"feck" poems
She mentioned in passing,
That if anything was to happen,
They asked if I could be yours.
To shout at to tidy my room,
Clean the dishes,
Or tell me to **** off when my heart was broken.
You think your greatest gestures were the presents, tickets, trips, autographs,
The army of "Please look after this bear" Paddingtons,
But you're wrong.
It was the two sentence emails,
Telling me cocktails could take the edge off chemo.
It was teaching me how to swear.
It was the cough and mumbled 'Luvyuutu" over the phone, reluctant but not regretful.
That call she made probably ended,
With a pause, a gulp, a tremor in your voice.
It would be you who'd shorten such an important answer.
A "Yep".
A clack of the phone on the desk.
And a "Luvyuutu, Ferg." after you hung up.
Jun 24, 2011
Jun 24, 2011 at 1:22 PM UTC
.
The oceans are dying,
Coral reefs are bleached,
Ghostly acidic in the seas,
Climate is changing, not for Nero,
But for subjects who wait in whirlwinds
Eye, underneath uncapped mountain peaks,
And water is draining underground. Where is
Reason, where is sense uncommon? Not with
Elected hands who are wringing to lords of zero,
Whose legions are sent off, engaged in foreign wars,
To scathe, faraway dramas brought back home,
Politicians squabble, as they reel, cashing in,
Seals of unapprovals, witness hollow, low rings,
Infrastructure crumbles, above our dry heads,
And Nero plays his fiddle, in a land of perky dead,
John Lennon said NYC was in reality the new
Rome, soon set to burn, in a decade or so,
Nero knows, Nero plays, could give a feck'
Humanity is Nero playing his fiery fiddle
There is only one issue of news that matters,
Not bread, or circus, Kardashians, or deflated
Footballs, it is our survival, the earth, heating up,
Is angry and we are small, deaf, blind and numb,
A mankind of fools with Nero playing his fiddle.
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Put the coin in the box,
Colin, Uncle Donal said,
Hear it shake, and he’d
Take up the box and shake
It hard so that the coins
Would rattle loudly. Do you
Hear that, Colin, that’s the
Change from my purse and
Pocket, the missionaries can
Have that for their work abroad,
To feed and spread the Word.
Will you hush the noise there,
Granddaddy called; I can’t hear
Myself think for the racket of it.
The horses are on the run and I
Can’t hear who is where and who’s
Behind. Uncle Donal put the
Charity box down on the mantel
Shelf with the gentleness of Cousin
Chloe removing her underwear
Before her bath. Ah, **** the horse,
Granddaddy bellowed, I could run
Faster myself so I could. Never bet
On the horses, Colin, he said, they’ll
Let you down and take your money
Just like a woman. Uncle Donal pulled
A face and grinned from ear to ear, as
Grandmother entered the room with
A face of thunder and Granddaddy said,
Oh, hello, wife, how are you my dear?
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
Y'know whenever I go to my brother's to watch a football game
He always brings out a lovely big platter of cheeses, with a selection of crackers
This and some hummus, nuts and potato crisps
Along with a nice cold beer
He really likes his cheeses does my brother
Me! I don't mind a bit of cheese myself
But Him, he's a real connoisseur.
Anyway last Christmas I was looking for a present to bring him
And in my local supermarket, guess what, they had these lovely big platters of various cheeses
Wow! I was delighted, that was his present sorted
No more traipsing around shops, tiring my poor feet out
And this was a good present, something he'd really like;
So I brought the cheese home and put it in the fridge
Next morning I was up early sorting out the presents, who got what
Putting them in nice Christmasy type bags
I then packed them in the car and took off,
An hour later I'm sitting at their table and we're talking about some poor celebrity movie star who's just passed away
Their saying he had some Brain disease, just like Alcheimers except it wasn't Alcheimers
My brother's wife is there trying to articulate, to explain
"It's like his brain had holes in it"
And I'm thinking "Holes in the brain, hmmm... just like...like a Swiss cheese"
Then, of course, I remember. **** I say out loud in front of them all,"I forgot the cheese, I left the feckin' cheese in the fridge"
Really ****** me off
Then I start thinking, that's actually quite funny
We're talking about Alcheimers disease and it reminds me I left the cheese in the fridge
What do you call that, is that ironic or what ?
