Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
ᕼONEY Sep 2018
listen pretty girl
with the pretty voice and eyes
time is getting cold

all the leaves will fall
can I hold you when it's cold
your warm hands in mine

I'm cold by myself
listen here pretty girl I
want your hands in mine

come there's a small fire
the stars are in my pocket
we can fly away

have a little fun
slipped into an unconsciousness
midnight chills I'm cold
haiku
Kara Jean May 2016
I see the purpose now
Those who use insecurities
Those who are condescending
They only put fear into their coffee
A fear that someone will see the world's opportunity
Bitterness has never been fact nor reality
Their statements will never be anymore, always less stability
Turn their sentences into silence and keep smiling
Never let someone's weakness destroy your happy
David R Oct 2018
Nag, nagging,
Finger wagging,
Shoulders sagging,
Victim slagging.

Oh beration,
Flagellation,
Irritating
Castigation.

Cutting hemlock,
On her chopping block,
Innuendoes
Spawning ad hoc.

Super-intending,
Condescending,
Never ending,
Insult fending.

Pointless rounds
Of empty double-talk,
Wife, your name is
Self-styled wise hawk.
igc May 2015
I saw the best minds of my generation congested and
polluted overdosing on irrelevance

Abandoned abused replaced
Fed to the thought police
Corrected corrupted
Declining the potential to be heard in
exchange for the opportunity to be documented

Lives being lived according to unfeasible standards
You either make it or you don’t
there’s no in between
there’s no maybe
there’s no equal

Left to meander through the conceived thoughts of others
decisions being made
moves being made
eulogies being made

nothings real
nothing’s right
nothing’s honest
nothing thought up matters


Who in the safety of their homes were taught respect
are told to mask their emotions
Identities saved for the weak
Only to be showcased when conducive

Who pump iron into their veins
looking for an angry fix of acceptance
Sweat streams surge down their backs
Failure prominent in their thoughts
Motivation blessing their features
the Devil clever in disguise

Who see little white fields of fairy dust
a never ending landscape of courage
giving them superpowers beyond belief

Nothing beats the freedom of being told
You can fly

Who dream of equality behind closed eyes
But render to imposed birth rights when open
The upper hand implying more than height
and executing more force than necessary to move them

It’s all about the cause until you’re indubitably
the effect

Who tuck monsters into their beds
Forgetting to check closets for skeletons not quite left behind
in the path of carefully chaotic self destruction
Conveniently purging themselves of words whispered
in the throes of passion
Forced upon the ears of all naive enough to listen

Who carelessly expend countless hours playing with
condescending pawns disguised as adults
All grown up with no where to go
Replacing quality with quantity
Leaving long dull trails of breadcrumbs
leading to hearts long since lost
Never to be recovered again

Who follow sexuality by the book
doing this to get that for this him them who what when where
Why does the finish line have to be covered with brightly colored lace and muffled drunk cries chanting no

Who stare straight dead into the soul of love but never
Never into her eyes
Told she is not worthy of being addressed directly
Fingers itching to cop a feel
Only to discover the body is but a passage to her straight dead soul


Who trade in their voice mind and individuality
for half assed smiles and superficial men
As the face of a leviathan nicknamed acceptance
hands them a paycheck they’ve worked too
night day night night hard to refuse

Who idolize the feel of phantom limbs of lovers past
Twisted words convoluting their heads
Forcing on masks of pure heroine
at the sight of scars left on the soul
Scratching at the need to feel wanted
But cowering at the ability to truly be heard

Who have perfected the art of parallel painting
Elegant red streaks hidden beneath layers of
choppy dark colored hate covering pretty pale limbs
Seeming to fade as colorlessly caked on insecurities susurrate bitter-sweet nothings that curl themselves just inside her mutilated skin

Who scavenged their looks from the bottom of holes
they’re expected to clamber out of
Smiling pretty smiling
Being treated to complimentary meals
Only to be served plates full of disappointment.

