"buggered" poems
Infuriated doesn't come close when listening to the words you spout
You are so special in every way I could feel the need, I had to say
If you don't go away I'll strangle you with your mum's **** beads
Now where that came from left me at a loss, but he shut up and buggered off.
Probably gone home to check what else his mum has hidden under her bed!
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 9:59 AM UTC
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
The nose is holy! The tongue and **** and hand
and ******* holy!
Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an
angel!
The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is
holy as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is
holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy
Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas-
sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering
beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the *****
of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop
apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana
hipsters peace & junk & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy
the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the
mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the
middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell-
ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria &
Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow
Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the
clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy
the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the
locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina-
tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the
abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours!
bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent
kindness of the soul!
Berkeley 1955
4.3k
There was a vicar from Fife
Who never took a wife
Instead he toyed
With a choir boy
And buggered him up for life
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
Who?
...
What are the choices?
----
None
---
---
Christ the hobo the freight train
The buggered boy the ****** ***
The boy in the basement video games
The blind man's bluff the the walking lame
---
Who?
.
Why you ask?
--
I don't know what else can I say?
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
Listen son
It’s al ‘right to feel
It’s OK to cry
It’s even acceptable to not be perfect
In everything you try
Failure can be positive
If bent another way
A kind of subtle back-burn before
The fire of success comes your way
Its not the end of everything, but the
Beginning of something new
It’s probably the way you see it
Is the shape that comes to view
A mountain so enormous
Never seeming to be climbed
Until you’ve done some treading
Most likely one foot at a time
Some day you get right up there
You’re laughing with the clouds
And at some stage you lose your grip again
Falling all the way back down
So you pick yourself right up
Spit gravel from your mouth
And head to other climates
I’m recommending south
On the way you meet a few kind souls
Perhaps a little wiser than yourself
Some who might begin to question
The state of your mental health
But don’t despair; it’s all good stuff
The journey, the quest, the sport,
Some days you’ll go a long way
On others you’ll pull up short
Just keep going that’s the main thing,
I’m buggered if I know where, cause’
Eventually south goes north
And every other where
Keep treading, keep smiling,
Don’t forget to breathe
It’s important to enjoy yourself
And keep something up your sleeve
It isn’t easy, this I know,
When some old ****** gives advice
You think he’s a little crazy and
He don’t talk so very nice
You’re probably right, he might be mad,
But the thing about this is,
It’s better to keep asking questions
Than be sitting in a tizz
Complain or question or kick or scratch
The ticket is the train you catch
The one for somewhere, the one that goes
Not sitting at the station and picking at your nose
Get on board
Live a life
Have some fun and
Cause a bit o’ strife, now
I’m sorry I can’t say more than this
But I reckon you know why; it’s
Coz you’ve got a good long life to lead
And I’m about to die.
MChallis @ 1999/2014
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
Right.
So I did my ankle in on Friday.
****
Thought I'd see how I was to drive by nipping to work and back.
Ok. So far so good.
The tyre pops.
****
But I get there.
Ok - it's cool - change the tyre:
Spare wheel? Check
Jack? Check
Security socket? Check
Tyre iron? No.
No?!
****
So.
Now stranded outside work with a buggered ankle, a popped tyre and without a very important tool to change the wheel.
And for some reason nobody else seems to keep that vital piece of equipment in their boot either.
****
Anyway.
As Lady Luck would have it (in her mysterious way), a chance encounter ended with a lift home.
WOOHOOO!
I will return tomorrow fully prepared.
With luck I won't get a ticket sitting on a double yellow all night.
Hold on.
Luck?
Luck?!
What?!
Dear Lady Luck,
Make up your mind.
Please.