What's a Paradox ? Sounds like a washing powder.
Wait! Is this a poem at all or am I in the wrong place ? (LoL)
May 23, 2021
May 23, 2021 at 10:31 AM UTC
So I went to get new glasses
Cos my eyes have felt real bad
I went there feeling cr*p
I left there feeling sad
I squinted and I squirmed
In that black opticians chair
"I'm afraid your vouchers expired sir"
**** off that isn't fair!"
Well that's what I wanted to say
But I bit me lip and sighed
When she told me what I owed
I almost frickin died
"How much?! I blurted back
Wide eyed and unamused
I was fed up and so I nodded
**** me should have refused!
I hope these glasses see covid
It should for that friggin' sum
Stick your lenses and your voucher
Right up your b**
Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 5:42 PM UTC
It’s my thang a langwitch spellproteckter go getter- sleek katrina stereowrite braid these monster tentacles aww now cute buzz pro bro-intellectual collaboration gush &fush; & fleek flecks firecompass full of grandiose art verses culture legions sing over and outty 5000 package cursive dialog primer kilameter romance make it equator atypical retro passion that ****** away cuss words p phucker! grade cheated tempo cuntgrunge klue move shadows to stand alones while in line to get in the barfuck gang outside party with smilie txt tshirt and a computer on diet coke kush telescope acid whatever like you feel like emitting or like have 9 thoughts about or like forgot about escaping like post fever social media to become a social sensation out of perception the limited yet coveted cherished harps and fairies and twinkly shimmery **** that doesnt growl or grunt huh? Speech please dont
As if i had the guts to stomp on a butterfly-award speaking dear diary fanatics central stranger than fictive red read (aloud allowed?)Which one. politically slurred thousand jury chapter grew some serious social security numbers and dyed them to prove a cutup battle wins the war
**** **** fick fock u
Mindseekers
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
There are tears that fall in the ocean
and tears that fall from the sky
there are tears on the faces of loved ones
don't ask me
I can't tell you why.
In this bltzkrieg I see only compulsion
and the desire to see so much more
In compulsion I see my destruction
Tell me
what is it all for?
I look but can't find
perhaps I am blind to what stares at me in the face
but the forest's no place to play hide and seek
it's so dark and so bleak
and the creaking of trees become the creaking of decks on lost ships on high seas
and I am so weak
can't be bothered to hide or to seek any more.
Tell me
what is it all for?
Is it the lust that burns deep within, for a pipe of tobacco and a pitcher of gin
and do I win when I win or is it the gin?
I lose some
choose some
confuse many
any one could
which brings me again to a knock on the wood for luck.
****
..superstition time
yeah that'll do me real fine
let me throw down the runes in the ruin that I am
let me talk to the man up above
let him lend me some love
let it fit like a glove.
but send an umbrella
the tears will come
they always see
another self fulfilling prophesy
that ties me in knots and would haves and could haves and I have lots of excuses and ruses
and time on my hands
life's metal bands have put me in chains
Link by a link of the words in the ink and bound by a round about
where I never get out
to begin again and to sing again
caged birds
caged words
tired lions
in irons
all in the mess of a life.
I confess it's not good
in the forest you'd think I'd at least see the wood
but blind again
I find again
only the dead bits that fell onto dead ground
and round and round I go again.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
On a Friday afternoon, in the Burger joint for my weekly treat
Celebrating another week in, that I'd survived another week in the job
I ordered my usual, a Veggie burger meal
They have this lovely Veggie burger, it's a burger made of potato with a lot of other vegetables through it
Is very tasty, this and some nice big chunky chips/ fries along with it, with some sachets of tomato sauce
All rounded off with a nice Black coffee... very nice...