Who crave companion’s flaws
in ruthless attempts to satisfy their hunger for compassion
Selfless beings dedicated to less than noble attempts at vanquish
The call for heat too satisfying to refuse the trade off forever uselessly launching themselves into razor sharp blades
aimed at ***** sleeves

Who see soft lips as cushion enough to fall from towers built of fear
Dragging moist palms across pavement thighs
Tearing at the seams holding their
hearts together

Who cower behind brick wall appearances
fruitlessly clutching on to ideas reserved for the most fortunate
Scaring away potential with claws that seemingly only come
out to play in the face of acceptance

Who’s sick stick thin limbs trail their worn down
fingernails in an effort mar skin no one can see
Streaks titillate their bright red scalps
A reflection of their underlying journey

Who disgorge yesterday's meal from stomachs long before empty
Blood spewing from the mouth an open wound
Continuously sewed up but never stitched tight correctly
Wiring shut opinions but never gorged enough to
muzzle their Howls



Ideas, calm and collected have long been hijacked and invaded by Hestia

Hestia! Consent! Content! Acceptance!
Long nights and roid rage men!
Two faces fighting a losing battle!
Girls playing mom! Boys playing war!
Ill ridden parents still pledging to the
United States of Controlling Media!

Hestia! Hestia!
Overall reign of Hestia!
Hestia the beautiful!
Incarcerated Hestia!
Hestia the ******!

Hestia twisted and shaped to form the voice of conformity
Hestia constantly watching over and monitoring
Hestia being told what to ******* think

Hestia seeping creeping sneaking into the
darkest crevices of our minds
Hestia when least expected coming out to say
“Hello”

Too late! Hestia’s already made herself at home
Wedged between the rooks of your biggest fear and
burrowed deep into the folds of
Your  Worst  Nightmare

**** in a constant battle between
rejecting Hestia,
and accepting her.
This was obviously inspired by Allen Ginsberg's "Howl."
Considering it was, at the time, the voice of that generation, Welcome to Generation Y.
This is a work in progress.
ryn Oct 2014
Found myself at a dental clinic...
He was the best there was.
Unorthodox and eccentric,
But to the specialised craft, he was boss.

Ran through the bits and bobs
Like any normally would.
The poking and prodding and the mandible X-rays.
Everything cold and clinical, so was the mood.

Strange was what happened next...
Specialist and I then stood facing each other.
He leaned close and pressed his palms against my rib cage.
Held them there over a few breaths before it was over.

Then a brief chat, small talk initiated by the man.
Bespectacled and exceedingly chatty, small in stature.
Talks of politics and odd human behaviours...
What started off as friendly turned into a heated banter.

I then realised that along with his decorated credentials,
Was his propensity to be condescending and arrogant.
Him being the best, I thought I could let it all slide,
But soon enough I opted out of being a willing participant.

Couldn't stand his abrasive cockiness!
I snapped out of being cordial and passive thought.
I wanted him to just stop talking!
I went, "Well, are you going to fix my teeth or not?!"

He was stunned momentarily...
I suppose he hadn't seen that coming.
Then his features softened to a blank
I could almost read the unspoken words he was conjuring.

With an exasperated sigh of resignation,
He uttered his next words swollen with regret
"There's no need...for you only have four years left."
It dawned upon me that my timer has been set.

*And then I woke up...
Had this dream several nights ago. I believe that in a lifetime, we'd probably get at least three dreams that would be etched in our minds forever. So far I've had two... The other is in my earlier writes.
See "Mysterious".
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/831521/mysterious/
It's that time of the Patriot's year
Postseason playoff games are in full gear
The road to the Superbowl, I cheer
But not for the big, bad grissly bear
That takes every opponent's fate without fear
That's right the big bad bear without peer
I'm snickering the Patriot's to cry a tear
Nothing would make me so happier, I swear
Fricken, dicken, bitchen Patriots beware
To see another Bostonian tea party, I glare
I do show respect at the Patriot's lair
Brady and Belicheck what a podded pair
Steady, stoic and simulcast, condescending I declare
You see a Patriots playoff loss is so rare
Their team profile is beyond compare
A well oiled machine that wear
Goliath close over David with regular fare
The road to this year's Superbowl Sunday, I say a prayer
That the other teams flag is flying patriotically in the air

