"bangers" poems
Back in the day,
When I was a little whipper snapper in Leeds,
We would go “chumping”, as we called it, for firewood,
For weeks and weeks.
Everyone built towering infernos,
Ready for November Fifth:
Bonfire Night.
Some made effigies of the “evil” Guy Fawkes,
Leader of the “Gunpowder Plot”
And stood in the street saying
“Penny for the Guy”.
What a night!
Roaring fire on a chill Winter night,
Those flames burning your face.
A World War Three
Of Fireworks:
Rockets, Catherine Wheels and bangers.
Bangers to scare the girls.
Kids painting pictures in the air
With sparklers.
And best of all,
That yummy gingery Parkin cake:
A taste I cannot put
Into words.
Oh and deep dark
Treacle Toffee,
Jacket potatoes,
Roast chestnuts
And Crunchie-like cinder toffee.
It’s many a year since I went to a bonfire.
Politically correct firework displays
Are more the modern thing.
Seems strange to burn the effigy
Of a man who had the sense
To try to blow parliament up –
Especially a Yorkshire Man.
Ha ha.
But then I read that good
Religious reasons are behind
This bonfire Celebration:
Those flames are orange
After all.
Not wishing to create divisions
Anywhere in the world,
It’s still good to see traditions
Being maintained.
Let those fires and fireworks keep rising,
Constantly emerging from the shadows
Of Halloween.
Paul Butters
© PB 27\10\2018.
Written at the request of Stephen Chapman. “Treacle toffee” added later, with “jacket potatoes” and “cinder toffee” added on 31\10\18. "Roast chestnuts" added 18\11.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 6:35 AM UTC
Pilsner cap switch blade
tie dye and piccolo
greasers and freaks
with platform feet
muscling in
on the bow legged hoofer
tapping
Bursey Hill Tram
Diamond tuft console
mullets n' ****
angels and saints
(unrestrained)
appropriately trimmed
as 3 mile wreaks havoc
on the nickers and
fighters of penn
Bangers and home boys
hookahs and sheiks
hostile geeks
breaking knuckles and jaws
on the caners and skinners
who are locked
and grinding the root
Desert boot foothills
boardwalk jeans
rainbows and sea fairs
and psychedelic dreams
(the platinum queens
jamming it hard
on the jade room floor)
8 tracks
and fender packs
the hottest summer days
psychedelic haze
center hall, graffiti scrawl
(sinister yet refined!)
covering the subtle
yet striking third ****
Brunswick cues
and red man chew
350 blocks
(on a solid Chevy - stock)
monkeys and beatles
and laugh in scenes
pastel dreams
from the long and coveted
velvet scroll
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 12:39 AM UTC
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse
you were opening one's lips so gorgeous and so creamy
greasing me stamen on the unfucked bonk
while the bangers let it rip in the alley
Those were the diseased minds and that was Newfangled York
we were squirting for the wads and the meatballs
and that was gobbled snog for the creamers inside Gloria
centrifugally stiff is thus those of White House Nazis
Ah but you copulated telescopic didn't you basket case
you just acidified your jockstrap on the shoulders of the scrum
you copulated telescopic I never once heard you use sign language
I input you, I don't intake you
I input you, I don't intake you
and all of that balling hard on
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse
you were gorilla—like your ****** *********** was absolute epic
you leaked me again you frocked slap—up old salt
but for me you would **** an unzipping
And shaving your tongue because the creatures lust after us
who are barked at by the Daleks of *** appeal
you Rohypnolled yourself you emitted jet so what?
we are radioactive salvo we shoot full of holes the stride piano
*** one fine morning you copulated telescopic didn't you cocker
you just blunted your extremity on the cattle
you copulated telescopic I never once smelled you emit
I intake you, I don't input you
I intake you, I don't input you
and all of that balling hard on
I don't mean to insinuate that I slobbered over you peanuts
I can't withhold *********** of each crouched ****
I remember you spirt in the Chelsea Flophouse
that's oodles I don't even kick—start you that thick and fast
Mar 29, 2010
Mar 29, 2010 at 3:36 PM UTC
"Why do you box?"
I asked one of the gang bangers I coached at the gym one day.
"To stay out of trouble, I guess," he replied.
And all of a sudden I got kinda mushy over this kid and realized he really was in a
Hard
Place, trying to make the best of a
Bad
Situation.
And I said,
"Listen to me. Don't ever stop boxing.
