Remeber you're not here to eat
You're here to survive
You're fat I know
And that's alrite

Get on your feet
and do the drill
Since too long
You've been chill

It's now or never
or you'll lose control
So push it my friend
And don't be an *******

You think you know
Where you're headed
Just look around
And you'll dread it

You're not in pain
And you think it's good
Get on your feet
and be worthy of the food

For too long
You went with the flow
It's time now
To rise
Shine
And glow

Outside looking in
Like a redheaded stepchild
Like a dumped cat
Like Belushi on the ladder
Just...*******, alrite?
You hurt me
Lick sweat off my *****

Your eyes are always so crinkled
School must drain you so
Always barely perceiving
They were disheartening with
melancholy in tow
I'll never forget the night I realized
your eyes
No longer creased, no longer apathetic
So round, so alive
In this moment I realized that I
had seen them before
I saw a glimpse today

Maybe it's too much to think that
I made your eyes everything
Everything I needed to be alrite
I kissed your mouth that night
A person like you could be good for me

any holiday can go on and commit suicide in some old ****
coconut
postcard, I reckon.
it’s alrite here.
it’s not burning and the sand is a lame type of concrete, but
it has a lot of life. there’s even coral here, I probably need you
to call me up and have you explain it to me
but it’s here
all the same;
there’s howling monkeys that can open yoking orange suns, that
don’t know what to do, we wont ignore them though;
they keep on skipping around
pulling
the tide up to our seats-like they like the raw smell we give off
its normal in the city but unknown here
we fight- nothing
the world dives into itself
and see’s that it still sings
the resort keeps on beating behind the eyes of the falling sunset
the calls of our skin are catnip to the flying things and moving things
we walk across the beach as it follows from 11 to 3 and 4am.
it dies and leaves the moon screaming
in sirens within the black distance of the shore
the vehicle that comes as we sleep
holds open the road with our eyes
and remains eternally as we wake.

BY ARCASSIN BURNHAM






Through The Trees i will follow,
just lead the way,
and we can see tomorrow,
sorrow,
Tell them pages to turn away,
give me the light,
and ill make you stay,
cause everybody just want somebody to love,
and see that every passing moment was a big mistake,
so everything i said was all to you,
let me show me show you that i love you,
with a song or two,
melody made by me and you,
she said i dont need another,
i'll be your woman,
and i said,were 15 , but lets love like were older,
love me like we're sober,
you were my love drug,
hooked on you like allday,
better than sugar or syrup,
right here ill stay,
kissin your face,
and tell you goodnite,
we can meet any place,
im sure god will say,
you two are alrite,
Tonite,
Through The Trees.

OK, ok alrite m8.
I know I'm too weird
and these tattoos, this face
or this beard.
But what's weird, seems to be inside of me, and seems like it might be just plain wrong.
I'm a male, who doesn't desire fornication foremost. Your friendship and company are what I favour the most. Who better to share a moonlit night with and I boast.
No one!
and I am sharing it with you.

I must apologise for my lack of understanding
of the physicality between us, as all I understand is the mental boundaries of our friendship.
Do I risk this bond for a kiss?

Layered Cake
I’ve known many unsavory characters from my home city of Manchester
There’s the ex-demolition guy who took a great dislike to me
Did he have visions of blowing me up instead of my old car?
He had a trainee apprentice in the wings and had connections

I knew several football hooligans who fought for what?
For England, their home team, themselves, for violence?
Each told me a story of Rah-Rah-Rah Here We Go Lads!
One fought riot cops in Poland and was jailed in a sanatorium
He somehow escaped and was banned from Poland for life
The other was a City fan and battled his opponents in Greece
He was 45 and still loved a good tear up on match days

Drug dealers prominently featured in the city and surrounding towns
One dark night in my home town I saw an ex-dealer shot dead  
I heard then saw the BMW getaway car zoom off
Oddly I thought I heard two gunshots after it had gone
The ex-dealer’s wife asked me to help and I tried to
But there was nothing I could do but call the medics

Chavs are the worst in my town and others
Council House And Violent and ruling the tough estates
With their violence, crime, dealing and other acts
Not going to school or college but sleeping all day
And drinking and smoking **** all night with their underage gals
But when do they have time to do their crimes?