Logan Robertson

1/11/2019
I hope David crashes the Patriots party with flying colors. Edit-Today was the Super Bowl ... and guess not. The commercials and the pregame show were great and, oh, Brady with his sixth Super Bowl ring, which is very awesome.
Kara Jean May 2016
The world is not complex
People just say it is to hide their *******, excuses for self justification
Let us give them our admiration for their condescending inspiration
Lonely is fun when your enticingly crazy
Never entirely board when your consumed in self argumentative rambling
A gesture I call exciting
I don't deny the chaos erupting from my skulls siding
Nor should anybody
I have a tendency of getting delighted the moment I put my animosity on display
It's kind of like my you have a "blessed day"
Yes I'm ok
I have daily meetings with the counselor in my head and he
said this is progress
I added more
False prophets, you dig our graves with sinister divinations,
Bestow unrepentant indignation, and neglect to hide your shallowness.
Cast condescending shadows from high upon your sanctimonious mount, but
We wear our pride; our faith and love, our shrouds, and we will not be buried in the night.
Oh, I say woe unto them that call evil good and substitute darkness for light.
Oh, weary we may be, but forsaken we are not. Tread lightly when with lust and greed you choose to cast your lots.
Written for First Baptist Church of Worcester Poetry Fest Challenge 1: Acrostic – FBCWOO.
You wish for me to put in words
What I have to say
Like the answers that I've given
On their own could never relay
They come and go
Touch on fate
Dissipate and replicate
The disingenuous nature
That you frequently necessitate

Extend your olive branch
Then act like you feed me
When the branches are famished
Needy, condescending and deceiving Conceiving that I'm the villain
When I don't respond to how you react
Like you could perpetuate in me
The supposition for your tact

The fact that you lack any original clarity Is the reason I'd never reach to you
Like I was Seraphim
The simple reason that I'm writing all of this
Is simply just to prove to you
That I don't have to convince
I don't have to persist
Rehash, then reminisce
Like treading through faded memories with you
Will satiate my daily fix

I resist
Because I know exactly where I'm headed And you insist because that truth
Is what keeps us separate
Every second
You playcate on a pretense
When your intentions are crystal clear
And I can't provide that service
Or serve that purpose
While I'm standing here

To be perfectly honest
I never promised you anything
All I did was sigh and reply
To how your heart would so readily sing Then you project your insecurities
Directly to my face
As if I was the one who gave them rise
Within the first place

Protecting your manipulations
While contemplating your motives
Are exactly the reasons we're done
Before we even started
I'm sick of being a punching bag
For someone always acting devoted

And now it's been denoted
I've written you off, this story is done
This time you're in the subject line
Because you are truly NOT the one
You wanted me to write you something. There you go.
Osiria Melody Mar 13
I.
Quite irritating and aggravating,
Hater tater tots come wailing
Prevailing in their scathing, vapid thoughts

Appreciating their own reflections,
To the likes of Narcissussss
Derailing your train of thought with their words:

Vile arpeggios of "you're mediocre" shift TO
crescendos of "you're incompetent" TO
diminuendos of "you can do it" in hopes of
making you feel better,
Although you know that bit of motivation from
them is a lie—a blatant lie

II.
Quite condescending and stupefying,
Hater tater tots come to knock down your
door of confidence
Prevail in your defense of self-respect and
vow to protect your house of strength

Appreciating your own reflection,
To the likes of humility and empowerment
Derailing their doubts about you with your actions:

Victorious arpeggios of "I'll still write"
shift TO crescendos of "I'm better than my
past selves" TO diminuendos of "I know
I can do it" to stay afloat,
Although you know that the flaming
torch of criticism may burn you now
and then—blatant pain

III.
Amid the tornado of public criticism that
your mind is rotating in,
Amid your deteriorating state of
motivation,
Amid this negativity from
others that is pure B.S.