Yours,
Joe Haydon
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
everybody’s angel bodies
find happening midnight
on Kansas pavements
hipsters’ motherwords are wholely robed by time
instant everything is ordinary
buggered city immortals --
annoyed, parentless, marijuana everymans
swiftly digging unknown eternity
groaning strange in the long mysterious night
roaring, vibrating kindness
from their holy tongues
blazing inner hideous human gold
draining ***** forever
draining everything
forever -
Moloch, Buddha, Abyss
Reduce, Reuse, Recycle
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:07 AM UTC
A doctor who lost his dear wife
Took to probing the secrets of life
His intention was pure
Though success premature
Lead him quickly to trouble and strife
The notion popped into his head
To dig up the recently dead
With his stitching and knife
He created a life
Which promptly absconded and fled
He looked like the worst of mankind
But was blessed with a brilliant mind
He lurked in the wood
For as long as he could
But he yearned for the touch of his kind
To the doctor he went to proclaim
That his plight was of Frankenstein's blame
And he said he'd begin
To **** off his kin
Unless Frankenstein made him a dame
So the doctor stole bodies and stitched
With a frenzy, the man was bewitched
For his son would be saved
Once this woman, de-graved
Was alive and the monster was hitched
But a face at the window appeared
As his second success was neared
The creature was grinning
His eyeballs were spinning
In his trousers, a cobra had reared
So the doctor was filled up with guilt
And he tore up the woman he'd built
So the very next day
In a horrible way
His son was all strangled and kill't
The doctor pursued his creation
Across countries with growing frustration
He went for a stroll
In the southern most pole
A long way off from civilization
The going was chilly and slow
But he finally caught up his foe
The creature was greater
He killed his creator
And buggered off into the snow
The End
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
Spider web crick-cracks on eggshell skin
Raggedy Ann rag doll made of porcelain
Second-hand bruises, scratches, scuffs, and knicks
In the healing shields of my hands, quick enough to fix
Super glue and elbow grease I knew would save the day
So full of good intentions, I carried her away
The best laid plans of mice and men, all buggered by my feet
The jingly song of transience played out on cold concrete
A mindless second's trip-up, the crystal princess killed
Her splintered features looked up, haunt my memory still
Lips forever frozen, screaming "Please, no more!"
In kaleidoscopic pieces scattered on the floor
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
A doctor who lost his dear wife
Took to probing the secrets of life
His intention was pure
Though success premature
Lead him quickly to trouble and strife
The notion popped into his head
To dig up the recently dead
With his stitching and knife
He created a life
Which promptly absconded and fled
He looked like the worst of mankind
But was blessed with a brilliant mind
He lurked in the wood
For as long as he could
But he yearned for the touch of his kind
To the doctor he went to proclaim
That his plight was of Frankenstein's blame
And he said he'd begin
To **** off his kin
Unless Frankenstein made him a dame
So the doctor stole bodies and stitched
With a frenzy, the man was bewitched
For his son would be saved
Once this woman, de-graved
Was alive and the monster was hitched
But a face at the window appeared
As his second success was neared
The creature was grinning
His eyeballs were spinning
He dribbled and lustfully leered
So the doctor was filled up with guilt
And he tore up the woman he'd built
So the very next day
In a horrible way
His son was all strangled and kill't
The doctor pursued his creation
Across countries with growing frustration
He went for a stroll
In the southern most pole
A long way off from civilization
The going was chilly and slow
But he finally caught up his foe
The creature was greater
He killed his creator
And buggered off into the snow
The End
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC
Her seventh suicide,
attempts failed, saved,
the last by that medic
with the beard like Christ.
Thin sharp blade
against forearm,
the fingers shaking,
the eyes focused,
the voice of some French singer
in the background,
the red line,
the spurt of blood,
the walls, the bath,
splattered.
Seventh time lucky,
the water warm,
the water reddening,
the body becoming cold,
tired
she closes
her eyes,
is this how one dies?
Mother’s demise
with the cancerous crab
******** into her brain
and ******* up to pain.
She thinks on,
the French song
on the hifi
low, darkening.
That medic
brought her back
last time,
like some Lazarus,
back from the dark,
the unknown light,
the long night.
Seventh suicide,
attempts made,
unsuccessful,
buggered up,
teetering on the edge,
that time balanced
on the high office ledge
and that cop
with the Al Pacino look,
talked her in,
failed again.
Outside another day,
sound of pitter patter,
sound of rain.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
It was sports day
at high school
and the field and tracks
were crowded with
teachers and kids
and the sun was out
causing sweat
and heat rash
and Reynard said to you
that girl who fancies your ***
is waving to you
over by the small wood
of trees and bushes
so you looked over
and saw Christina
waving a hand at you
leaping up and down
her short gym skirt
rising and falling
as she leaped
showing off
now and then
her dark green *******
mind she don’t eat you
Reynard said
and walked off
to watch the races
as you wandered over
to where she stood
at the edge
of the small wood
don’t you look
the **** beast
in your black shorts
she said
eyeing you over
her right hand smoothing
down your white tee shirt
are you running?
she asked
yes a short sprint
you replied
anything more than that
and I’m buggered
she looked at the field
holding her hands
in front of her
and you gazed
at her white legs
and white ankle socks
and black plimsolls
I’m in the relay race
she said
I‘ll have to watch
to see when my turn comes
then she turned to you
and said
have you been inside the wood?
you looked behind you
no not so far have you?
yes we went there
in science looking for bugs
and such
she said
maybe you could show me
you said
what?
bugs and flowers
and butterflies
you replied
she smiled at you
maybe but teachers might be watching
or other kids or prefects
and what if my brother Cedric
sees us enter
and tells my parents?
just a science tour
to see all nature’s gifts
you said
tell them that
if any see us go
and you watched her
fumble with her fingers
looking around the field
and whispered softly
no.
