I know you're a bunch of fukin poets
I know you're broken fukin hearted
I know you're questin fukin evrythn
I know you're  'bout fukin sure of something
if we'd just listen

what fukin what then eh
we listened we read we cried
ah my life has changed thank you

maybe we even became crude
a suspicious word i say
an opinion and all those are
useless except the playful ones

I built me a yellowish
statue of you
out of last nights curry
and the cheese fondue.

Your *** was madras
your **** vindaloo
and stilton is what
yer built on.

WHOOP DE FUKIN DOO !!!!!,

i kind of just wish
that i could be alive somewhere else
in another time zone
i dunno why the tears come to my eyes
or why i have to fake it day after day
to win some sort of
fake prize
that fails to materialize
doesn't even bring me to where i need to be
it's my demise
i grasp
and cannot feel
cannot understand
what it is
that it is real
i just want to feel like i used to feel
when i was a kid
and happiness was real
content
knowing
that i'd go to heaven
and i have nothing to worry about
now
all i have
are my dreams and aspirations
friends and family
keep me healthy
active
alive
but without them
i don't think i'd keep plugging in
don't think i'd like to keep living
i'd want to have some other sort of special feeling
i feel like depression is back
rearing its head
in my face
i'm on the couch
it's dark
but through the window
things are looking out
looking in
showing me
that i'm hallucinating
and contemplating
about killing myself
i'll never do it
but i just want to live
i just to overcome
i want to be successful
this is the hardest struggle i've ever been
in
i want peace
but every time i get it
it goes away
i don't want to feel this way
cigarette after cigarette
looking off in the distance
my mind blown
smoke so much ****
to ease the pain
but it just goes away
it fukin goes away
:(
:(
and **** everybody else
who didn't want to hang out with me
my friends left me
and i become
so sad
depression
is something i've had my whole life
i just now realized this
tonight

No one gets the credit
that they're due
not me nor you
it's a fukin zoo out there

I think Bernardo Soares
shares my view on this,
you can kiss goodbye to the
how, where and why
and get used to the
red line through
everything that you do
a fukin zoo.

No one told me when
the World turned upside down
I was so busy spinning
my frown was still a frown
and thus it was,

and now I have a shotgun
and
rotgut for my friend
the end will come
and it
will come for you
it's all the same
in the fukin zoo.

Withdraw your labour
fuel the fires?
it
all tires me out.

I wanna set the world on fire
instead I puff to get higher
shift,  flip,  switch,  bam
I don't even give a ****
enraged
im caged
hello chemical monster, where'd you come from
5 seconds ago I was totally numb
slam my brain into the wall.
Im just waiting for the downfall
irrational
theatrical
I wanna bleed myself dry
or bust open and ******* cry
its like im against myself today
don't even have the words to say
what the **** are you doing to me
I just want to be free
they spazz cause my smiles gone
ask me what in life is wrong
I don't know. I don't care
I just feel . life's not fair

Im tired if this ****
Im tired of you always pushing me away
Your making me hate you more everyday
I want to treat you the way you treat me each day
I tell myself in my head whenever he wants to be lovey dovey
Imma send him to the curve like he has done to me all this years
He acts like he is to bomb for me
Please you need to fall from that cloud 9
If you are rated your probably like a 1
That fuking attitude you carry kills everything you are
Im done begging you
Im done doing everything you want
And not getting anything in return
From now on whenever you want love
You should start asking your fukin hand

The great con moves along
tent city's not gone
it's just moved around the corner
where your eye does not see it.

A brave new world indeed
they
feed us on ******* expecting respect
and say,
it's all hunky dory,
well
they Fukin bore me.

We're worse off now than we've ever been
'cept for the queen
she's just as rich as can be while
we got tents on the side streets
rough sleepers in the malls
and employers pleading poverty
what a load of *****.

A standard of living is giving
not taking, not stealing by dealing
from the bottom of the pack

what is it we lack?
compassion?
empathy?
no good asking me they've cut
out my tongue
the great con goes on and we are being
silenced
one
by
one
until we too are gone.

