Ommmmmmmm
Rest In Peace miles Blackburn
Ommmmmmmm
You were a blessing to have around
Ommmmmmmm
I liked being your bowling buddy
Ommmmmmmm
We used to get good scores together
Ommmmmmmm
I remember him saying to me
GO THE SWANS
When Adams Goodes was playing
And when they were actually good
Ommmmmmmm
You will be sadly missed miles Blackburn
Ommmmmmmm
I remember when I was watching my Itouch in bed and he hated it
Cause he wanted to sleep
I thought you were hating me
Ommmmmmmm
But I know now you were a great friend to have around
Ommmmmmmm
Please moles Blackburn
Think of us
As you enter your next life
I liked you mikes Blackburn
And I as Cronus will help give
You a great family for your next life
Ommmmmmmm
Ommmmmmmm
Ommmmmmmm
Farewell miles Blackburn
Have a good future life
And be blessed
R I P

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I'm on the outskirts of hope looking in;
my hand strangling the head of a lantern.
Liquid wax bubbles into descent.
Midnight rain in 1782 Blackburn.
The breath of a behemoth breaks wind.
It reaches past distance and into my skin.

Mostly unfinished and
unpolished are these
works in the process of progress.

poetry's like **** when you're up to your neck in it
I stick my neck out to
go out on a limb.

Frequently
the sequence,
if eventuality is sequenced
silences me
which is another poetry, but
I don't mime all the time.

Eventually
I will become
more than a sequence
and consequently
less of a rhyme
less mime
and always
less than I think
there is of time,

I'm almost at the deep end
but
still paddling in the shallows
mostly unfinished
and Blackburn
is too.

Is it the culture of vultures or the vultures of culture that carries us away?
dress down or if you want to impress, don't dress at all,
a place guaranteed in the hall of fame,
name?
no worry,
we'll jiffy one for you in a squid's arm or two which is shorthand for quite very soon.


If the TV don't get you the radio will, one or the other will interrogate you
'til you crack and you'll go out and buy the latest rack for the records you no longer own,
an Englishman's home is his own Barbara Castle but that was forever ago and lots of John Snow have flowed under the bridges since then,
Why,
I remember when beer was only two and ten and for those of you who don't know that's 2/10p in slow mo'.

eat drink, be merry
I shall,
with my feet on the pouffe  and an old trusty pipe, have a small tot of sherry,
the culture
the vulture
my life.

Your standing there
in tattered Lucky jeans
with sweat-drenched hair.

You have my scratches
dancing down your chest
under sacrilegious rosary beads.

Our eyes are waltzing
as you set your cigarette,
and my want, on fire.

Because you know
our infatuation comes
from smoke and lust
Compounding.

Your too damd hot to touch.

So come slow your heart rate down with me,
and let the cold water give you chills.

Sorry guys, this one is about football (soccer) and its effect on the current climate in England. Won't make much sense if you don't know about that, but have a read anyway and make what you will of it

Leather boot to leather ball
(Or more accurately
Leather/synthetic polymer boot to polyester/cotton blend with rubber inner ball)
Put said ball in the opposition goal
But ... that's not all...
It's a safe place for grown men to emotionally connect,
Without fear of losing another mans respect,
Or dealing with issues that we're trying to deflect.
It's how I connect-ed with my Dad,
When I was a shy and nervous lad,
And Blackburn Rovers weren't just really, really bad.
So... Me and my oldest discussed the best team England had
And the younger 2 waved the flag
That Hazel made at school;
Full of pride;
An England flag that looked like a Union Jack.

                          "We're back!"
Listening to the popular pre match pontification of pointless ex professionals,
And on Twitter and Facebook and in the papers and in the chants...
                   ... One thing is clear...

"50 years of hurt never stopped US dreaming!"
"This isn't about life and death, it's much more than that ...
"This is about national pride...
"Brexit!
"11 lads to show Europe that Britain is still Great"
By Britain... We mean England...
By England ...we mean our England...
"Born and bred me!"
By our England ...we mean ...
"Close the borders!
Turn back the ****** immigrants!
And **** Jonny Foreigner!"

Coz England... Is about to 'kick off'

A black man falls to the ground crushed by some foreigner
A pug ugly **** steps up

Rooooonnnnneyyyyyy!!!

England is great!
England is mighty!
We don't need Europe!
The sun never sets on OUR empire!
Coz we are the Greates...