There are the plastic gangsters who think they’re it
Maybe with their mates they can burst a paper bag
Or intimidate innocent law abiding citizens who are meek

Further afield I met a gangster in Liverpool who was alrite
He liked a right tear up and had a job to appear legit
But his real work was in various things like drugs, guns and cash
He offered me a job as a courier because my car was old and gray
I said no for its easy in and never ever out

The English racists were a breed apart who hated all skins
I got on with one who liked metal but we clashed on views
He loathed foreigners and wanted them all out
And insisted that white men stick to white women

Most scary of all I met a killer on the run in Newcastle
We were on the ship disco by the river having fun
This guy had a real flirty wife called Carmen
I danced with her and later talked to her husband
He schitzed out and went mad but not for chatting with his gal
I asked what’s wrong and he admitted to killing a man
And said he didn’t know me from Adam so be quiet!
He was a Londoner and I said you did it for your own reasons
His wife consoled him when he had flashbacks

Ex-servicemen gave me a few problems over the years
I was drinking in my local pub when a para and a marine argued
First with one another and then with me over who was best
They hated the air force and me wearing an Air Force badge
Maybe they needed a war to get their heads blown off?

There were many fighters who lived to fight and cause trouble
Some had a go at me I tried to avoid their skills but heard their stories
Some were nutters but others quite pally and fine lads
There were brawlers, boxers, Martial Artists and more
Near the Mess House pub in Oldham guys die by a single punch

These savory and unsavory characters were the fabric of England
Some I remember and many I forget for right or wrong reasons
Their stories live on here my poem for you to judge

I’ve known many unsavory characters from my home city of Manchester
There’s the ex-demolition guy who took a great dislike to me
Did he have visions of blowing me up instead of my old car?
He had a trainee apprentice in the wings and had connections

I knew several football hooligans who fought for what?
For England, their home team, themselves, for violence?
Each told me a story of Rah-Rah-Rah Here We Go Lads!
One fought riot cops in Poland and was jailed in a sanatorium
He somehow escaped and was banned from Poland for life
The other was a City fan and battled his opponents in Greece
He was 45 and still loved a good tear up on match days

Drug dealers prominently featured in the city and surrounding towns
One dark night in my home town I saw an ex-dealer shot dead  
I heard then saw the BMW getaway car zoom off
Oddly I thought I heard two gunshots after it had gone
The ex-dealer’s wife asked me to help and I tried to
But there was nothing I could do but call the medics

Chavs are the worst in my town and others
Council House And Violent and ruling the tough estates
With their violence, crime, dealing and other acts
Not going to school or college but sleeping all day
And drinking and smoking **** all night with their underage gals
But when do they have time to do their crimes?

There are the plastic gangsters who think they’re it
Maybe with their mates they can burst a paper bag
Or intimidate innocent law abiding citizens who are meek

Further afield I met a gangster in Liverpool who was alrite
He liked a right tear up and had a job to appear legit
But his real work was in various things like drugs, guns and cash
He offered me a job as a courier because my car was old and gray
I said no for its easy in and never ever out

The English racists were a breed apart who hated all skins
I got on with one who liked metal but we clashed on views
He loathed foreigners and wanted them all out
And insisted that white men stick to white women

Most scary of all I met a killer on the run in Newcastle
We were on the ship disco by the river having fun
This guy had a real flirty wife called Carmen
I danced with her and later talked to her husband
He schitzed out and went mad but not for chatting with his gal
I asked what’s wrong and he admitted to killing a man
And said he didn’t know me from Adam so be quiet!
He was a Londoner and I said you did it for your own reasons
His wife consoled him when he had flashbacks

Ex-servicemen gave me a few problems over the years
I was drinking in my local pub when a para and a marine argued
First with one another and then with me over who was best
They hated the air force and me wearing an Air Force badge
Maybe they needed a war to get their heads blown off?

There were many fighters who lived to fight and cause trouble
Some had a go at me I tried to avoid their skills but heard their stories
Some were nutters but others quite pally and fine lads
There were brawlers, boxers, Martial Artists and more
Near the Mess House pub in Oldham guys die by a single punch

These savory and unsavory characters were the fabric of England
Some I remember and many I forget for right or wrong reasons
Their stories live on here my poem for you to judge

simply different
it starts now the missing bits
parts not there from now to before
tho there was something there but what
what was there before?
dysfunctionality
people always complaining
now everything is meant to be fine
the concept of being alrite
just an illusion he adheres to
it sticks to him like glue
he's not felt this way before
new ground emotions and feelings
making it up as he goes along
captured in words and photos
and make believe video
of how a life should be
prefect multimedia family
existing on the computer
and in his head
different than from his heart
there are many things there

It's alrite to say we're to busy
Even our greatest family
Members understood
What it meant
To go somewhere brandnew
To brine in love and burn
With out juice
Failure makes happiness
We try so hard
With concentration
Forgetting how crazy
It was to be mixed around
In life.
Ho2 crazy it was to do something
With out care
To see something nobody else
Saw.
We eat and love
And afterwards if we're lucky
Heart the legacy
The story we took for granted
Individuality
The thought of living
The day to day
Of doing what we did.
We raise ourselves to live
And maybe work hard
To keep the for granted
Things on life support.