To query,
to ask the world weary
was
it worthwhile?
to have a quiet smile and
think we'd have done more,
so ******' easy.

So fukin' do it
get off your arses and show me

ah
but I fukin' knew it,
you're full of **** and orange juice

what's the use
what's the use.

I'm confused unlike you
who seem to know precisely
what to do

I never knew and if I did
I've forgotten how
but
I have lived

glued on bits that fell
made a shell in
which to hide
came out and
tried
and failed and tried
and lived
while others died
and
you with the quiet smile
couldn't walk a yard never mind
a mile in my shoes.

Could I have done more?
probably
could I have lived more?
definitely and
knowing this makes
me infinitely
more grateful
that I am what you see,
that I am to be me

faulty
but worthy of fixing.

why did i lick the stick
sometimes i act like a *****
da stick was covered in ****
i should die in a pit
i just ate some fukin deek
oo want da regge stick
yes, you can **** in the pit
dont spit your avocado pit
even though its covered in ****
put the letter in the slit
before you send it give it a lick
nick, what are you doing here
im writing a poem leave me alone
go play your stupid trombone
*******

.
We might as well be
shearing sheep
instead of sweating over
things we want to change,
but want to keep


it's
in fukin sane and
that's like being
in fukin London.

the poet a
complicated halfwit
tails off into a distance
that was never there
and shares a memory,

Paul, an old friend was
diagnosed with something terminal
and his end was nigh,
he flew off to Spain
and said,
'if this is life
I'm not doing it again'
but
he died in
Bromley by Bow
I know
I was there.

We're all sleepers
frightened of bogeymen.

What is it that stops You
from smashing them windows?
is it the old biddy who watches
everything and will tell your
Ma it was you?
that she saw you?


You're either class acts or
brass tacks
it's in the way you take
the breakage
that defines you
and not
the last thing you see
before
the night closes in,

remember when you're
shearing sheep
you are just looking
at chaos in
the cosmos and there's
**** all you
can do about that.

Someone put a sock in it
a
right old writers block on it
and I am fukin sick of it
I think I'm going to paint.

This ain't no picnic party
but I bet you'd like to
start me
on a drop of mothers ruin

I'll be ****** if I took one drink
so I'll drink a flaming hat full
it's so easy being spiteful
when you're three sheets
to the wind.

And then
what happens to me
are the links of chains run through me
and I forge a new opinion

if only
and another

and
if only is the other side of sixpence that we toss.

Then I tried to paint the candlelight,
believe me
it's much easier to
sit and write.

..yeah..
   ..so..i'm
          cuckoo..
..crazy..insane..skitso..

               ..imbecile..******..

           ..big deal..

every ****** on this god forsaken planet
                     ..are..              
         ..insane..

everyone's controlled..
      
                ..by they're own EGO
                            ..and the one thing
               that  
                                 separate's me
                from them..
              
                       ..are..
                                   ..in it's simplicity..
          
                                     ..i
                            just say it
                        out loud..

              ..& not be embarrassed
                                by it's existence..

            ..and the happy fact..
               ..is..
                           ..that you can't
           never get a ride off
                          this blessing..

     & the funny part
              is
         that the largest
                              percent

            sees as a curse..

                      ..why to whip your
                  divinity
  under
           the fukin' rug..
        
   &
            the GOD is insanest  
               of all..

what other
      would explain IT'S
         continuous change of heart..

with fukin' everything..
           ..us too

            .. & remember..
                     we should be HIS image..
                                  
             ..that's the gift of life..
      .. & that
                     too

                many forget's..
                                
and just
     continue 7 to 3 drama..

              ..they're loss..

i ain't never been envy to other's
             or no one..

                ..'cause this gift
                          ..is way too short to
           lose my energy
                  to other's
                           thought's..

sorry..

