Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Back porch blues
I’m seeing ghosts
Skimming through
The pages
Burning bridges
Searching
For glory in my hell
Unaccompanied
Guilty innocence
What a pity
Had it all stripped just like that  
Orphaned
That look in your
Eyes that echos in pain
The sad little
Boy who cried
Wolf and no one came
Running to save him
How could his parents
Be so cruel
Abandon him in the direst
Of moments
That would shape the sands
Of time
What would the future hold
Wish I would have never known
The answers to that
Now a man struggling
With what ifs
All I wanted was to be a boy
And enjoy my childhood
Wondering where all the time went
Wasting away
In the distant cries  
Of a youth that took me under with it
Deadlines
lifelines
your time's coming.

You can't make this **** up
unless you make it up.

I
Take five?
and wonder if I'm a part of
the Brubeck Quartet.
Don't know where the night went
but went it friggin' did
and here am I
one eye open
hoping
that I'm still dreaming.

*******
I'm sweating as well
it's as hot as Hades
and
only half past five.

and cold showers do not suit old men
there's nothing left to shrivel up

I'm throwing in a woe or two
or three to make it thrice
getting out the deodorant
and
splashing on 'Old Spice'

So
this is me
at five thirty three
how's your day going?
Unexpected item
improvised explosive device

well that's not ******' nice, is it Cheryl?
put our boys in peril
at risk of their lives
and what about their wives?
oh
they'd be screaming mad.

Well, and not the wishing one
the wars go on
there's profit in them for the grey men
the men we don't see
the men that could be you and me
but they're not
because we ain't got that kind of ****
going on in our heads.
A quick reset
get
the tracks laid
pay off any debt
get more tracks laid

go loco
or build a loco'

Get steam up
pull away
and steam off.

I watched the 'Flying Scotsman'
back in sixty eight
pulling the mail train
and it never seemed to be late,
but the postman always was.

There is no weekend
when you're down to work again
them ******* have no shame and
think the weekend's one big game.

The stoker keeps on stoking
probably thinks he's woke in
some Utopian ideal.
Went to sleep hot
woke up hotter
probably got a spot o'
heatstroke.

Baking is not taking no
for an answer

they said it'd be cooler
but it's just
them fukers trying to fool ya.

So
it'll be a glass of cold water then?

Kitchen temperature
roasting
mercury rising
quicker than the Yorkshire pud'

not good enough.
The radio presenter asks:
how are you dealing with the heat?

I'd say
if you're not beat
not a dead beat
don't have swollen feet
you're doing ok.
Next page