IV.
Bake the hater tater tots
Burn them with your self-confidence



Melody
3/13/19
Love your poems because you should appreciate your work the most.
Hunter Taylor Feb 13
I'm pretending
I'm descending
In a pit of comprehending
Of why I'm condescending
And I'm infuriating
And debating
Whether its blood that I'm tasting
Or just the time that I'm wasting
But my head is made of lead
And I collapse as if I'm dead
The thunder is louder in my head
So I wanna go back to bed
I'm painfully painting
Frantically fading
Slightly saying
I'm definitely draining
You drive me nuts
You drive me crazy
I hate your guts
But you’re my baby

I choked you once
You called me daddy
I’m the one you trust
Because you’re batty

I’m on the cusp
But I’m too lazy
I pack a punch
That’ll make you dizzy

Call it a hunch
Your hair is wavy
You knocked me out
You tried to save me

You fed me lunch
Something with gravy
It had a crunch
But it was tasty

You took a razor
And tried to shave me
You cut my throat
And nearly killed me

You’re on the bed
You look so ****
Despite your looks
Your eyes are deadly

You’ve got the goods
My mind is hazy
You’re looking good
I’m condescending

Your mouth is filth
So controversially
You come from wealth
You have a bounty

Gonna beat that ***
Don’t you dare me
The bullets fly
When things get hairy

The end is near
You still can’t change me
I’ll fight and groan
It makes me manly

You hate my guts
But you love me
Gave you an inch
But you took fifty

Now I’m out of time
Don’t contradict me
Now hurry up
It’s time, we’re leaving
MUNCHY Sep 2018
Slipped off the wagon and went on tangents in my mind what could've happened.

How can a person be so cold but yet so warm?
So loving yet so condescending?


I open the door that God was telling me to close.
Went around John's barn to see how my love would play out.
..... in the end
I was victorious without you.
No wonder the open door God was telling me to close was freedom from your ways.


Out of all the ones you claim to be yours was actually incorrect
  because you beat around the bush and try to hide yourself from those who you tried to ignore.

And yet you still couldn't approach the essence of my human being; the truth of all the lies you tried to cover underneath-
with all the damage that I had to convey and store away.

For some reason I managed to be strong as steel
but is that even real ?
You envied my intelligence and yet you chose to test my patience
yet you knew I could put you in your place without cussing or intervening in your lustful ways.

To this day , I stand high & proud telling you off as I did then and now
and now and then , you lacked to show your truth within

The walls cracked the gap of the love that I had.

But instead all I got was manipulation and yet the funny thing is that misled your ways.

A person can be known for being the happiest  person in the world you can ever meet .

However they have fire inside to turn down all there enemies plans in order for them to not to succeed.


We all don't start off as flowers whether it's  a seed or **** that grows
whether or not we empower or rather sink than float

Bless your soul and bless others

Never let the gaping walls crack or the ocean sea swallow you whole.
You have a life to live
!
Grow from the dirt
,
Learn from the pain,

Seize the heartache,

Endure the reign
,
Live to the fullest
,
But never be too full to gain

They are the audience,

you are the performer

They're in the cheap seats for a reason

The only difference is you control how you want your life to be played.

Not portrayed

~ Jordan Munchenburg ~
A part of me still wishes to die
Maybe that part of me should
That part so attached to my demons alike
To rid myself of them; if only I could

Spiteful thoughts fester in the darkest corners
They tell me I am simply no-good
Isolate yourself, you'll be happier that way
You have lived long enough misunderstood

How loud is her voice, condescending and cruel
Yet, she raised me since childhood
Like a toxic love you cannot seem to part with
I still live for the day I would
SimpleWritings Dec 2018
one of the hardest things in life
is to simply accept someone
for who they are

one of the easiest things in life
is to strongly hate them
for not being able to change

choosing the hard one
will help you grow

choosing the easy one
will help you destroy

but what if accepting someone
for who they are means loving them
more than loving yourself?

what if accepting someone
for who they are means accepting
violent hellos and condescending goodbyes?

06/06/2011
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2018
They were ok on the screen
of Breaking Bad, but one does
find that they can also be used
in a condescending tone.

The British are quite goos at it,
demeaning derogatory undertones by
verbal diminishings, such as, The IRA.
Full denomination please, makes one Irate.

Ps.

They say, The I.R.A. is a terrorist organisation
Not, The Irish Republican Army is a T.O.
Irish Republican Army
does not have a T nor an O
in its composition, it is highly
disciplined and organised,
with commanding officers
and Generals, just like all
armies.

Not a Terrorist Organisation.
Aaron Elswick Nov 2018
You've been offline for 16 minutes
I could have said it, but I didn't
I had it written, but I didn't send it
I'm kind of a coward, I'll admit it.