The restaurant was quite busy that day for some reason, my usual seat was taken
So I had to find somewhere else to sit
As I sat there feeling happy with myself
I was reminded of something I'd once read about the great Irish poet W.B.Yeats
He was sitting in a teashop once looking out the window at the passing crowds
And he suddenly realised that life was good, that he could bless and be blessed
I thought to myself "I knew what he meant"
Then suddenly out of the corner of my eye I notice someone looking over at me... looking directly at me
Indeed they seem to be staring at me
I thought to myself "Better not make eye contact, might be some kind of ******
Then I noticed someone else was looking over at me too
"What the **** are you looking at!" I thought to myself
And then there was another person and then another
"What the **** are you all looking at??!" I thought getting a little flustered at this stage
Every few moments a head would pop up and start looking straight over at me
I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable
Suddenly it seemed like they were all looking over at me... the whole feckin' room
"What the hell are you all looking at, you bunch of feckers", I thought
"Had I turned into the elephant man or something !!"
Finally I said I'm getting the hell out of here
Their all looking at me
So I stuffed my bag of chips in my pocket
Drained my cup of coffee and wrapped what was left of my burger in a napkin to take away
As I stood up to put on my coat I turned around
And noticed for the first time there was a big TV screen up on the wall right behind me
So that's what the feckers were all looking over at
It wasn't me at all!!!
**** !" I thought, "spoiled my whole feckin' lunch
W.B. Yeats my ****
Mar 18, 2024
Mar 18, 2024 at 9:19 PM UTC
There were thousands and thousands o'kids
Pushed down pits or stamped out in t'mills
Mekin theer bids fer freedom.
Aye...from the drudgery and slavery of serfdom.
Now I realise..all that they got was a sub standard plot..
..and two penny's to cover...their poor dead eyes
And in the parlours Ma cries.
It was the minimum rate from which..
..we still cannot escape.
The rasping and grasping maws..
..the jaws that still trap us in poverty and penury
It's time for the judiciary to alter the law
To give poor people more.
What the **** are they waiting for?
A return to the old ways..
..back to the old days?
I wait for the answer but suspect I won't hear
And wonder what year this can be
Or even what century.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 3:53 AM UTC
I watched through
the open window
of the boys' dormitory
as one legged Anne
crutched herself
across the dew-covered lawn
of an early morning
the young nursing nun
quickly ran after her
and said
where are you going
at this time
of the morning Anne?
Getting some
fecking fresh air
Anne said
without stopping
the young nun
sort of ran beside her
trying to reason with her
but you've only got
your nightie on
and it isn't
that warm yet
the nun said
**** OFF PENGUIN
Anne bellowed
and crutched onwards
the nun red-faced
ran along side her
the white habit
flapping around her legs
Sister Paul will
not like this
the nun said
Sister fecking Paul's
not doing it
Anne said
pausing briefly
staring at the young nun
who stood a bit breathless
you mustn't use
such language Anne
it isn't nice
for the younger children
the nun said
Anne looked
at the sky
and took a huge
intake of air
and closed her eyes
any other nun
would have stood
her ground
and have ordered Anne
to returned
to the nursing home
but this young nun
just stood gaping
at the one legged girl
standing on
the dew-covered lawn
unsure what to say
or do like a lamb
just dropped
just born.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 2:28 AM UTC
On the seventh day we paid the rent
and what was meant for food
gave us one more week to brood on inequality and the inferiority of our position.
One condition we stipulate,is not to tempt the hand of fate or providence
and not paying rent would surely dent the image that we try to make
and though it breaks my heart to part with nine and six a week
and even if I know the landlord's got a bleedin' cheek to charge this much
I touch my forelock and say,
'good morning Sir'.
