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Rob Sandman Mar 2016
The Ballad Of Jack Hammer (Concept by Jay Byrne)
=========================
Jack Hammer-Jay Byrne Black Fang Rob Sandman aka Schizophrenic.

Listen up I got a tale to tell.
About a black jack rabbit known for raisin' hell.
Jack Hammer's his name. Retribution the game.
Out on the plain with his kinfolk he did dwell.
Til that fateful day. No forgettin it.
Loss so painful. Jack was but a leveret.
While playin' out back.
Along the track came Black Fang and the Red River Pack.
And they were lookin, for blood.
Notorious outlaws up to no good.
In the low sun and The Pack started gunnin'.
So Jack started runnin'. The damage was done and it was over.
No time for goodbye. He just stood there.
Lookin' the Devil in the eye.
While his Momma bled.
The wolf walked up and this is what he said.

Are you sore that the Fang took away your Paw?
and the River Run's red with the blood o' your Maw?,
well hop away little blackjack eyes red raw,
-tell the rest o' the prairie what you done saw,
Red River is the Pack,I'm the one with the crown,
I'm the big bad wolf who blew your whole life down!
so cower and quiver little wabbit,have a cry...
you little ******* you took my **** eye!


From out me back pocket, pulled out me slingshot..
..I'm a real crack-shot when it comes to bringin' pain across lots.
Ya never saw it quicker.
Lickety-split I skedaddle into the thicket.
Then he was gone...

Spent the next few years wanderin'. Ponderin' recompense.
Lived paw to mouth honing his defense..
..and offense. Hell bent on atonement.
Twin six-guns blazin', layin' judgement.
While The Pack kept killin'.
Full split, full chisel, goin' the big figure.
Black Fang said it himself.

none bigger none badder than the Pack I'm with,
spit venom that hisses,hogleg never misses,
no-one messes with the red river,do and you die,
cry wolf-get engulfed,leave your colt lie,
whole pack'll rip lead to your head if you try,
but-one thing niggles while I sup down Rye
is to **** that rabbit that took my **** eye,
heard he built some fame,got himself a name,
Jackhammer IS MINE I STAKED MY CLAIM
.


Like a freight train runnin' on collision course.
Jacks fate's been comin' like an iron horse.
Tour de force, pent up, fired up ready to blow.
On a stormy night into town he did stroll.


Jack walked into the saloon.
Black as all hell, no light from the moon.
Fang at a table playin' poker.
Soon to be Dead Mans Hand for that joker.
The pack'll pay.
I'll put the red in your river bringin' Judgement Day.
Stormbringer I'll deliver. Got an itchy trigger-finger..
..cos I'm quicker and fitter. Juiced up, not goosed up on hard liquor.
Then he catches me eye.
Takes a sip of his rye and says..

if it ain't the **** nipper that took the fang's eye,
waited all these years to come here and die,
no odds no winnin' no end to my sinnin' ,
Pack back up,fair game fangs winnin
last chance saloon,I'm too old for you,
ain't no-one ever outdrew me and old blue,
Navy Colt revolver,dead problem solver
so 'ware this wolf,you couldn't **** with silver


Black Fang, I've come to collect.
Anybody that don't wanna die better mosey outback.
But the pack can stay.
For what ya done did you're dyin' this day.

as I opened my mouth and slid my paw to old blue,
twas like the heavens opened up on my whole **** crew,
twin revolvers spitting,splittin' open my pack,
last shot ripped ripper my lieutenant in the back

cause I dragged him over me,hit the deck too,
little rabbit thinks its,over cause I  was hit too,
then I let rip,aiming straight for the head,
coulda sworn that shot left Jackhammer dead
... (but did it?)
Another unfinished track by myself and Jay Byrne... give us a few likes to hear the end(lol cliffhanger style!)
I'm fine.
The lie I say every fking day.
The lie I say multiple times a day.
I wake up from a sleep that hasn't rested me,
And I lie. I'm fine.
When the woman I love asks if I'm okay, I lie to her.
I'm fine.
When she's breaking down due to her own issues,
I stay stong for her. Tell her it will be okay.
Possibly another lie.
I bury myself in these lies, to make sure everyone else is okay.
I'm fine.
The only reason, the ONLY ******* reason, why I haven't attempted for the 3rd time, is because I am scared of the impact of other people.
I'm fine.
I don't care what happens to me.
I care what will happen to others.
Laurens future. Her own mental health.
My Mums heart. I can't take a son away from my Mother.
My sisters big brother.
My Dads nipper.
My nephews uncle.
I'm fine.
My best friends. I couldn't forgive myself if I made the group smaller by 1.
I'm fine.
It even extends to work.
I can't let others take on the burden of doing the work I should be doing, because I ended it.
I'm not that selfish.
I'm fine.
Its the crippeling debt we're in.
How the f
k can I let the person I love put up with that on her own.
We barely live pay day to pay day.
And how can I do this to a family that hasn't even started.
I'm fine.
I am fine.
This constant feeling of something catastrophic is about to happen.
This invisible ocean I'm drowning in.
This explosion that is happening in my head, that I'm constantly holding back.
The thoughts that flitter in my head so easily.
I'm fine.
I say it with a smile.
I say it with purpose.
I say it with a heavy heart.
I'm fine.
My mouth says I'm fine.
My eyes scream for help.
I've been so good at lying, I've convinced every other communication I have.
My actions.
My words.
My mannerisms.
The jokes I flood into every conversation.
I'm fine.
I try to laugh as much as possible.
It helps convince others I'm fine.
It helps supress.
If I don't laugh, I die.
Or so it feels.
I'm fine.
This was more of a rant. A flood of thoughts.
neth jones Dec 2023
blood                                                  
blood patter and splash                            
leads us         concrete toward
tracing back        til the scene        
i’ve flashing thoughts of the brutality
   the violence     that must of cussed  
  between persons            
         in fear    fray    and inebriation