I couldn't fit it in a space that I thought you would read
I had a tendency to ramble when you listened
or pretended, and in the poems that you've never seen
it's just as bad,
I go careening through a bending path of bramble
tryna scramble to the point
but I lost you
neck deep in the prose that arose
around a metaphor packed to the brim
with condescending tid bits
where I use your words against you
but a heavy weight that sits
over it all, when I lost the only friend I can talk to

so let me spend the next half hour
showering over you
another lesson in epistemology
honestly I don't know how you could be
so dim to miss what I've put in to this

Do you not see how wrong you are

Does it bother you
To have every miss step
pounced on and deconstructed
I was talking down
just to knock it through your thick head
but I guess I ****** it
I'll just have to say it angrier now

Let me spend the next two months convincing you
whatever you had seen in me was through a lens
I didn't deserve to be seen through
All it took was losing you to see
I'm exactly where I should have ended up

I know that no apology
will unwind the web I spun. the web I sit on now
to watch what I've undone with my own hands.
Hands that even now subside in fear
of what I'd hear then in your voice
when you reply
to let it die

So I'll let it die
I'm sorry
This one isn't too dense so I don't think it needs much explanation.
muna Jan 20
i'm sorry i don't see the humour in life
sorry can't laugh stupidly about everything
with you
all you'll get from me is synthetic smiles
all you'll get from me is forced chuckles
and condescending nods
because really.......
i never get the joke
It begins with a soft bite
That quickly forms into a leech
Beseeching my thoughts...
Controlling my speech..
Preaching important matters
Carrying potential to teach
All their essential condescending
Never-endings out of reach

Yet the pitfall arrives
When I choose to listen
With sighs and ghosted thoughts
The result of some or other condition
Bolstering a vision with apt precision
When every remission indicates
The necessary revision

Envy stifles a stern conviction
Jealousy trifles within final prediction
Anger endangers calm
Making strangers within this perdition
Bring it all in as I wriggle and writhe
Because I am to blame
For all of my pride

...It stays inside

As soon as my cards were shown I decided to fold. I can't keep this under control while I'm so vulnerable. Yet another rapport thrown in the fire and tossed out the door... And I'm so **** gullible. I watch this bridge burn from a distance before it will mend. Yet again the result of desiring you-
More than a friend
Elizabeth Jan 18
I’m the youngest in my family.

And while it has amazing aspects, nobody talks about the downside of being the baby.

If you stay in a cradle too long, you’ll never learn how to walk.
If you're always spoken for, you'll never find the voice to talk.

How can a love be simultaneously supportive and condescending? I tell them about my hopes to achieve one day, and they return with a weak smile that speaks more than any words they say: sweetie you can’t do that, no way.

Instead of being viewed as strong and independent I'm weak and insufficient.

I have big dreams and they're removed, not approved, because I'm the baby and cant handle something so huge.

I try to imagine a world where I can achieve through hard work and creation…
but babies learn from observation.
I’ll just be the the baby in need of salvation.

I am in a constant state of self doubt, always craving others’ approval and without it back out...

hindering myself from greatness and strength while swelling in shame.
I might have a candles potential, but there’s no fire without a flame.

It’s like an arm thats been held in a cast
or a cherished childhood teddy bear from the past
too much love has made it weak, wether its muscle deterioration or a flimsy, hairless physique.

Nobody talks about the downside of being the baby.
MUNCHY Sep 2018
He tried
to heal the wounds that were bound to hurt again .
Put bandages over the cuts that cut so deep into a person’s heart & soul that eventually
the bandages suddenly
peeled and popped  off again.

Every lie
that was once told is now kept
top secret
in group chats
which is no match
for how he responded
to the wicked ways
of  this so called
“Be respectful ,
Be responsible ,
& Be safe  place .”
Yet he chose to see the real
in people’s  heart & eyes.
Boy, was he blind !

He recognized
that he , himself
has flaws just like everyone else  .  Took those flaws into consideration    just like taking his broken heart
& creating it into magnificent art.
Yet to this day,
people still don’t quite get
the picture!

People hide behind the keyboards  texting ,
behind stage curtains
talking crap.
Stirring up trouble just like playing Chinese Telephone.
As a result, things that were not initially said and done
are now twisted,
conspicuous,
& can never be undone !