'peace in our time'
well
I'll believe that when the fat lady sings
when the liberty bell rings
when freedom brings me back home.
I see David and Goliath in rehearsals for riots and the river's on fire yet again.
God has gone to the Lebanon and he's taking a break
even he cannot take too much more
and as Moses reposes on tablets of stone waiting for his children to awake and atone
Beelzebub rubs his clawed hands in glee as he lights up the furnaces for the dead he will see,
very soon
under a biblical moon on a biblical plain
real people are feeling unbiblical pain
what a fukin state of play.
when we were kids if we didn't play fair we had to stand in the corner and that wasn't fair but it was right.We didn't fight it was wrong,the strong generally win in order to pin one more star on the map,what absolute crap we are grown now and should have learnt how to co-exist,but
it's just a ******* contest,a man thing and collateral damage doesn't mean a **** thing.
The King of Kings doesn't intervene and personally I find that oddly obscene,let him take his break in the Lebanon and when he returns maybe the problem will have gone,
somehow I doubt that and I doubt that I'll hear the fat lady sing or the liberty bell ring
there's too much money involved to solve this.

When the last of the daylight kisses the feet of the moon and night becomes the dawn of the rising,surprised I awake on the lakeside of sorrow where tomorrow sheds tears for the time allows nothing to stand,
I obey laws of physics though consult with the mystics and the doyens of the beer hall only watch as I call to my maker, thief taker,partaker in ******,to **** dead the silence that roars in my ears.

At the bottom of this glass sits the truth that I search for,but as I reach the finale I find only the floor,it's like the dawn of the rising and no less surprising to me.

If I talk with the shadows that shiver in the doorway,they only say to me, 'spare some change for a cup of tea?'
questions that bother me bitterly, I so agree with the Government policy to ignore everything that doesn't look right to me,
and night even more looks surprisingly, like something I wore once on Wednesday.

They say that this madness creeps up on you and the way it attacks is like it's fukin you,as I've never looked back at my retinue I can't tell if the last statement is true or not,
but you've got what I consider to be the utter truth, as I fly downwards and climb to the slate grey roof where the owls there will greet me with beaks set to eat me,
I wake and sleeps beats me again.

We all look for it
whatever it is
all want a piece of it
whatever it is
but
I want none of it
had enough of it
fukin sick of it
whatever it is.

Down in the dungeon
la
la
land
and they're robbing me blind
this is no merry band
no Robin Hood

it
is not good.

You want to wash your hands of me
think you're Pilate?
then set me free
release is the recipe
for happiness.


Tarred and feathered
dyed in the wool
put in a pigeon hole
ready to cull.

When the landscape's pear shaped and
my eyes are red
and I see lead poisoning,
soldiers in my head
I want to fight

it wants to fight too
and you know
it
to be true
don't you?

We can call it today or last week
or seek out another name,
but who loved me in the Bleak?

I ain't talking midwinter nor
the middle of summer
I'm talking back then and
that's the backchat of sad men

these be the lonely
only when will they know?

before it's too late?

I am in denial
Something to do with the
pineal gland?

Fukin grand when you've no idea
if your brain's in your head
or stuffed up your rear.

hitched me a ride on the right side of
the ebb tide
things are looking
better now.

You hate the sound of your own voice
Too manic to make a ******’ choice
Trapped in your head
Can’t get out of  bed
Cold like you’re dead
You don’t know what you want
Jealous of the girls and how they flaunt
You want to be just like that
But you think you’re too fat
So you try to be zef
Scared to tell people you’re a little more than deaf
A little thought like this
Is death’s sweet kiss
Comatose for hours
Fretting and crying
Scorching hot showers
Sick of denying
You hate your own existence
Wish you could stop the resistance
Stop Hell’s persistence
Reach for social assistance
Hiding away in sleep
Wishing dream boys would keep
Scared by your daddy
Fukin stuck way back then
Tellin’ yourself you a fatty
Meditating-you think you’re so ******* zen
But you’re throwing things
And screaming sins
And sawing down your wings
Pretending you’re wearing different skins
Just to cope
With having no hope
You’ll ever get better
You’ve made your own fetter
And you have no ****** idea
How to live as a whole human
Shaky hands never made a stria
Permanently in ruin
An evercrashing mistake
You feel there’s so much at stake
You don’t know where to begin
So you just stand so ****** still
Spending every day ill
Wishing someone would touch your cold hand
And finally understand
That when it comes to this blockage
You’re an already dead hostage.