****!

How can Iceland score?
How can little Iceland score?
How can ****** little Iceland score against mighty England?!?!?

It's a fluke.
We'll come back into it
We'll come back...
Into..

****!

How are we losing to Iceland?!?
And on
And on
And on

Until the end - 2:1

Sleepy heads lay down in bed
As grown ups pick their world to shreds
Self respect hangs by a thread
On buses making racist threats
As plastic pundits and armchair politicians
Vent their hate on Facebook

"When we won the World Cup in '66 it was because they had the passion and desire to succeed, not the money. They'll all go home to their posh houses and cars whilst we all give 100% just to put food on the table. There are too many foreign players in the premier league getting paid crazy amounts so the English talent is overseen. Until the FA step in and limit foreigners to 2or3 per team then we will always under achieve, cos we don't have the players to choose from."

Foreigners are to blame
Their foreign money
And their foreign players
****** foreigners

It's not the pressure of a green and once pleasant land?
Placed with green and jealous hands
On the shoulders of the greenest lads
Who were only on the green of that field
To kick a not leather ball with a not leather boot
For their country (and maybe for their Dad)?

I don't have the answers, but I ask myself, in another 50 years, what will we dream of?

Marcus Rashford played well though didn't he?!

We're off to Never never land - Paracetamol, cucumber sandwiches and the lost rent boy

Gav called me up.
Him and Tolly were going out to Never Never Land in Blackburn
3 lost boys off on a curious adventure

Mi mum dropped me off at Gavs 'ouse ont' Shad estate
Gav got us a coke before we caught t' buz in
But 'e sprinkled in some white pewder
"What's this? Pixie dust?"
"It's summat to gi' you Speed" said Tolly
"just drink it!" Said Gav
So I did

"2nd Star t' t' reet and straight on t' t' moornin'!"

But we'd bin sold crushed paracetamol

So we just acted like we were ****** and lied to each other about ow buzzin wi were
But we weren't buzzin
Then we caught buz in
Waitin' for t' affects o' t' artificial amphetamine t' kick in
'N' we got t' Neverland
No mermaids 'ere
No pretty ***** girls
There were a few blokes wi dodgy eyes n limps
But no no, no-n-no no, no-n-no no no no there's no pirates!
Just ****** plastic Palm trees
'N' townies in fluorescent nylon shirts
No peacock feathered hats ere
Just steps n curtains n aggressive faces
'N' me wi' a bowl cut and trepidation
Tryin' t' think happy thoughts

Surrounded bi freebooters, piccaroons, Buccaneers, filibusters and Rovers
Wi' their left foot, right foot dancing
And an eye on t' maidens
Sneering in our direction
Lost boys
That 'aven't grown up

I sort o' skirted round edges feelin' scared
Then went to sit at sides on an empty table 'n' hid

On t' next table were a nice lookin' couple o' blokes.
They must o' bin good mates!
They were cuddlin' 'n' touchin' each other a lot.
Anyhow, thi got talking t' mi
Told 'em I'd not bin out before
"Ow old are you lad? 14/15?"
"I'm 18"
Thi sort o' laughed, dunno why
Then one of 'em offered me a cucumber sandwich
I thought t' mi sel'
"I dunno much about nightclubs but I dunt think folk normally bring cucumber sandwiches!"
But I were 'ungry so I ate it
Then I think 'e thought we were mates coz 'e were touchin mi leg
I 'ad to crow for Gav an' Tolly
They came in like Peter Pan and rescued mi and I set off for 'ome

I went to t' phone box n' called mi mum
Didn't know town reet well
So I waited for 'er outside o' mi old school
There were some scary lookin people on one side o't' road snappin at each other like crocodiles
So I stood under t' lamppost so I were int' leet an' t' cars passin could see mi
Felt safer like that
Time passed
Tick tock tick tock
T' crocodiles were lurkin
Each time a car passed I stepped out a bit
To look for mi mum
Drivers kept lookin at mi nervously n drivin off
Maybe thi thought I were a crocodile too
N they kept smirking at mi
Then some officers pulled up like privateers in their blue and white flashin galleon
Made us stand again t' wall as I asked for parle
'N' thi searched mi for treasure
Asked us if I pulled into port for rentin
"Rentin' what? I'm Waitin for mi mum."
"Aye cap'n! Hahaha! I'm sure you are! Dressed in tight little hot pants!"
"These aren't 'ot pants, they're chinos?!"
Then mi mum turned up an said "oh aye! This streets t' red light district!"
"Well ****** me!"