However, he managed to see past “he said -she said” crap .
Looked beyond the assumption of what people told him .
Deciphered the harsh reality of spurious and counterfeit people
& yet he chose
to **** those
people with kindness.
But there’s no change
to the content
of some people portraying
their ugliness within
outwards for all their “clique” to see
knowing **** well that’s not who they are within,
nor who they want to be.

Pleasing the pleasers
aren’t so pleasing especially
when there is no meaning:
If you ease in
too quickly  
into a person to comfort,
guide & advise,
they automatically are envious & assume you want something from them .
If you put
your pride aside
& focus on the heart of the situation of a broken hearted person & what they are going through ,people assume  you’re using them at their weakest point to get close to them for the wrong reasons .
If a person is crying out for help & yet only a few
come to the rescue,
people assume
that they are there to just feed off of the drama so they can make it their own personal business
& then later on ,
contradict themselves by
having
conflicting feelings
towards other individuals.

So he wrapped
all of that
into one knot,
threw it out his sight ,
& left it there.
He didn’t want to be
apart of those knots
because people would try
to connect those dots:
By swirling him
back in,
tangled & confused ,
part of their topic
again,
mislead & used.
ENOUGH
of the nebulous apprehensions!
HE’S DONE
with condescending cockiness of  people
creating critical confusion towards nurturing
loving individuals
Instead of
Deceitful
Distasteful
Deceivable
Hateful
Little creatures.

Yet he still called himself the fixer . Because he tried to fix
broken hearts but in the end
the only heart that was broken,
was his.
Tried to patch the wounds that needed healing for others.
Yet
he still went
through the healing process within.
Gathered a  new individual  in the  spotlight  to be more welcoming for others that don’t feel welcomed  in and at the end of the day ,
people that were nobody before & unforgettable now,
forget where they started
& who got them to a place
&  state
of belonging of some sort where everyone now knows their name.

But the unseen is mysterious which is unclear to the human eye .
Too many shadows that follow a dark path .
Too many chiefs but not enough Indians.
Too many leaders that get lost in themselves & when others get lost they can’t reach out a single helping hand to help .

But a fixer could have  fixed
some of these issues if
you would have let them in .
But no , you didn’t so
instead, he took a step back
& did him .
But when you needed fixing,
it’s sad to say that no one that the fixer helped, especially you , didn’t come to comfort,
rush ,
nor sprinted
to help the fixer that put in
all that effort to make you feel good within.
Gave you that motivation to talk to your crush over & over .
Boy what  repetition!
Advised  the situations that you could have thought about & done  for yourself without  him.
& now only God & the people he brings forth to the next her or him ,
we’ll be more than
enough to keep them
stable when
they felt like they’ve done all they can
for others that  don’t deserve their happiness.
So let me tell you something!
He’s gonna do all that he can
for himself .

He’s  no longer a fixer for those  that almost thought they destroyed him.
He’s now a builder ,
creating a pathway for his own happiness !
He
now has a story for all of those who feels or has felt ,
deals with or has dealt ,
With the outcome of pain , betrayal & agony of  fixing
other people even by the way you treated people in your life that was so damaging ,
is that they do now have a voice
& shouldn’t be a afraid to  exploit
the truth .
When they do ,
they too,
can be builders for themselves  when going through hell,
letting go of toxic people
& their **** truths .
So I have a question for you .
Now ain’t that a fixer ?!?!
Yeah I thought so too!

~ Jordan Munchenburg ~
Chris Slade May 30
The Avro Vulcan, a majestic big old iron bird, sublime,
was to do a flyby for just one memorable last time.
Maybe with a jet fighter or a Spitfire on each wing, who knew?…
Unthinkable to miss it… almost a crime.
Thousands turned up every year, always a great day out -
but this year would be special, no doubt.
The last flight of such a legendary plane made it essential…
So, after the flyers’ break for lunch, the crowd filled out.

The entry fee to occupy the field was heinous. 25 quid!
That was for adults - and a fiver for each kid.
So, many more than those that paid, sat happily outside pubs.
Others found shelter in the perimeter’s trees and... kinda hid.
Now, to see a Vulcan fly anytime, anywhere, was magic…
She was a Cold War Leviathan
that held players in the planet’s power games in awe.
And this would be her last time doing the rounds on the air show circuit -
Seeing this locally was hard to ignore.