She asked me, 'was I up for it?'
and I wondered
if that was a bit
too much
but
there is a touch that electrifies
a touch to open up my eyes
and
she was a fukin big surprise
to me.

.














                                            




­







                                              SO.me um sum *******

                                                uff ruff ******* so
                                                polished; leashed
                                                IN

     ­                                                      your
                                               spread your *******
                                               mouth
                                               let's (wider)
                                               hard i'm
                                               going
                                                         to

                                               so those
                                               fukin
                                               take em off
                                               satin white
                                               little littles
                                               ,
                                               ****(do you like it when

                                                i "yes
                                                ))))        ­       please

                                                please


­                                                 "hurt me
                                                  into apart teeth .   teeth
                                                  fingers inside

                                                  inside tongue
                                                  tonguing­ little
                                                  rrufff stubble

                                                  neck neck:

                                                  throat.
­
                                                  Gag.

Northern line,
Archway to the city
hope
I get there on time
for the Central line
heading East
leastways
that what it says
on the destination
marker,

most days
it's right, but
I take nothing for granted.

Sunday was my day to fly day
now it's something to try
and get by day

It's **** getting old

feels like I'm fading away
nobody sees me
my destination board
reads
out of service.

Just a blip on the radar

I'm sweeping the dial
finding the files.

Next time
no northern or central to
drive me
fukin' mental

no line next time at all.

Sprawled out like I just crawled out of the gutter,
wasted
what a fukin state,
can't wait
'til I do it again.

Look, its poached, or fukin fried.

Its either, or,
there ain't no more,
tertiary options, out de door.

Not certain
About the order
may be the wine
comes first

It is the singing
that brings this smile
this impossible
not to smile

I listen to Susan Boyle
sing Wild Horses
Find lyrics
Find Stones recording

Split screen
Stones singing
Lyrics
Cast to speaker

Sing
Myself silly
in wonder
at the words

What they meant
at sixteen
and what they mean
now

<now-That fukin' thing again>

and this joy
Wild Wild Horses
Couldn't drag me away
from now



Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

..this a little odd words
from these lips..oditary
2 myself 2..well..maybe u can see it..
maybe not..
       ..i don't give flyin' ****..

..cleaning..OK..it's easy
if you can start it..
          
           ..then u even wanna clean your neighbor house at
                                  the same  cost..

..but starting..

         ..every fu**in' thing is like invitation to **** yourself..

..but after it all you feel so fukin' fantastic..
                  ..top of the world..

but there's a point too in here..
                    ..but the hairball's are like people
        ..fighting back with every living soul
                        2 not 2 go at  the dumster..sewer..etc..
  
        ..so that's why i'm all most certain of divinity..
             ..The Big Book says: GOD made man to his image..

                         ..so there it is in black and white..

                                          ..divine germs..

( i just washed and cleaned my bathroom and SAUNA..6
it all came to me from this hairball going to the sewer
in stream..)

..yeah..i know..

There's never enough of it
for getting your '**** together'
for
forgetting.

time's just a hustler
making a buck

down on my luck
no grubstake
my bones ache
for Christs sake

I need to break with tradition
use live ammunition
no blanks
and no fukin thanks when
there were

Start blasting away
blast at today and every
other day that ends in a
why,

but as slick as I am
time's much quicker than the eye of this man

and the plan if it was a plan is hogtied

I tried to get my '**** together'
and whether that expression's
American or not
It's just a crock

the click of the hammer's like the click of the clock
both **** you in the end.

many a time we played
in the public bar
of the
Fox and Duck
and as luck would have it
I won
on more than one occasion.