Never, never again... Until uni happened

I wish I had never met ***** ******* mama's boys like Michael Czech and Peter Pans and cheaters like Robert Littlejohn. They prey on innocent women via http://facebook.com and put on pretend face and hurt innocent women who fall them like Elizabeth Stewart Gandy, Emily Warner, and Laura Blackburn. Michael Czech is awould be poet and  Robert Littlejohn a would be musician with an impossible dream in Nashville.  Check out http://linkedin.com/Robert Littlejohn and see for yourself.

Gav called me up.
Him and Tolly were going out to Never Never Land in Blackburn
3 lost boys off on a curious adventure

All I wanted to do were stay in and play Championship manager and drink Ribena.
I were a slow starter int' drinkin' scene
Mi mum and dad had bought us a tiny bot'le o' mead once on 'oliday
Took mi about 2/3 years to drink it
Another time I had 2 or 3 cans at Gavs
Blacked out
Set off t' t' taxi wi'out mi shoes on
"2nd Star t' t' reet and straight on t' t' moornin'!"
Then puked out o' t' taxi windo'

But I went
Mi mum dropped me off at Gavs 'ouse ont' Shad estate
Gav got us a coke before we caught t' bus in
But 'e sprinkled in some white pewder
"What's this? Pixie dust?"
"It's something to give you Speed" said Tolly
"just drink it!" Said Gav

(At this point in this poem, it's starting to sound like I were on the verge of some cool, coming of age experience. But Gav were only a naive little lad and it turned out he'd been sold crushed paracetamol)

So we caught bus
Waitin' for t' affects o' t' artificial amphetamine
'N' we got t' Neverland
No mermaids 'ere
No pretty ***** girls
There were a few blokes wi dodgy eyes
But no no, no-n-no no, no-n-no no no no there's no pirates!
Just ****** plastic Palm trees
'N' townies in fluorescent nylon shirts
No peacock feathered hats ere
There hair were all steps or curtains
(I was sporting a rather fetching home cut hair style wi no gel and my neatly ironed school shirt with the top button fastened)

Didn't kno' what to do about this weird scenario
T' girls and t' boys weren't stood on opposite sides at this party
They were all in t' t' middle
****** loads on 'em
And they were doing some sort o' side stepping thing that I found later were called dancin'
I sort o' skirted round edges feelin' scared
Then went to sit at sides on an empty table 'n' hid

On t' next table were a nice lookin' couple o' blokes.
They must o' bin good mates!
They were cuddlin' 'n' touchin' each other a lot.
Anyhow, thi got talking t' mi
Told 'em I'd not bin out before
"Ow old are you lad? 14/15?"
"I'm 18"
Thi sort o' laughed, dunno why
Then one of 'em offered me a cucumber sandwich
I thought t' mi sel'
"I dunno much about nightclubs but I dunt think folk normally bring cucumber sandwiches!"
But I were 'ungry so I ate it
Then I think 'e thought we were mates coz 'e were touchin mi leg
I 'ad to crow for me mates
Then Gav came in like Peter Pan and rescued mi and we set off for 'ome

I went to t' phone box n' called mi mum
Didn't know town reet well
So I waited for 'er outside o' mi school
There were some scary looking people on one side o't' road snappin at each other like crocodiles
So I stood under t' lamppost so I were int' light an' t' cars passin could see mi
Felt safer like that
Tick tock tick tock
The crocodiles were lurkin
Each time a car passed I stepped out a bit
To look for mi mum
Drivers kept lookin at mi nervously and drivin off
Maybe thi thought I were a crocodile too
But they also kept smirking at mi
Then some cops pulled up
Made us stand again t' wall
'N' searched mi
Asked us if I were rentin
"Rentin' what? I'm Waitin for mi mum."
"Aye cap'n Hahaha I'm sure you are! Dressed in your tight little hot pants!"
"These aren't 'ot pants, they're chinos?!"
Then mi mum turned up an said "oh aye! This streets t' red light district!"
"Well ****** me!"