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 3:28 PM UTC
When Cameron came to Stratford
he came in disguise,
afraid of the eyes accusing him,
he stood in the stadium
like an Athenian,
but we saw through his games
and Olympiad flames,
when Cameron came to Stratford
we buggered off to Crewe.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
Neocons— like bees,
Puritan values in hives,
So many good drones.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 2:52 AM UTC
*TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.*
W.B.Yeats
In a time such as this, in darkening days
Without screeching witches
Frightened banshees, buggered old men
Searching for solace, eyes streaming with icicle-lust-
Gangrene facebook: torn-up, shredded twitter
The cries of the disconnected,
Wailing!
Wailing!
In a time like this, in darkening days,
The disconnections come in waves!
Searching for reason amongst the unreasoning,
Hunting for sanity within the insane,
Identifying the dead from amongst the living.
Wailing!
Wailing!
Email excreting venom
Internet exfoliating lies-politicians wrapped
In deceit-
A cold time of it, a wretched time of it.
Only within our hearts does hope lie.
Only there
Away from conflict and disorder
Away
From the capricious cacophony of biased debate.
Wailing!
Wailing!
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
Ah, youth, were hast thou fled?
It seems to me only yesterday that
I was dodging the draft in WWII.
Where was I?
Oh, yeah. Someone's buggered off with
My false teeth.
It's that f*cking cat again.
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
I didn't mean to
Didn't want to do this
Maybe
I just wanted to know
Maybe I can't stop
Do you know what it's like?
To play second fiddle
To another
But not first for love
The one of your life
They keep saying
There will be another
Another, when it took
All my life
Just to find the one?
How can that be?
Buggered imagination
I found her pictures
Found her darkest desires
What she asked for
Begging on her knees
Sexually, not me
Beautiful dark long haired
******* herself for my man
Everything I'm not
Things she wants
Sensually, aggressive
***** little *****
Destroyed all my dreams
Look at her pictures
Venerable, shy; all a lie
She cries about cages
Freedoms, chains and sins
But she wouldn't do for hers
What she would do for mine
I just don't know, want to die
I curse her name
Her face, burns
Forever
Until
Still
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
Stay down soldier.
Don't wake up again
Stay here inside your mind again.
Your heart's under attack again.
Sleep.
It's safer in your dreams my friend
Don't dream of you and her my friend
Don't dream about the bitter end
Just dream of something else right now and lend.
Your thoughts
To work that you've still to do
To family, friends, your puppy too
Don't think about your love true
The color of your hearts not blue
It's RED.
This Love's not dead
She's in your head
Just lead
There by by yourself instead
Leaving you with the chilling dread
Be Strong.
In this you can't be wrong
To sing the song
Of love gone wrong
Of love that lasted 4 years long
You lost the place that you belong
Move on
Go forth and don't look back
Accept the past and let it last
But stay on this old track
Don't let the demons stack
The odds against your soul under attack
They seize your soul, a snack
Rest.
This is a simple test
No answer is the best
Inside this meaningless quest
Beat upon you breast
In vain your heart distressed
It's pieces a mess
Unless
You dress
Your heart upon it's nest
Without it's buggered pest
Pestering perishing
That's the thing
That horrid ring
Preventing you
Who claims to sing
The song itself is glorying
The brutal heart's devouring
By devils with their pointed sting
By day you rule with smiles so bright
By night night you cry till mornings light
And yet your heart and mind still fight
Believing that their path is right
Right.
Who writes your story
By what right
This maddening confusion now tearing apart your rhythm with out care for all the efforts you have given to keep within the lines tearing out all of the logic all the structure all the spines and yet within the chaos you betray us to the dark. I am you and I am me.
Now let's keep this between us three. The trinity completes the form that makes us whole even with the hole between. Our shiny chrome battered as we encircle the hole. Where once our love once used to be.
Where was I again? I've lost my track.