Now they want to shove me
in some geriatric
home away from home
with old people
they can push off
I'm staying put.

Push me pull me
lull me into a false sense
of security and then what?

I need Adrenalin
not mollycoddling.

The nanny state can fukin wait
I'm playing truant.

..my word'
s are gounted..

                  ..'cause of
this
           fukin' computer..

..it slip and slides trough subject..

..no grammar..        &
               ..more than church..

more than all ..
              and
      no one..
 
 ..after all
what DO you know..

cheers..
               lady's and gent'...

more of us..
                   ...more all ways..
there's more ways
                    
                                       ­     ..right there..

            right there..

                     ..thanks..

..poem is a poverty..
         ..godliness..mess up mind..
      ..down under..fukin' Satan..
                 ..kissing god hairy ***..

                ..poem come's from weakness and despair..
                                        ..just a few word bind to infinity..

                  ..there's a joke in poetry..
                                        ..no one really get's it..

                    ..Bukowski was the greatest clown ..
                                            ..or was he..

                            ..alkoholisticshiteatinnarsist..

                                    ..& chauvinist  big..

               ..and love him to the death..

                                        ..joke's on you mothaf*a..

               ..keep the words flowing..u wimps..

(20 minute poetry)


If we survive
it is due to
personal drive
but what does it mean?


As I recall
I've seen dynasty's fall
only to rise
making lies of it all.

In this underground
I wander round
I wonder
what
it's all about.

Here are the people
with
blank faces that stare
into emptier places
with chassis that move them
from here unto there when
they're not
where anything counts.

Trapped on the straps
that hang from the ceiling
I have a feeling
it's been like this for years
and when I am gone
when I am done hanging on
another
will come along.

The metronome swings
as I pick at these strings
like I pick over the scabs
of this life.


Mobile.

We can call it smart
(at a push)
play candy crush
what a fukin waste.

No one laughs in Altrincham
they can't afford the gas.

Someone turn the lights back on
buy one get a free coupon
I pop
down the co-op
but I'm on my own
that sets the tone for the day,

It's pm,
dm me right away
fukin youth today get
everything in easy text,
back in my day
there was one way,
talk.

And I hate it when it's time for bed
when I'm not ready, said he,
she said, never mind
as she knew what was on my mind
and that's it until the sun comes up
on a bright new day

unless I dream.

I was lost before SPG, I
could never read the spam,
when was at school.

NAVAN in County Meath
Ireland was the only place
in the country that made sense.

Before spell check was invented,
my writing was scrambled and
many of my compositions were
back words, the teacher told my
parents that I was a stupid fukin eejit.

Nowadays  they try to make us seem
a bit more intelligent by saying we suffer
from palindromic dyslexsickia, which
basically means you are a Neo ****.

Sp.

But you always get your SWASTIKAS
the wrong way round.

..no surface..just gruel notification..just a feeling from the true and all the lie's that go with it..

..poetry..yeah..great..**** me..

            ..there's never enough fukin to make  this..      
   ...place better and worse..
           ..smile and you die..

..please somebody stand 4 me....this is not going anywhere..3 try's to give a world a word..but..
     ..technology **** it all up..free mind & spirit..
             ..but not this fukin world..

               ...free ain't free..

          ..it's jail of of this destruction..

         ..yeah in peace..

               ..or in PEACE..

Relieves stubborn aches and pains.

(20 minute poetry)

It feels like there's a bolt in my back and some crazy nut's tightening the nut
it may be a fancy but I fancy it's not,
some nut's definitely got
it in for me

Anyhow this pain will pass as most pains do
if I sit and chew on
Panadol.

They said I can't use that registered name
so I told them,
tell me that one again,
more pain
more Panadol
and for a while I smile
pain and Panadol free.

It's home time on the Central line,
Cerebral,
but fukin feral cats earlier in the day

I sway to the movements of the tube on the track
and the pig of a pain comes back.