasts filled his mind
Drab were the mourners in Horeb
who saw him fade into the earth
The only light was in the eyes
of those he will curse no more

Fly through the snow Matilda my Queen
in your cloak of white so new and clean
fly to Wallingford and Brien Fitzcount
race to him on your fine-bred mount.......

Nest met her as a maiden fair
sent to brush and braid her hair
they came to speak of her young life
So learning Nest was a young wife
Her husband taken ransomed high
noone yet his life to buy
So nest an offer makes the Queen
Her safety then she has forseen

"Henry's son and heir you be
promise now your word to me
my ancient spells will blind men's eyes
my mother taught me well and wise
Wear this magic woollen cloak
over which great Olwen spoke
no man will see you in the snow
ride free to Wallingford now Go!
But see you pay the price of mine
gold for my husband's freedom fine
If you fail me mark it well
you won't escape from my mother's spell

So Matilda fled and made her move
and Nest's fine gold she did approve
but time was run and so too late
The poor young knight had met his fate
The bargain that they had was done
yet though a high and lofty one
she sent a note back with the cloak
in it wishes gently wrote
"For the loss of your man
no gold will pay
so empty words
I will not say
But whatever you ask for
I will give
except to make
the dead man live"

"Send me two oxen
Welsh and stong
dark and quiet
each six feet long
a yolk of yew
a chain of steel
and what I do
I shall reveal"

the debt was paid
the oxen came
from Ruthin
perfect each the same
then off she went
alone and strong
a journey dark
a journey long

Nest came to lofty Norman towers
strong walls fine ladies in their bowers
threw a mist against the stones
here to find her lover's bones
Beast's chained to the Castle wall
hauled straight down they crash and fall
then stealing through the rush and mist
Olwen's cloak does she even exist
noone sees her at the grave
her oxen draw forth this poor Welsh knave
then mourning her loss they steal away
none go near she'll curse they say
Her keening song of tragedies
make even stone hearts feel unease
will her vengeance come down hard
will they fall by magic marred
the people quiver in the rain
feeling now her anguished pain
But fear not this girl of ancient sight
she is not here to hurt or fight
just here to find her lover's bones
and sing to them as she carries him home

Haggis the cat is quiet and gentle
hang on! No he is ****** mental
if you speak or touch he strikes,
and that's just people Haggis likes.
Fights with Vincent all day long
even when he's done no wrong.
Lets me stroke him when he's mellow
made a streak in me thats yellow
the other day he pinched my dinner
boxed my face like I'm a sinner.
Fought over my piece of lamb
one each end then Haggis WHAM!
Let me kiss him the other day
but I know soon he'll make me pay.
Yes, now I've crossed the Scottish border
I've found my place in the pecking order..
BOTTOM......

An E-mail came the other day
one man stood on another
I hope it wasn't seen
by his father or his mother
the one on top was smiling
with a gun over his head
the one beneath had staring eyes
perhaps because he's dead
Greetings from Afghanistan
my buddies e-mail went
a Christmas gift for you back home
to hell this man I sent..
I gave my friend some army gear
and clothes  to keep him dry
now he's killing people
and making mothers cry
should have given him a conscience
and love for fellow men
I hope he reads this poem
and he doesn't **** again

Saw a hare today so close I heard it breathe
ran straight by me then looked back
showing me how fast it can run
faster than anyone
follow me if you dare it's eyes shone
orange ringed bright speed and light
she won't hide and she won't fight
she'll just run
fastest thing in her fields
spring comes soon
dogs and guns
she'll keep running

Got that feeling in the gut?
Tummy stuck deep in a rut,
try and think of other things,
not of spewing up my ring.

Bleugh!

Give up almost right away,
cannot fight or hide today,
belly brewing like a storm.
Here it is, thick and warm.

gruggle (sound effects)

Tastes real bad up the wrong end,
whizzes round the toilet bend.
Like Senna and that Alain Prost,
my tummy has the last riposte.

Wuk, wuk, wurg.(I am NOT anorexic)

Shall I try a biccie now,
maybe milk out of a cow,
perhaps a swig of orange juice?
Whats the point, it's no use.

There's a demon in my guts,
giving duodenal butts,
feel it having so much fun,
did it get in through my ***?

Have to get the pills in soon,
hope that I can keep them down,
sat here shaking like a jelly,
heres some more, wow that was smelly!

Since I came here past the border,
exported with my gut disorder.
Need a rapid puke solution,
to end my Solway Firth pollution!

You heal me with a glance                              Even when I am unaware
You heal me with a touch                               Though I fear and pull away
You heal me with a smile                                Shining through your tears
You heal me with your words                      I heed what you say

I was lost and floating in despair's wind
not free like a seed
shackeled by loneliness

You felt me drifting and called me in
the freedom of your smile
the warmth of your touch
the passion of the love we share

Healing and changing

Gaia heals the land as I flower
beneath your hands

You're the Mother of the Earth
and I am your True Man

Beating steady beating fast
ancient rhythym of Albion's Green
dweller in earth and lair and field
lying close in grey and green
Your tunnels are like winding veins
that thread this land and never rest
eternal footsteps mark your path
wrought deeply into Gaia's breast

Got it in my sweaty hand,
ee ba gum lad, Ain't 't grand,
golden cone of foreign growth,
it's mine now, not just some or most.

Pop the end and squeeze it out,
whoops too much, shh! Do not shout.
Think I talk of sinful things?
That leave me ******* with dark eye-rings?
My life to waste?

Na, *******,
please don't feel distaste,
Denise just gave me a half!
Of a tube of henna paste!

He He He, squidgey fun on my tum,
because I cannot henna my B.U.M.

You carried me,
fed me,
but no debt I owe.
Centuries cradled,
King of your dank filth, bearing upon me the power to change a world.
And then came the day I raised my eyes to see your nations quail amidst the ruin of your flesh.
Perhaps one day again I'll bring to thee
Hell carried long in the belly of a flea...

She owes them nothing yet she still goes home,
squalid glances all they can give, the walking dead,
each one  fallen away from her respect or love.
The way wet filth falls from a  city sky,
but the moon and stars still shine above.

Soiled but inviolate, not marred by callous scorn,
no dreams of pulled triggers, not anymore.
Tonight is the last.
Tomorrow will come.
Tomorrow she will fly beside Angels.