An air of doom and gloom descends it all depends on what next I say,
will I pay this ghastly fee to keep a roof over Marjorie (the wife) the kids and I
or will I look the landlord in the eye and let him know that he's a thieving crook and intimate that he should go and **** himself and take the rent book too
what do I do but lay the nine and six upon the table with the pale blue rent book and do not say, 'go **** anyone'
me and the missus and kids will stay on for another week while seeking out some other place where barefaced robbery is a crime.
In another time the landlord would be shot his houses all forfeit
but today that rotten toff has got it all, it's like a noose tied round my neck,a millstone that drags me by the ***** and puts me down
I ought to push that bad lot in the 'cut' and let the baftard drown,
and I said nothing, not a sound escaped my lips
the class system trips me up and weighs me in and while I drink a bottle of sour milk he drinks Geneva gin.
Poor people and peasants never win
the odds are bent in favour of more rent and that rotten sod will nod and shake his head
I'd wish him dead but that's another sin
and like I said,
poor people and peasants never win.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
.
The oceans are dying,
Coral reefs are bleached,
Ghostly acidic in the seas,
Climate is changing, not for Nero,
But for subjects who wait in whirlwinds
Eye, underneath uncapped mountain peaks,
And water is draining underground. Where is
Reason, where is sense uncommon? Not with
Elected hands who are wringing to lords of zero,
Whose legions are sent off, engaged in foreign wars,
To scathe, faraway dramas brought back home,
Politicians squabble, as they reel, cashing in,
Seals of unapprovals, witness hollow, low rings,
Infrastructure crumbles, above our dry heads,
And Nero plays his fiddle, in a land of perky dead,
John Lennon said NYC was in reality the new
Rome, soon set to burn, in a decade or so,
Nero knows, Nero plays, could give a feck'
Humanity is Nero playing his fiery fiddle
There is only one issue of news that matters,
Not bread, or circus, Kardashians, or deflated
Footballs, it is our survival, the earth, heating up,
Is angry and we are small, deaf, blind and numb,
A mankind of fools with Nero playing his fiddle.
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 6:07 PM UTC
Martha Maguire's mother
entered her daughter's bedroom
her daughter was asleep
in the bed
Martha what's the statute
of Our Blessed Lord
doing in your bed?
Martha woke up
bleary-eyed
hair matted
what?
she muttered
the statue
what's it doing
in your bed?
Martha looked around
at the Sacred Heart
of Jesus statue
beside her
on her pillow
**** me
how'd that get there?
she muttered
language Martha
in front of Our Lord
sorry Jesus
Martha said
nodding to the statue
and moving away
from Him carefully
so He didn't
fall side wards
into the bed
what's it doing there?
it's the Crucified
I know who it is
I asked you
what it is doing
in your bed?
I got lonely
and had no one
to talk with
Martha said
you can talk with Jesus
without having Him
in your bed beside you
it's not decent
what would the priest
have to say about that
I don't know
her mother said
Martha moved
to the side of the bed
can you go now Ma
I want to wash and dress
for school
you've nothing
I've not seen before Martha
a few things
have developed since
you saw me
in the bathroom last Ma
Martha said
waiting
for her mother to go
if your Da heard
how you speak
he'd slap your backside
so he would
the last time Da
saw me backside
it had talcum powder on it
and a ****** *****
Martha said
her mother
raised her eyebrows
and sighed
and walked out
of the room
and closed the door
sorry about that Lord
she said
to the Crucified's statue
Ma has no sense of privacy
she moved off
the bed carefully
and pulled the sheet
and blanket
over the statue
and patted the head
the head of the statue
peeped over
the blanket at her
won't be long
just going for a wash
and clean and brush
me hair Lord
she said
she gathered up
her towel and flannel
and giving the statue
one last look
she went out
of her bedroom
and walked across
to the bathroom
and closed the door
she removed her nightie
and dropped it
to the floor
and stood there
gazing in the mirror
in her *******
and bra
musing softly
there's no sense
of privacy
with Ma.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 2:06 AM UTC
Rosary
*********
Martha sits
in the church
eyeing up
the young priest
who's just come
tall and thin
and dark haired
in the front
pew praying
she watches
no longer
*********
the dark beads
getting up
from her pew
she walks down
to the priest
kneeling there
taps his black
cloth shoulder
excuse me
Father Bede
(she'd heard his
name mentioned
in the school)
the young priest
opens his eyes
stares at her
(he's nice eyes
she muses)
what is it
my young child?