School, whatever,
Work, whatever,
But whatever you do,
Keep boxing."
He looked at me kind of funny and
He said "why do you box?"
And I said,
"I've been doing this a while now.
Boxing's fixed me up through some
Serious ****
So above everything else, above women and money,
Whatever you do,
Do not
Stop
Boxing."
I'll probably never know if boxing
saves him
like it
saved me.
But I do hope it keeps him out of trouble.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
We doh cur fer fancy werters
Bring us bangers in mashed terters
Gie us pork-pie caressed wi mustard
Rhubarb crumble topped wi custard
If yo’ve got a full day werkin
Black-pudding, eggs, beans and bercon
Un doh keep saying, ‘it’ll do ya no gud!’
We wont loads o’ graerty pud
If yo’me hungry jus the job
A great big hondfull of suetey gob
Grannies rice-puddin wi a gob o’ jam
Branston pickle on hunied-ham
Fish-un-chips wrapped in old newsperper
Ma’s bread puddin, nah that’s the cerper
Un if yo’ve got a babby-sitta
Wash it daen wi Bonks’s bitta
Black-Country fowk doh wont fancy starters
We wont bercon wie grey farters!
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 1:48 PM UTC
Day turns to night, crowds on the road,
Bonfires ignite, bangers explode.
Fireworks fly high, burst in the air
Dogs bark and cry, smoke everywhere.
Chinese lanterns float way on high
Flicker and burn, light up the sky.
Candle-lit pumpkins that terrorise
With wicked grins and evil eyes.
Cobwebs, spiders, vampires and bats
Ghosts and monsters, witches black cats,
Skeletons skulls, crosses, tomb stones
Look wonderful haunting most homes.
Children galore take to the street
Knock on each door, play trick or treat
Costumes vary, monsters and such
Some quite scary, some not so much
Bags big and small, buckets or tins,
Carried by all to keep treats in.
Getting goodies at every door,
Bars and lollies and so much more;
Monkey nuts, gum, fruit and sweets too
Money from some, a coin or two.
Kids excited, loving it all,
Each delighted with their own haul.
Halloween treats like colcannon,
Barmbracks with a ring in each one,
Traditional games for everyone,
Snap apple great Halloween fun.
Scary stories of days gone by,
Horror movies to terrify,
Howls and screams, nervous laughter,
Many bad dreams for weeks after.
There is no other night like Halloween,
People more frightened than they've ever been.
A great occasion for young and old,
Cannot wait for the next one, truth be told.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
I don't want to seem like a barbecue **** but please won't you turn that meat!
If it wasn't bad enough you put it on early that chicken just won't stand the heat
Your confounding the issue by loading on bangers for the dripping fat's sure to ignite
With those flames getting higher and your steaks all on fire, you know you're not doing it right
Black on the outside and pink in the middle, is not how you're supposed to do chicken
And even revamped your bathroom's too cramped, for all of your guests to be sick in
"It's time" you declare, as you pull up a chair "is anyone ready for grub!?"
But with no contemplation, I'll ditch this cremation, I'm ******* off back down the pub!
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
I'm just a young man
trying to discern
why they say
you gain more and more with each and every day
the reality is I'm nothing
and i don't see the light
its why i stay up till 5 am
every single night
Those who work hard will always get their way
I say that's ********
I still try everysingle day.
I don't have an office a desk or a chair
I wear a **** gun and get spit on in my hair
My head is on a swivel
my my hand is on my gun
I wear a vest of Kevlar
and i search for the one
the one who will take my life
I fear its almost done.
Some people tell you if you wai
Then the good will come
have patience man in the meantime
Dude just have some fun
well that ain't too easy smokin' butts from a tray
having no gas and no food its not the easy way.
I'm 30 years old
I don't have a future
my cars a pt crusier
well I'm just a loser
my job isn't great
Im a cop that is for hire
I only deal with liars
While my *** is in the fire.
I want so much more than the hand that life has dealt me
chin up, look straight , hard work
you cannot tell me
I push seventy hours in a week for nearly nothing
at least if i was someone
my life would be worth something
So I'll just go to work in the cold and in the rain
Ill chase down those who cause havoc
those who cause us pain
Ill deal with the insults
the snickers and the laughter
you're admiration and affection
that's not what I am after.