Mark (a nephew) was a window cleaner by trade.
A regular, down to earth, happy go lucky guy.
…Saturday comes and the kids all voted "McDonalds"…
“A Happy Meal!” they’d cry.
He said that was fine - they’d all go after he’d nipped over
to the airshow to watch the Vulcan fly.
No idea whatsoever, of course, that just by going to Shoreham
just 5 miles away, for half an hour or so… that he might die.

He told his fiancé he’d only be an hour or so…
be back in time to take the kids for a burger and, "NO!"...
He wouldn’t stay. He was the only one in the family
who was bothered anyway…so he wouldn’t ****** up their day.
So, in haste, because apparently Chicken Nuggets & Fries
was much better for the kids than a load of old planes,
he cranked the best out of his bike along the 27 and,
once at the lights by the Sussex Pad,
he pulled over to the kerb to watch from the bushes.

Andy Hill was a flyer of many years. His weekday job,
flying for BA.Taking holiday makers, business folk transatlantic in Seven Four Sevens...
A flight deck maestro, soaring up, just under the heavens.
He’d done Shoreham loads of times… it was exciting, exhilarating... His game!
He was off the hook,  became an ace. It gave him that 15 minutes of fame!
Free to thrill - a hero! Standing out from the crowd with every daring step he took.

He wasn’t just a petrol head… this bloke had aviation fuel in his blood.
Adrenalin on tick-over and it’s 0 to 60 in 2.7 seconds with 22,000 Horsepower under the hood.
He left Epping full of fuel, just 90 miles away, so in about 5 minutes he was with us, fully loaded and, the weather was good.
First up after lunch at half past one… he streaked across the crowded field.
Over and out and up, up, up… Little did the spectators know that Andy had forgotten he was flying a Hunter…
He thought it was last year’s aborted routine in a Jet Provost… The one they'd stopped part way through being, too risky.

"He’s not gonna make it… I can’t look!" There was a hush… a nanosecond’s silence and then the rush,
the whoomph that said it all… that hush! The ground shook!
And the eleven - plus others injured - went up in Andy Hill’s very own fireball!
No, of course, Mark wasn’t the only one to die that day.
Ten other ‘innocents’ left us in pretty much the same way…
Maurice, Dylan, Tony, Matthew, Matt, Graham, Mark R, Daniele, Richard & Jacob.
Mark T, our Mark, had the distinction of having two funerals, not just the one…
More remains were discovered, analysed and found to be his!
Even after he’d…well... ‘gone’.

The injustice that eleven spectators or just passers by should die
when the survivor, the off target driver, who sped too low from the sky, should, after a suitable pause in this ghoulish game, be exonerated and not take any blame.
Well it’s all sort of things… It's ridiculous, pathetic, obtuse, a joke… who do they think we are?

But the great and the good deliberated, scratched their heads and worked hard to make everything look ’right’…
Tolerance for the bereaved to grieve, platitudes, condescending attitudes, a memorial service.
Thanks - genuinely - to the emergency services… Not just a little buck-passing… But the public often judged them. Arsing about - to cover their corporate backside.
They can’t insult me (or us)… intelligent people have tried…

Andy Hill was judged to be not guilty of 11 counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
But he claimed he blacked out in the air, having experienced ‘cognitive impairment’ brought on by hypoxia … possibly due to the effects of G-force…. Of course!
The 11 were either hit by the plane or roasted in a fireball caused when the jet flew too low and too slow. If it wasn’t Andy’s fault then whose is it?

Surely this can’t be the end of this travesty of justice!!

BUT, there IS a new memorial to the dead. And it’s a good one too…  The best that anyone can do.

There is also a very bitter taste, still today…
that somehow... just won’t go away!
This is a bit of a saga... But I think it's worth it...On August 22nd 2015 there was a disaster at Shoreham Air Show, West Sussex... on the south coast of England and eleven people died. A loop the loop, too low and too slow. The pilot lived and recovered from his injuries and was found not guilty of eleven counts of manslaughter by gross negligence.
Next page