the priest asks
sitting back
on the seat
Martha sits
beside him
do you know
just how tall
the Christ was?
she asks him
the tall priest
looks at her
looking for
a punchline
some meaning
no idea
probably
6 foot so
he tells her
quite tall then
she mutters
tall as me
no taller
he informs
her priestly
and had beard
and moustache?
she asks him
he studies
her two eyes
soul's mirrors
he's been told
probably
black and long
he tells her
why'd you ask?
he asks her
I'm to be
when older
one of his
many brides
Martha says
I love Him
think of Him
all the time
Father Bede
lends a smile
o that's good
(wondering
to himself
if the girl's
the full pack)
but do I
if some prat
of a boy
asks for ***
tell him to
go **** off?
she utters
sincerely
Father Bede
blushes so
puts the word
from his ears
best he can
remain pure
for Our Lord
as His bride
he informs
red in face
so I will
Martha says
and walks off
swaying hips
the thin priest
watches her
walk away
red faced still.
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
All we get is rhetoric,they're just gobbing off and I'm sick of it
we ought to send the ****** lot down the pit
I'm so frustrated I could spit.
They're bearing down on me in Downing street, building
high rise homes but
tearing down the street where I grew up,it
makes me want to throw up,show up with a deputation to
state the case for conservation,but they never listen to the likes
of me,
that's democracy,a bunch of scheming hypocrites sitting in their leather seats and tearing down my ****** streets,the ones where I grew up.
Well,
**** me, fracking's got to be the only saving grace I see,they say they'll frack far,far below,
ha,
so
them ******** at the top will be the first to know
when the whole world falls apart and
the last to bleedin' go.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
Comments to cut in,to but in and blank empty spaces where faces should be
and what does it mean?
**** all to me.
Say what you want and do what you will
but until you have walked in my shoes,
just lose yourself in the crowd,
choose the words to use and if you can't use them wisely,don't use them,
and what are they worth?
**** all.
And if you don't say it clear,say it loud,come out from the shadows and put faces to names,
then it's all games.
A run around,a turn about to disappear into the space you seem to fear,
and me,
well
I'm not here,I'm just some
writing on a wall
worth less than ****** all,
should I care to worry or to fret?
my bet is no.
It will go on until it stops, until my ears pop and my heart implodes and my eyes end up at the end of my nose,
but then I'll see
and I'll see what it all meant to me
which is not much,
a touch of ink,a link to a site,a waiting through night 'til the morning flies in,a pain in the arse,a bit of a farce
but continue I will.
And time can do handstands or stay still, I don't really care because it's not me that's there,
I'm off on my jaunts to old places,new haunts and I couldn't give a fiddlers elbow whether you come or you decide to go,
whether you read me or not.
But
this is me
this is what I've got,
which is a *** to **** in and an ear to listen,
get used to it
or not.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
I pod I phone I couldn't give a toss
Android or Google it makes me so cross
Jumpers with puddings antlers and bells
No ****** turkeys so fights at M and S
Away in a manger?
More like with the fairys!
Mummys half cut with the pre Xmas sherry
Dads bursting out of a suit that's too small
For a couple of kids who deserve **** all!
Santas naughty list is totally ignored
Hundreds are spent to hype it up more
Excess in all and no idea of why
Christmas is lost and the meaning a lie
Gifts for a newborn became a flat screen TV
The Christmas works party
***** or VD
It's Christmas yelled out by Slade and Roy Wood
Danced to by drunkards who hope for some luck
It's over next morning with socks and lynx
Do all women think we're barefoot and stink?