Never, never again... Until uni happened

My friends a pizza cowboy
My uncles a interpreter
For the grainery
My cousin lives inside
Dry mouths
and my mother
Makes fake smiles
my other cousin
sticks his pruned up
Hands in rivers of unwanted
pasta
My father makes sure
Boats do not go gently
Against the stolen tides.
I think of the underdogs
Whenever were all together
We sit on the same green couches
Durring the holidays.
The same ones that tell us
No matter what happens
Were going to be ok.  We sink
And recline in the coushins
And forget about
Nine to five for a few honest hours.  
While we drink and eat and lauph
Underneath the same old popcorn celings.
The same living room
Where every thing happening now
never went unoticed because
Ireland found England after
The bombs after the soccer game
Where she said (after the game)
"I want nothing to do with that *******"
Are you sure about that grandma.
Better stay away from uncle george (the keeper)
He wants you to meet his friend (the forward)
Who played for the Blackburn rovers.

(For my old mate Kevin Blackburn)

Bentonite is magic
When mixed in slurry form,
And injected into apertures
Where earth worms are the norm.
The slurry forms a barrier
Which holds the concrete, wet,
Quite apart from earthen surfaces
To give exactly what you get.

YOU GET NO CONTAMINATION
YOU GET CONCRETE DRYING CLEAN
YOU GET SMOOTH GREYISH SURFACES
WHICH COULD BE PARCELED TO THE QUEEN!

So when constructing tunnels
Or massive footings bare
Or reinforced deep piling
Which extends way down to there,
You MUST pour in the Bentonite
In slippery, slurry form
To keep the concrete looking
Sparkling clean, as is the norm.

Then....
YOU GET NO CONTAMINATION
YOU GET CONCRETE NICE AND CLEAN
YOU GET BEAUTIFUL GREY SURFACES
SHINING BRIGHTLY FOR THE QUEEN!

Marshalg
Lurking near the Bentonite tanks
Victoria Park Tunnel
15 June 2011

I often rode my bike there
the closest store
in Nankin Mills, Michigan,
a staple for penny candy and
whiffle *****.

A  month into the summer me
and my best friend, Craig Hewitt,
who lived four doors down
mounted  our one-speed Schwinn's
and decided to pull our first heist.

The ride was a turn right then left around
a curve out to the four-lane Joy Road,
and we rode determinedly. Four blocks on the right
was the small shopping place
a grocery store and
a Ben Franklin's Five and Dime.

We hitched our Schwinn's in the bike rack,
located near the entrance and studied. Thought of possible quick escape routes.  Excitement flowed, I wanted a quarter piece of chocolate and Craig had his lust on a Matchbox car his unfeeling parents refused to purchase.

I checked my holster the Roy Rogers shiny six-shooter
was at the ready. We sauntered in. Walking tall but shaking in my pretend boots, which were actually Ked's.
My friend was so brave he barely looked nervous.
I followed his lead.

We were in there two minutes pocketed the loot and walked out sure we had made a clean escape. Our Schwinn's had barely moved when two arms grabbed us. "Hey boys!" We were apprehended.
We gave full confessions to the Principal looking
old lady interrogating us. They called our moms.

They let us go.Craig had wet his pants and I had squished
hell out of the chocolate candy. We left not wanting to go home.
Pondering what state might take two refugees with records.
I imagined walking the rails with a stick and a handkerchief
tied on its end full of my marbles a pair of socks
the remains of my Halloween candy in.

We went to a field near our school playground and fidgeted and talked and rued and scratched the dirt with the toes of our Ked's
and tried to think how we could explain or make an excuse or
go back a day. It was getting dark.  The night on the run was more scary to both of us than our moms.

When I entered the house there at 8587 Blackburn, a white brick
normal house, now so scary with danger pain foreboding out every window and door, it was my bravest act to this day, expecting screaming a scene a beating my mother towering over
asking "what were you thinking?"

Yet nothing happened. my oldest sister, 14 at the time sat grinning
on the couch watching tv. And Mom was in her apron by the stove like every other day. As I walked by my sister said "I was the mom today.
You owe me a kiss". I hated to but I nearly kissed her every day for a
week.

Craig got his *** whipped.

If I was home in bed with one ear on the radio and one eye watching where you go and what you do,
would you be too?
Would you come lay and listen to the radio,just me and you and Tony Blackburn?
We could turn him off,tune into another station and you could sink into the pillow of my adoration.
If I was laying in my bed would you be too?

For me,
hope is a Friday afternoon at 3:30,
leaving 25th on White Blvd,
unloading the air compressor,
putting back the last "tear off" shovel,
hoisting my *** on the black lawn chair,
in the shop of Blackburn Roofing,
examining the stench of J.W. Craft,
forcing itself upon me,
waiting for my uncle to arrive with my paycheck.