My badge reflects who I am
just like a mirror
a man with little skills
except tactics and terror
a guy who does the hard ****
without even a letter
of appreciation from anyone around me,
they see me daily and they just poke fun at me
I do what I do because I have a calling
to prevent the good folk
from crying, falling and just dying.
I run towards what everyone runs away from.
crackheads bangers and loaded guns.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 4:29 AM UTC
tizzy looped his past: he had looped it and then looped it howevah, whoop to diz
gangstapoetry boosted its duties newly
we simply gs, whose duties include
slowmoflow like snoop, or p, ain't no thang
i create slang in the hate center, last trip i flew thru loops, break dancers and readers
want answers, so we give straight answers
lyrics of fame bangers, one rhyme for eight
don't take chances, tizz stylobate, sunrise
poems born from crime, give it some time
gotta come right, sell it all at one price
my blood cries in rough nights, plagued by
enough of tough stuff, but me ain't a fluff
i bluff and take what's rightfully mine
tizz is frightfully nice, he neva comes twice
coco loco, monica matadora tending
first song jeezy's "poppin" pimpin pimpz
red-blodded hamza comin ova to test me
subtly intimidating, i just call him "habibi"
ice breaker, you feel me, we good, truly
check out jammed jay, pushin designer
hamza on the toilet, yayo, his girl, bunny
snugglin wit jammed jay for real by now
close to my dj area, rubbin *** gainst ****
tina staring camly into her secret intention
i expect something vaguely, forget it, tho
as hamza al-mighty gets back, explodes
he beats up jay, promptly breakin' his nose
jay looks at the blood; pulls out a cudgel
bashin hamza's skull, flesh splinters
hamza strikes back wit em bludgeons
wondaland's red light, serving proudly 24/7
hamza's pack, yousif, said, wassim and mo
ready to battle the enemy of the enemy
lego goon, antwone, bobby butchah, juan
Jun 14, 2021
Jun 14, 2021 at 1:10 AM UTC
Fusing the concepts of diction with the;
roll of a puuuup: ill container
no brainer; the new name
for all,, club bangers
the flocking flamers,
claiming they flow rain sick,
fake **** time to face it
like similes to basic
subject matter could use a face lift
I straight rip, jill jacking me off,
cant touch these bars, leading to E.R.
cough, cough; Hot sauce her eye, then fry
that back side, spliff lit
A big hit; leaves dome split
thoughts. . . drift
To higher places; perceive the cloudy spaces
between the jaded hate spit
peaceful protest; GRAVITY.. replace it
Aliteration altered asinine assumptions
Rhetoric to run with; supplying the dumb-shits
my cognition is "meta" there "fore";
fairest way is hitt'n
Needing a "fix"; I pop "pre"-scription
Sacred living's indifferent; no know's of his vision
Firing blindly; we're inquisitive middlemen
signing contracts binding
booking assurance of purpose
vexing questions perplex the messes
milk spilt are peoples guesses
nose tilt; angling obtuse,
obese, feeding upon, the bottom line
Most zealous of swine;
hideous and hateful, unable, ungrateful
better off as bacon plateful
The line is fine; The shade is grey
I'll ironically state,
suggestions to negate
your fate upon another's baseless psalms
or petty predictions of living on your palms
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC
I am from the battered symbol and
Dolce and Gabbana perfume and
Adam's peanut butter
I am from the honeysuckle vines
Creeping up the pillars and twirl around my ankles
It tasted like exotic spices and smelled like pond water
I am from the blueberry bush
The lavander rushes
Curling softly around my rusted heart shaped wind chime
I am from Christman Eve birthday cakes and
Writing my name in charcoal on cliff faces
From Tom, and Phillip and Gerard Butler
I am from the judges and
The singers
From marshmallow farms and
Watermelon seeds
I am from the Kool Aid Communion and
Stolen animal crackers
I am from Providence and ancient watchtowers
Bangers and Mash and ginger beer
From the crickets, wickens and picket fences
The bright red porcupine
I am from heron beaks and the green shuttered house
With the bow and arrow creek
The plum cherry trees
Young ****** noses
And the note I keep in my pocket to remind me who I am
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
When I was a boy I seen 'em on the streets,
At the clubs, street-corners, places where they'd meet,
Had new shoes....clothes and watches,
Rolls of hundred dollar bills fillin' up they pockets.
Hunna-hunna bills,
Hunter huntin' bills,
Hunna-hunna bills,
Hunting huntin' bills,
Some folks think drug dealing's a game,
And cutting deals, slingin' merck is how you make a claim.