So love to you all and peace on earth
Haven't you heard a ****** gave birth?
Her dad was unknown the father quite odd
Talked like a ****** to some guy called god
She was probably spaced out on Lebanese red
Thought that an angel had been in her bed!
So drink up my friends and remember one thing
It's Christmas tomorrow the birth of the king.
So off to the church and pretend to be good
And full of good cheer
And back to hatred for the rest of the year
Were bombing the ***** out of the Holy Lands
The points been missed
We're all ******
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
Bill knows all about
Black ops; he’s been
Involved in many; hush
Hush stuff. Knew about
The JFK ***** Watch
Your back, Bill, old
Friends said; now most
Are dead, but Bill’s still
Around, keeping his nose
Clean, his eyes keen, his
Brain alert. He knows
Things are going on; he
Reads the news, hears
Politician’s doublespeak,
Reads between the lines.
His mother bathed his
Grazed knees, kissed
His bruises, covered up
His lies, prayed for him.
Never understood him
Not even on her last day.
He visited her in hospital,
But wouldn’t stay; said it
Was best for both of them
That way. The American
Dream; what a laugh, he
Muses, standing in the
Doorway, watching for
The cab, remembering
Mexico, the dark ops
There, the way it went.
Nice place that, except
For the reasons sent.
He knew headlines
Were falsified; lies
Were spread. Knew
Why Kennedy got it
In the head. Years pass
By, he sighs, most people
Forget. New ops arrive,
Word sent, politicians
Bought up and out and
Spent. Could have been
Some one, Bill, his father
Often said, could have made
The grade, been at the top,
Crème de la crème. **** that,
Bill said, don’t want to be
Part of that sick scene, don’t
Want to be a sadshit like them.
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 4:18 AM UTC
Nuala opens
the front door
sees Brian sitting
in his armchair
drinking a beer
smoking a cigarette
without the TV on
which is rare
you're home early
she says
entering the lounge
looking at him
brooding over
his can of beer
where'd you go?
he says
looking at her
went shopping
in town
she replies
I told you where
I was going
she sits on the sofa
uncertain
of his questioning
a mood behind it
who'd you see?
he asks
people
and shoppers
why?
she says
you saw her
didn't you?
he says
who do you mean?
she says
your friend Una
he says
Nuala blushes
naturally
before she
can try
to control it
o yes
I bumped into her
while shopping
Nuala replies
her mind panicking
why'd you kiss her?
he asks
his eyes studying
her features
kiss her?
she says
yes you kissed her
he says
women do kiss
each other
as friends
she says
on the lips?
he says
how'd you know
where I kissed her?
Nuala stands up
walks to the window
looks out
I followed you
into town
saw you both
you went off
with her
to some bedsit
and went in
he says coldly
what'd you do there?
she gazes
at the passing
people below
at the passing traffic
why'd you
follow me for?
a game at first
I was going
to surprise you
in the shops
but then
you met her
and I followed
he says
hardness
in the tone
she turns
gazes at him
what did you do
while in her bedsit?
we had coffee
and a talk
Nuala looks
away from him
stares at the people
outside again
you were there
too long just to talk
and have coffee
he says
what are you
suggesting?
she says
acting offended
gazing
back at him
something weird
going on
with you
and her
he says
they stare
at each other
a silence comes
between them
all right then
I love her
we've made love
for months now
Nuala says
her voice shaky
he reddens
and opens
his mouth
to say something
but nothing comes
**** off
to her then
get your stuff
and go
he says
after a few moments
reflecting
she looks at him
her world beginning
to unfold
and fall apart
as if someone
had pierced
her betraying heart.
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 1:45 AM UTC
Miriam and I
were sitting next
to each other
on the coach
through Paris
she laid her head
on my shoulder
it was night
lit up by the City's lights
have you heard
of Kant's moral argument?