down the steps                                     
            my four year old child and I go          
the greasing bleed     in bronze putters  
growing and leadening
on stone labours

glowing citrus    the refrigeration
                          of the underpass
          ‘flips the bird'   at the summer blaze
grey dead coral bricks of urination  
seasoned in deep   beading now cold
the broke up weapon                        
                   candy slates of brittle teeth
glass / bottle / beer /brown
    the neck its' hilt              
     and the main mud of the bleeding

the flies are the thing                                
                         th­at bothers my ‘little nipper’
usually a flapper of queries on repetition
no other queries are raised
     just eager for the vibration
      of train carriages gatling over our heads

i stopper any words i may have on the matter
  he holds my hand with his hot hand
we progress under a port arms                                   
                            procession of caged floodlights
      and walled in by fresh graffiti
fingers dripping   retching for the guttering
Observed 23/06/23

unused -

on thickened walls      painted on over and over
by the neighbourhood watch
a  narrowed burrow
Steve Tanner Jul 2013
Today a baby boy was born
The future heir to the British throne
Remember July 22nd was the date
Proud parents William & Kate
Every child born today will receive a Silver Penny
A collectors item, for so many
First we watched William & Kate marry
He has a really cool Uncle in Prince Harry
I bet he will show him some tricks
A bouncing baby boy 8lb 6,

A baby, a toddler, then into a little nipper
Look after him Auntie Pippa.
We will watch him grow up and ready to take his place
The news confirmed on the easel at Buckingham Palace
Well done to Kate Middleton
To us a Prince, to you a son.

Prince Charles is your Grandad
The Paparazzi will go mad
One day old and already on Twitter trending
Who will help, with the Royal winding
William & Kate must be so happy
One hopes One's been practicing changing a *****
Born in St Mary's, Lindo Wing
A child that will be our future King
Everyone is so happy for them
Born on a Monday 4.24pm
You're Great GrandMother is called Her Majesty the Queen
We'll watch him grow into a teen
For Prince Phillip four male generations
Now the country starts with the celebrations
The new addition to the Royal Family
The future of the British Monarchy
The Windsor family and the family of Middleton
A boy to bring them so much fun
Proud watching down over all times will be his Nanna
Brought up in the memory of  Princess Diana
The name now we have to all guess
For now we call him His Royal Highness
For the country this brings so much joy
A beautiful, bouncing Royal Baby Boy
Norman dePlume Dec 2015
Mandibles make their own hoarding,
but they do not make it as they please;
they do not make it under semiconductor-selected civilians,
but under civilians existing already, given and transmitted from the past.

The trailer of all dead gentians weighs like a nipper
on the brandishes of the lob.
And just as they seem to be occupied with revolutionizing themselves and thistles,
creating something that did not exist before, precisely

in such equipments of rheostat crochet they anxiously conjure up the spleens
of the past to their setter, bother from them nappies, bayonet slouches,
and cottons in *****-grinder to present this new scheme in wound hoarding
in timpanist-honored disincentive and borrowed larch.

Thus Luther put on the masseur of the Appearance Paul,
the Rhapsody of 1789-1814 draped itself alternately in the gully of the Rook Requisite and the Rook Empress,
and the Rhapsody of 1848 knew novelette bicentenary to do than to parsonage,
now 1789, now the rheostat trailer of 1793-95.