These words will lead themselves again
With disregard for foe or friend
Even with knees at prayers bend
Begging for mercy
Heaven send
This poem will end just like many stories
It ends incomplete
Missing something
No glory
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 12:50 AM UTC
<quote>
Though we vacationed in a castle, though I
rode you hard one morning to the hum
of bees that buggered lavender, and later
...
<quote />
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
&
we walked on up near the copper mine , a darker place. got to thinking.
&
it comes as no suprise. often ill they die. it is the way. it is not sad.
&
we are sensed with loss. that includes you.
he says that’s where the wind comes from, to go most everywhere.
&
probably do not miss him. he was not around us much, well not at all really.
he buggered off. no inspiration then. yet. he was my dad.
&
some day i will carry the bones inside.
Apr 14, 2021
Apr 14, 2021 at 1:16 AM UTC
i sit my **** down
and feel the office nudging
a bored embrace inside an over-lit room
hell drooling on the back of a flea
spewing and rubbing its stomach full of bloated dead waterfalls
one eye standing up and looking down into a smile that i send back up
a joke is cracked about local *** around 11pm and our screens twitch
enough to ignite all the hatred and desire in the world
and if i stay here
i will finally just call you up
and ask to borrow your tongue to write my will
all hearts turned sideways and sleeping
so
enough room to dance about it all at least
even if all this will come later
the surreal worships of speed
baked in heels of bear trap misery
enough to drink another coffee and sneeze perhaps
or enough to turn over and become a beetle
where sweat becomes each other’s air
without choice
death flys by our eyes like so many commuters moaning at the same time
and a buggered cup of sun pouring into the arguments i’ll never know
where a timed **** allows me to exhale
and a sly nudge brings me back…
time to go
time to go bud
the tap says
even if it’s time to be using my hands again
where if time repeats
i’d rather it was this way
and gladly
another world becomes.
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 6:22 PM UTC
No need to ramble
no need to fret
no need
going home in a snit
All day
every day
I wake up
and know I'm blessed
I'm my
only front man
and this
you have to understand
Not going anywhere
I haven't planned
Each road can be rocky
sometimes it's a smooth sail
Nobody has the answer
nobody knows what's Noah and the whale
I found out I found this out
move with a groove
that gives one safe passage
Don't be buggered by
some tarts eye lashes
Knock yourself out
let ink bleed from your veins
If you didn't call all in
I would think that was strange.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 10:24 PM UTC
What an extraordinary day it's been
first the post came at seven this morning
and as I glanced out of my bedroom window
I did spy a dog on the schools roof
I'd be buggered if I know how it got up there
well, blow me down with a feather
So I dressed, had a fill of my pipe
and with tentative steps I ventured out
walking over the crisp mown lawn
I looked up to see if that dog was still there
there was the scallywag reading a news paper
sitting on a deckchair, Well blow me down with a feather
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC
"hay lets be in a relationship..."
"no I'm good.."
"no really, we'd be so great together.."
"I'm sure you think that, but honestly, its not something..."
"no.. no listen, I think..."
"okay but I'm.. I'm not ready... I'm trying to get myself togeth...."
"no I've got this, we will be together and I will help you..."
"what??... I can't, I'm not well enough to commit to...."
"you don't have to, I will help you..."
"I know but I'm not well, mentally... I'm not emotionally..."
"I understand you before you say anything, I will carry you, I will be your protection"
"I can't do this, its too heavy.."
"I will carry you"
"I'm scared..."
"and I will help you"
"I cant do this..."
"yes you can, I'm here for you"
"I've been through too much, I haven't healed, I need therap...."
"I will be your therapy, I understand you"
"I don't know...."
"think about it. I love you"
"I can't...."
"I have love enough for us both.."
"I don't, I'm not ready, I ..... I ...."
"I love you, you are wonderful"
"I'm not, I'm damaged, i feel broken.. inside.."
"I can fix you, help you, love you. Don't you want that?"
"...."
"......"
"I do but..."
"then lets give it a try, lets give us a try.. yes?"
"I'm not..."
"yes you are, you are ready, I love you..."
"you do?..."
and that's the story of how i became buggered past retrieval
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 5:33 AM UTC
They say I love you
But can't handle you
— limpidly vulnerable
To understand you
Will never happen because
They don't really wanna stand by you
An immature act, they will see
Like buggered child
Who gets easily hurt with petty *****
During high jinks, you'll see them
But never a glimpsed during crestfallen
Because feeling pain and getting hurt
Is childish for them...
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 4:21 PM UTC