I asked her
who the **** is Kant?
she said looking
up at me through
half-open eyes
German philosopher
I said
he said that that if
moral behaviour is rational
then moral behaviour
can only be rational
if justice will be done
and justice can only be done
if Gods exists
therefore God exists
she sighed
so if God doesn't exist
then moral behaviour
is not rational?
she said
is that what he means?
I guess so
I said
she closed her eyes
and I looked at her
red hair curly and wavy
and planted a kiss
on her head
a Beethoven piano concerto
was playing over
the coach radio speakers
soft slow movement
the keyboard being tinkled
by some one's fingers
I looked down at her
lying there
her tee-shirt gapped
and I saw the crevice
between her small *******
her small hands
in her lap
I lay my head
on her head gently
and closed my eyes too
what else could
a sleepy guy do?
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 9:33 AM UTC
Y'know if ever I was on a TV show
And the guy was gonna introduce me as 'a Poet'
I'd tell him No! **** No!! They'd all switch off... immediately
Or flee to another TV channel...quick!!!
You'd wanna introduce me instead as the person who was definitely 'not a Poet'
Call me a writer or somethin' else
Tell them, this guy he's OK, yea he's alright
Definitely 'not a Poet'.
'Cos I can remember being taught poetry at school as a kid
How it scarred a lot of us
You'd be given a poem to learn off by heart in one single night
And of course you'd never be able to do that
You'd need at least two nights
So you'd be up all night trying to learn the ****** thing
And you'd be thinking to yourself "surely this Poetry it's an Evil thing
Some strange grown up guy's peculiar words
That don't make any sense to me".
And so you'd go off to school the next day dreading it
And then you'd be called upon to recite the thing
You'd stand up and immediately be distracted by everyone's eyes fixed on you
And also by the teacher's withering look
You'd stumble through some of the words, then you'd lose your place, get stuck
You'd flounder about, look lost and panicky... Then you'd lower your eyes...you'd give up.
Then the teacher would humiliate you in front of the whole class.
Yea, Poetry was a ***** word to me as a kid
And to a lot of other kids besides (I bet)
It ought to have been hauled up before a Crimes against humanity Court.
Oct 3, 2023
Oct 3, 2023 at 5:29 PM UTC
Mary's father is sitting
in the lounge reading
a newspaper before dinner
Mary comes into the room
and sits in the armchair
by the window
and peers out
her father lowers
the newspaper
there's talk of you
from the nuns
he says
she turns and looks at him
is there
good I hope
she says
no it's not
he says
o well there you are Da
you can't please all
of the people
all of the time
never the time
with you it seems
with the nuns
he says
he shakes out
the newspaper
making noise
what's it this time?
she says
sitting back
in the armchair
letting her backside comfy
words you've said
he says
raising the paper
and peering over the top
what words?
I speak civil
and I answer
the **** questions
about God
and the religion
and maths etc.
what word is this?
she says
he sighs
wishes she were
a young little girl still
not some 14 year old
know it all
with a mouth on her
he lowers the paper
and takes out a letter
from his waistcoat pocket
(slightly ******* up)
and offers it to her
here read it yourself
he says
she leans out of the chair
and takes the letter
from his hand
and sits back down again
and unfolds the letter
and reads
he lifts the newspaper
and reads a sports page
I never did
Mary says
never in my precious
to Christ life have I said that
she reads on
staring at the page
as if it had criticized her
(which it did)
they're like
the fecking Gestapo
she mutters
I was not kissing Magdalene
I was whispering
something to her
Mary mutters to the page
(and her father
if he was listening)
and I never did
call Sister Clare
a ****** waster
Mary muttered on
then she refolds the letter
and puts it
on the arm of the chair
and gazes at her father
well?
he says
what have you to say
for yourself?
she gazes at him
once he'd have
tanned her behind
and sent to bed without dinner
but he'd gone soft
on her since
she'd grown ****
and tried negotiation instead
what's for dinner?
she says
wait and see
he says
so what about the contents
of the good nun's letter?
he says
it was one of those days
she says
womanly things
gets to me
her father lifts
the newspaper
and says tiredly
I see.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 2:49 AM UTC
After The Break Up (Part 2)
I just got back from a cool party.