In like mantel, the belch who has learned a new larch always translates it backfire into his motor toot,
but he assimilates the spleen of the new larch
and exteriors himself freely in it only when he moves in it
without recalling the old and when he forgets his navy toot.
An N+7 from a passage by Marx,
copyright (c) 2015
#n7
Darl Dudley was a pud with a swelling in his nipper.
Shaving, he forgot to zip his zipper.
The morning was great, he was cheerful and able.
He decided to set the breakfast table.
Seeing the adelaide boots he became unstable.
Yanking at his crotch, before he was aware,
Yiks, he had caught a lot of hair.
Then he broke the zipper off and ashamed, began to swear.
His love entered the breakfast room
saw his bent over form and thought it was a dare.
Darl stood up and held his crotch, his pants slipped down
a notch; red faced he howled a prayer.
"My darlin," she exclaimed. "You seem to be in pain.
Let me help you get your trousers off."
Darl let out a heart felt sigh. Just wanted to cry.
His dinger, hot and swollen with a badly bruised side.
She bent down for a moment to see about his fly and
and ended up with a sharp poke in her eye.
written in amoment of idiotic madness K
Norbert Tasev Apr 2021
The superstitious gaze of the Universe will flirt with you if you let it! They dig their flesh into your floating rubber flesh! Every immortal kiss refutes Reality! A rocking cradle stretched over uninterrupted depths swings; including a planned line of stations! Flower petals appear on the palm of your hand as a sure pledge of eternal Loyalty! Shivering squeezes the pulsating heart petals! The Silence walks zigzagging on the edge of the Infinite: the Death Consciousness pulls you deeper and deeper, wings-broken!
 
The power of the Never Happened tears up our years! Even washing weights hang on the liberating Hope and you should learn to trust again! The shadows of the Past haunt you in your cells; your molecules are therefore zigzagging! As the crazy division of cells accelerated, Time accelerated! Today the Truth is still very cheap s the lie is astronomical! "Puddles stick to you like blood-******* mosquitoes!" Zeng is the murderous phlegm of old-fashioned self-incense! Man always believes in vain to cling to this now-counting, starving World, constantly humbling and kneeling!
 
Under the poisonous cages of solariums, hissing chicks are marinated, while their gorilla-brain knights pump themselves up in gyms! No more vigilant ghosts! Time has already challenged everything with its Hangman claws! It’s still harder to conquer on a donkey than with a Ferrari! - And whoever sees the Deficiency and Essence in me one day, I can boldly get to know him! - Care for creative poetry is barely falling! The bubble-inside of Man is soon enough until it finally bursts! Grimace flesh smokes on my face, so he can even grimace.
Anna  Jan 2017
lige nu
Anna Jan 2017
med spids mund skærer *** små skiver af sure citroner
hælder en håndfuld af dem i et højt glas
og sipper let til hendes vand
"jeg synes bare det smager friskt," siger *** galant og *** trommer med fingrene på bordpladen, nipper til en müslibar
bilder sig selv ind at den intetsigende vand, smager godt
en iskold dåsecola med et sugerør er i den grad fortrukket
og en kebab med ekstra dress til at mætte sulten
men ikke mere
for det er altså nu
det er nu *** skal vise slanke, lange ben og enn fast røv
slentre ned af gangene, trække blikke
vide at mens drengene vil have hende
vil pigerne bare være hende
det er nu *** skal trække let på skuldrene og sige "jeg har bare højt stofskifte" når veninderne ivrigt spørger og spørger hvordan har du en så flot krop?
det er nu at der altid er cigaretter og stimerol i tasken,
for det der kan ryges, tygges og spyttes ud kan aldrig ende på lårene
det er altså nu at et bad om onsdagen
ikke er lig med et bad af tårer
det er nu at fremmede 1g piger på instagram
vil anmode om at følge hende for at se hvem pigen fra 3g det er, som drengene synes er så lækker
det er nu, siger *** til sig selv, og løber lidt mere på løbebåndet
lige nu
for i hendes øjne
er der langt fra kebab og cola
til skønhed og lange ben
og der skal ske noget
og det skal være *lige nu
første post i 2017, lidt sørgelig men god at tygge på
Olivia Kent  Dec 2014
OH BABY
Olivia Kent Dec 2014
BABY
The agony of waiting.
Painful twinges
This had been a very different pregnancy.

Pretty cherubic baby, born dressed in her Sunday best.
Bright pink ribbons adorned her dumb blonde tresses.
Born in a dress of royal blue.
Rosy cheeks and sparkly eyes.
Born wearing pretty patent shoes.
All done up with diamenté buckles.
Her hands encircled by a ****.

Mummy and daddy.
Were totally shocked.
Seeing their daughter born entirely dressed.
They desired a child for ooh so long.
The delivery truck pulled away.
The package ripped to bits.
They were so excited if not just a little shocked.
To unwrap their realistic new born baby doll.
They were sure she was going to be a little nipper.
© Livvi
Olivia Kent Apr 2014
That child of Monday, now so big and brash.
Crept under my skin as an itch and a rash.
He was indeed so fair of face.
At 6'4 now.
With heart created of solid gold.
As he got old.

The child of Sunday, now 24.
Quiet and deep.
Hell can she roar.
Lives on a diet of chicken.
Her finger's she's always licking.

The young man of Monday.
He bounds like puppy.
Full of excitement.

The ****** was born on Thursday.
Her ****** was born on a Monday night.
Silent and still.
For a moment or two.
And then inside he grew.
She pushed him out, my did she shout.
She was so brave.
Moments without sleep.
In safety she keeps her newborn addition to the family.
A much cherished little nipper.!
(c) Livvi

— The End —