I’m tired I wanna go to bed
And cuddle my beautiful beautiful Ted
I take my meds
And Athena sends me up to outer space
So she can work on my legs
And help my toes
In bed for friends fighting the foes
I am tired I wanna go to bed
And cuddle my beautiful wonderful adorable Ted
I am very tired very very tired
I might have another yawn
Have another yawn
Ahhhhhhh ahhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhh
I meet my dad and Aunty Pam
They are sitting there eating strawberry jam
I see uncle Dennis and Aunty daphne
I also see uncle Stan  and granny and nanny
The medication is pushing me
To be nice to family
Which is fine but I have my own interests
I want to go to bed
And cuddle my Ted
And see my friends miles Blackburn
And Steven Papps and Nicholas roots
I want to talk about bowling back then
But I don’t do it anymore I am just too tired
I am tired I wanna go to bed
And cuddle my beautiful wonderful lovely ted
Make me feel comfy in my comfy comfy bed
I might have another yawn
I might have another yawn
Just for you my cool little dude
I fly around in outer space
Drinking smoothies as I go
One planer is as hot as hell
One planet is plainly just snow
I have spoken to Johnny cash
Who told me he is sonny French
And spoken with slim dusty
Who is Hayley Leblanc
I was jamming with them
Making me feel too tired for normality
On planet earth
But I am tired I wanna go to bed
Cuddling each teddy bear that I own

-  it was as if we were dressed in shmattes,
hungry and broken,
sometimes from pain, other times from joy,
so hungry
that we began to must each other's blood
scratching our tongues with tufts of straw,
as if we cleaned our impenetrable
like you would  clean the blackburn from the bottom of a shepherd's cauldron,

- we were also surrounded by fire pits,
the tongues of the flames touched you as if they tasted pink salt,
as sheep do it in the winter,
I could see haystacks burning in your eyes,
people lined up with buckets of water
they handed the buckets from hand to hand to  extinguish the fire,
some white birds were drinking the blood from  your lips,

- then the tongues of fire fled from the waters and harnessed  my eyes
they whipped at them,
shouts, screams, cries, children's laughter,
whinny horses, spreading sounds
until we woke up built-in two shores that were sinking at the bottom of the water.

(This can be sung to the melody of "The Ballad of Davy Crockett," by Tom Blackburn and George E. Bruns.)

All you have to do is show you are a fan
Of Donald J. Trump, and of course you can
Rewrite our history if that's your plan,
While tossing all the facts into the garbage can.
Ashli--Ashli Babbitt--out for a dangerous thrill.

It's too bad her life had to end that way.
But why storm the Capitol that shameful day?
How did she ever get caught up in the fray?
She listened to Trump. What else is there to say?
Ashli--Ashli Babbitt--killed on Capitol Hill.

The members of Congress were terrified.
They had to find a place where they could all hide.
The Speaker's Lobby was where Babbitt tried
To enter but was shot before she got inside.
Ashli--Ashli Babbitt--caught in the undertow.

Breaking in and entering was not very smart.
Incited by her president, she chose to take part
In the insurrection. Watch him kick start
A movement to reward her with a purple heart.
Ashli--Ashli Babbitt--oh, what a tale of woe!

Some want to crucify the cop who shot her,
Saying what he did was nothing short of slaughter.
But look where Babbitt's crazy actions brought her.
Recognizing lies is what someone should’ve taught her.
Ashli--Ashli Babbitt--fell for the president's lie.

Some Trump's supporters are so inclined
To try to persuade his base to be aligned
In making her a martyr, but when will they find
That their cult leader's completely lost his mind?
Ashli--Ashli Babbitt--what a strange way to die.

I think that most of us will have to agree
That you don't have to be a genius to be
Appalled by such attacks on our democracy.
There are consequences. That's a guarantee.
Ashli--Ashli Babbitt--all we can ask is "Why?"

-by Bob B (7-13-21)

the hardest part of wanting is time,
unreliable silences to awkward constancy,
yearning for answers to questions unasked,
only an hour past 4am at Blackburn bar.
better not to know anything, i keep my eyes closed
holding onto cheek kisses in bed, or your pockets
where you say i can live in?
i've built homes and careers out of conscious decisions,
but most relationships out of my ***.
the hardest part of wanting, is wanting at all.