Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Chris Neilson  Jul 2016
Festwich
Chris Neilson Jul 2016
They're all going to Festwich!
a festival in Prestwich
some bands are rather kitsch
with anticipation the air is rich

Half a mile from my abode
it's only down the road
rock bands set to explode

The chopper's in the sky
fireworks set to fly
i'm not going, why?

It was sold out months ago
my reactions were too slow
I'm now feeling the blow

They're walking past my window
dressed down with a place to go
to a rock n roll tribute show

Rock chicks, metal heads and loons
bands playing my favourite tunes
sporting Led Zep's runes

It's happening all so near
I need something to bring me cheer
I'm crying into my beer

They're all going to Festwich!
I'm going to build my own mosh pit
in my garden where i sit
where i'll stay 'til it's moonlit
Rock n Roll baby!
Lizzy  Oct 2014
self help
Lizzy Oct 2014
helping myself
with the help of some helpful voices
helping me live
to breathe with some assistance

fill my lungs
the taste of your air
will serve as a substitute
until i can stand again

fill my ears with deafening sound
swim in my veins and fix me
cure me of malaise
soothe my aching bones

help me help myself
help me help myself
help me help the lonely
help me help the ones like me
i went to self help fest last night. it was ******* perfect
CK Baker Apr 2017
Sunday sermons are spilling on the inner city streets
through the green heaps and brown bags
through the downtown whisperers
and sage solitude souls

Army bands prepare for march
their trench members filling packs with canister and cane
the high command and tricked militia head pinned
quick on the look for splinter, lorry and skuttle

Traffic patterns change at the COP connect
camouflage bearers break formal stride
battle men slip between colorful floats
unsuspecting slumlords (vein pricked and weary)
grin in their second suite dying rooms

Twitching men and rubbernecks
sit discreetly on the corner wall
JJ and the chief revere a 21 gun salute
holy rollers raise cheer (in a moment of silence)
chess men hold steady
with ivory cues

Flames belt from the distant sanatorium
streets are alive with crackle and dust
members of the attic group glance down from their glorified perch
an elderly man in a straight jacket (happy in the now)
sits solemnly in a cold reflective stare

It’s not far from the steely mud holes
from the flying fragments and pierced broken dreams
from the arsenal digs and madmen (who quietly turned the *****)
the ivy trellis
and flowing white gown
is a nocturne fit
for this elevated rolling highland
Next page