But it 'ain't-never-been-like-that' from the first day...
Mack-grind, tek nine's about gettin' paid!
Hunna-hunna bills,
Hunter huntin' bills,
Hunna-hunna bills,
Hunting huntin' bills,
Loaded-up and cocked, no fear, no doubt,
On a mack-grind and we headed out,
...out to get some bills, hunna-hunna bills,
Yeah we headed out,
...out to get some bills, hunna-hunna bills,
Yeah we headed out,
Hunna-hunna bills,
Hunter huntin' bills,
Hunna-hunna bills,
Hunting huntin' bills,
Crew, mack-grind and we out the door,
Whip-ride, lead-foot petal to the floor,
Guess what? Your crib is where we go...
And son you know, we ain't knockin' on the door.
Hunna-hunna bills,
Hunter huntin' bills,
Hunna-hunna bills,
Hunting huntin' bills,
Hunna-hunna bills,
*Bangers out to ****
Hunna-hunna bills,
Hunting huntin' bills,
Bangers here to kill...over hundred dollar bills.
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
i had a go at cooking tea
bangers and mash was the recipe
i cooked the spuds and began to bash
whipped my spuds in to a hash
everything was going well
when from the oven there came a smell
the sausage i had cooked had been far to long
now had blue smoke and and a smell that was so strong
the sausage they were burnt way beyond repair
i openened up the window to let in some fresh air
i still had my spuds so i ate them on there own
and as for the sausage i left them well alone
Mar 11, 2010
Mar 11, 2010 at 6:44 AM UTC
In the bain marie of life
The boiling,
evaporated
water underneath,
Scolds untrained fingers and hands.
Unscathed are the extremities of workers who serve:
Little Hitlers and Maos,
awaiting to have their egos inflated, and their endowments stroked.
All so they can perpetrate atrocities in a world craving for more, entertainment.
All so they can penetrate their
animosity
towards girls craving for more
containment.
Prepare ingredients in metal tray, made from
Futuristic technology. Erected steel, carved and shaved,
moulded to perfection.
Finesse in
Postmodern civilisation,
Allowing hungry
Delinquent to stuff
cake holes with garbage.
Gruel, bangers, tripe and trotters, spotted **** black pudding, haggis, bulls testicles.
Plastic.
Gum, and wrapper.
Thrown,
in bin.
Mess and stink.
Perforating orifices and permeating nasal passageways.
Kitchen sink,
The end of day arrives
Sanitation process occurs.
The end of shift awaits.
She takes off sweat filled hair cap,
Takes off juice stained chef pants.
Kicks off steel capped boots.
Pulls out
Smelly,
Sock.
Rest in bed,
to awake for new day.
Gravity raises the sun.
Rinse and repeat
bain marie
reheat.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
animal planet:
save the whales, fleshy mortal--
turn on: crucifix.
(c) 2014 jude rigor
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
I am from the battered cymbal and
Dolce and Gabbana perfume and
Adam's peanut butter
I am from the honeysuckle vines
Creeping up the pillars and twirl around my ankles
It tasted like exotic spices and smelled like pond water
I am from the blueberry bush
The lavender rushes
Curling softly around my rusted heart shaped wind chime
I am from Christmas Eve birthday cakes and
Writing my name in charcoal on cliff faces
From Tom, and Phillip and Gerard Butler
I am from the judges and
The singers
From marshmallow farms and
Watermelon seeds
I am from the Kool Aid Communion and
Stolen animal crackers
I am from Providence and ancient watchtowers
Bangers and Mash and ginger beer
From the crickets, wickens and picket fences
The bright red porcupine
I am from heron beaks and the green shuttered house
With the bow and arrow creek
The plum cherry trees
Young ****** noses
And the note I keep in my pocket to remind me who I am
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
Warm toes, cream floating in the coffee
A sweet red apple encased in rich toffee.
Cheesy mashed potatoes and bangers
Cheeky whistles of the old clangers.
The comforting tune to Watch With Mother
The antics they get up to in Big Brother.
The two adorable children in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
The all time favourites that Mary Poppins sang.
Gob Stoppers that used to change colour in the mouth
The warmth of the sun as you travel south.
The cotton wool smoke in Camberwick Green
Rainbows with crushed apricot colours in-between.
