Oi, Manchester, why are you so blue?
You built it all, there is nothing you can't do.
We were here first and we will be here last,
Our future is bleak? Well, so was our past.
We've had more than our share of ups and downs,
Aye, it's grim up north, but every class needs its clowns.

Oi, Manchester, chin up arr kid,
If they ask you who built it, you tell 'em we did,
We built this city with rock and roll,
Through rain and shine, with northern soul,
The only thing we never built was a great northern wall,
We invited each people and we welcomed them all.

Manchester, mate, things will get better,
Mother nature tries beat us but we've never let her,
No matter the odds or how savage their action,
We are the great power house, we never lose traction.
Each time we're knocked down we rebuild from the ashes,
we shoulder each other, we each take lashes.

Oi, Manchester, don't you forget your station,
We are the heart, we are the brain and the spine of a nation.
It was here we split the atom, and here where Rolls met Royce,
Swing those monkey arms and sing your Mankey voice
Be proud, be loud, there's no need to tiptoe,
And always remember that WE created VIMTO.

Oi, Manchester, I don't 'alf miss THAT smile,
It's the whole hog, the bees knees, the best by a mile,
There will be a day when we all laugh again,
Brighter, more hopeful, more promising then,
There will always be dark before the dawn,
But, oi, this is manchester, where all dreams are born.

Is this actually possible? Considering so few pf the planes were built... i dunno...



Manchester Bomber Wreck

Manchester bomber rotting away

Different than it was before

Holes in the surface skin

Many pieces missing

Broken in two

Separated by many feet

Engines fallen free

Skeletons of the crew inside

Unknown war grave except to them

Who haunt their lost bomber

Lying under the sea bed

To them they’re still flying

In the sky above enemy territory

Fighting for their lives

With a faulty engine

Not actually on fire

Then the flak hit them

Damaging the tail unit

Followed by an enemy fighter

Who shoots them full of holes

And kills the Flight Engineer

Hitting him with a 20mm cannon shell

But not before the gunners

Down the **** night fighter

The crippled bomber flies on

Slowly losing height

They’ll never reach the target

Nor return home to England

So drop their bombs on a small town

Unknowingly killing dozens

Four tons of bombs will do that

The Manchester bomber wasn’t fired on again

Losing height was the enemy

They decided what to do and drew lots

Bail out or ditch in the sea?

They decided to ditch

It was almost dawn

And the horizon lit up

They should of made it

But the faulty engine finally died

The bomber stalled and dug a wing in

It cartwheeled over the sea

Broke in two and sank

All aboard were knocked out

And taken to a watery grave

Unknown to the world except themselves

The only remaining Manchester bomber

A Rogue Mind Attacks Manchester


A rogue mind descends on a village square
ravishing it's children without a prayer.
Birds of peace gather and fight the fire
on it's wings rest hopes, civility inspires.

Up in the sky clouds weep at the mass loss
of young ones taken early in bearing the cross.
From this World, the descendants left in pain,
relatives and love ones befallen, crying in vain.

It hurts me to see the breadbasket of life
filled with ISIS and terrorist inciting strife.
For the seeds they plant grab at our hearts,
such devilish intertwines taking our lives apart.

How I wish a drone peaks into their yellow skies,
taking them all out, like an eye for an eye.
Maybe so that's the solution for their pillage,
so, now, the World be tighter than the Olympic villages.

Logan Robertson

5/24/17

Don’t look down
where emaciated bodies lie beyond salvation
they’re beneath you
when you preach for profit.

Don’t look down
to idle bones on the edge of prison walls
they’ve already fallen
their hands too bloodied to shake
their eyes too blind to see the mistakes they are yet to make.
Save the souls with the pound sign goals
avert your eyes from the misery of the fallen
they’re not even there
if you don’t look down.

THIS CITY
This life, this people, this city.
All living in a certain geographical area – here, this city.
Dying eventually, one day which only God knows.
Today under a tram or of old age.
This city with many names, is it like your city?
I know you were a cold war target, so were we.
People make love, fight, laugh, cry
in your city just like in my city.
You have been bombed, so have we.
Quick, dig them out! Shall we join them
and **** them, their corpses can't say no!
Go to see a Goth band, add our own
little histories to a history of this city?

The stars are out
and you know the way
- Piccadilly, Rusholme,
Withington, Wythenshawe.
These are names that could
freeze your soul in blue
and maybe light a candle
in the dark if you could
only find a spark.
Every building is an open door,
every street an absent flower
that unkown gods collected
long ago when it was raining.
This is England - a promise.
I tell myself - there is a plan.
Just follow through,
be yourself, smile under
this weird constellation and
expect the unexpected,
what you want will happen,
it's just probability
and probability is
always on your side
when you are in Manchester.

a twinkle in my mezzo
is a wrinkle in this forte
where flatulent is an eggplant
but virulent is my phone

that screamed from my soul

as she'd walk in a box of rings
that made me sing her too
With sheet of tears did blanket
Around her bed of posies alas

if heart truss sung to their content  
tonight the hour grew dark in Jodrell Bank
as this virtue of love did radio a Lovell
and sealed my fate in spite of her again