I had so much fun with my mateys.
Why should i get involved with any kinds of romance?
Only to turn me down and try my patience?
I am so happy this way.
No more teary eyes as a give-away.
I don't need to change anything about my life.
Simply being myself makes me feel so alive.
As i start to get ready for bed i think to myself 'a resolution to open a new page'.
As i lay me down in bed suddenly a very weak scent that i know fills the room.
A scent that makes my heart stop beating so gloom.
No!!!! I scream! Oh God please no!!!!
I'm just about to open a new page of my life!!!!!!
There it is!!!!!! On the window-ledge!!!!!
An empty bottle of perfume that still emits its fragrance!!!!
Your perfume!!!!!
The one you wore that ****** night you dumped me......left me!!!!!
I thought i had got rid of all your ****** stuffs.
**** I am just about to get over you and the pain you've caused me!!!!!!
You feckin' *****
Feeling like i've just been shot in the head i take the gun i stole from my friend and without thinking twice i pull the trigger.......
BAAAAAAAANNNNNNNGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!
....................
Just like that......
That easy......
Really....
Hurt so much makes you go that far...
Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 4:42 PM UTC
Now I'm just the actor
But once
Yes once
I was the biggest malefactor you would never wish to meet.
Down my street
Where the sun did not shine
And what may have been yours, so quickly was mine
Where even the clock did not tick.
Life was cheap,life was sick.
The choices in my head
The voices that spoke loud and said,
**** em.
Real gems of wisdom from the walking dead.
Fed and feeding on the endless needing
Where the night's are weeding out the dross
Didn't give a monkey's or a toss.
**** em.
She beckoned me.
She beckoned me here and like a demanding lover
She led me to gear.
Fear knows the chains
Has felt more of the pains that I'll ever know.
Taking it slow now
Kicked out the lover how
She whined
Chimed in with taunts.
Undaunted I carried on
Now that old lover's gone and I am not.
The plot seems to thicken
Between the devil and the deep
The minutes appear to quicken
But time stays the same
Trapped in a pearl picture frame in a locket.
It's in my pocket with the shreds of the past
At last.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 9:28 AM UTC
Ian rules the skies, or so he thinks.
He sweeps, swoops and flies.
Ian flies high, but often sinks.
This chimp thinks he is a master of the skies.
Wind strong, gusty and more east.
#Ianthechimp eyes up his strong launch stance.
Paragliding wing is placed in full view of the beast.
The beast, the east, sees his chance.
With gusto, malice and a cheeky blast.
The east wind has no regret.
Ian, launch, lifted as he is turned fast.
Words wafted up high ... OH ****
A wild swing as the chimp holds rake.
The beastly east tries some more.
One eye closed, Ian applies brake.
East is beaten, Ian is secure.
Yet the east, the beast, lies at height wait.
Ian climbs out of Cayton Bay.
The wind is hiding high with lifty bait.
Ian takes the leaving line, refusing to stay.
The beast announces himself with malice.
Ian regrets his cross country aim.
Losing speed and height palace.
Reach for Filey Brigg, or run without shame.
Turn, aim home and fly fast.
The beast has one more trick.
Return to the bay with turn last.
He hits the paraglider like a brick.
Wobble, rotor, accelerated flight.
A return to the safety of the bay.
To land on top would cause fright.
****** that Ian, beach landing with obey.
What have we learnt about the beastly east.
With its mean, malice and playful unfun.
Don't challenge, else decease.
Play in the air, climb and top land shun.
Sep 23, 2020
Sep 23, 2020 at 6:27 PM UTC