Sunsets sunrises who could ask for more
A true gentleman opening the door.
All these things I would not mind doing twice
if not more because they are all things nice.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC
So "innocent". Gang Bangers. Dope Slangers.
BANG BANG goes them thangers.
Shots ring out, but whats it all about?
He said, she said. *** with those ment to be wed.
But is there really a purpose
To continue to diminish our human faces.
And forced to run these racist races.
Races we're run'n
From the kid on the block with a gun 'n
His mind lost in chaos, as he realizes
He's merely a boy caught up in a grown man's play house.
Or what about the little girl
Who the only way of gettin'n money she knows is her pearl.
So she lets her prized possession become John Doe's 30 minute obsession.
For a little bit of cheddar, so she can feel just that much better.
Out with her fast *** friends club'n
Yet little does she know there's a bun in the oven.
Four months in she faces the truth.
She's got a baby with no daddy & *** positive to boot.
With a fist full of tears,
Trying to silence her fears.
She turns unspoken life into a malicious casualty.
Homicide. Suicide. Catastrophe.
Its these kids. Our youth. Generation X
There caught up in these things that school never taught us.
Yet are instilled with these thoughts, that's they're merely a must.
When will we realize that homies in the dirt and RIP shirts,
Are consuming out generation.
Because we're acting without thoughts, and no hesitation.
How long will we let them use our lives as a demonstration?
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
lots of bangs tonight fireworks flying high
bangers. roman candles .rockets light the sky
bonfires all lit up children having fun
eating toffee apples and a burger in a bun.
celebrating guy Fawkes and his deadly plot
one day in November we have not forgot
each and every year we recall his name
now an effigy that we set a flame
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
Mum was never happier
Than when supping tea with friends
Sharing well worn wisdom
Seen through a mother's lens
I can't deny I was a teary child
And when mum heard me sobbing
She'd make dash, be there in a flash
And smother me with hugging
Mum'd appear when needed most
She had a mother's sonar
A way of sensing where and when
We would really need her
Mum had a knack of persuading dad
That it really would be best
To not shout, to let me be
And let me stay half dressed
Mum would know where to find me
When it was time for tea
And it was worth being found
Not staying an absentee
Fish fingers at least once a week
Followed by artic roll
Bangers and mash, bubble and sqweak
Don't expect a finger bowl
Mum made each birthday special
She knew how to stretch the budget
She'd sit each month with my dad
And work out how to fudge it
I wouldn't be this man today
If it wasn't for my mum
Her care and warmth, her smile and love
Gave me my foundation
So this mother's day let me say
If your mum is still around
Make sure she knows down to her toes
Just how much she's loved.
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
Eye sockets full of empty grasping hands. Penniless teletext marketers twinkling down bangers the lost boys cry. Be okay. Juicy covers, labeled lets do this again.
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 11:20 PM UTC
and all this useless unnecessary suffering!
???
and we the wise and the compassionate
the gentleness combined with strength
power and understanding
.......
we forgive those who have wronged us
but we do not let them keeping doing the wrong
to us or to others
............
we stand for the truth
especially when it is something
of which we know all too well
.......
the future is coming filled
with innocent creatures amid
the gang bangers every where
Aug 18, 2011
Aug 18, 2011 at 4:51 PM UTC
"buy him a dog, shut him up"
Will a Malamute make Matty mute?
**** no
he'll write a tell-all with Brad Renfro
burn bridges and **** kin-folk
say, **** all y'all, then"
spread violence with silence
breathing through eyelids
going off on tirades inside his head
he's a little out there
but don't despair
he wears clean underwear
opens doors for strangers
dismisses all dangers
talks **** to gang bangers
so, **** You and your 84 IQ
and know this much is true:
you don't have a clue 'bout the distance 'tween he and you
buy him a dog
shut him up
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
Trapped in a 90's british pub
with a wide open tab,
for the duration of eternity.
Curry chips, and curly wirly's,
and pint, after pint, after pint.
Karaoke, and loose bints,
bangers and mash,
bang her in the loo, and a dash of bitters
in my scotch and soda.
MORTAL KOMBAT!!!!!
Too.
Chain smoking ****
that Cannot Cause Cancer,
and slamming my stick
on the Snooker table.
Where did you come from?
Where did you go?
Where did you come from?
Cotton-Eyed Joe.
Where's my friggin' Thai food!?
Look into my Magic Eye
and you will see Heaven.
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC