"gormless" poems
I rolled my own tobacco tightly, lips pursed through a gormless grin,
As he, the idle Gean Canach, warming up, kisses a lonesome gin,
This dream as told to be his tonic - the bitter slice - so I begin...
Musing over beauty, his admirable hair, warholic an' fitted to wear,
Of Tartan-clad men whose ghosts have chequered stares,
An' Art, Free Speech, Faith, dipped in batter - much to his despair,
Of people, prickened purple as they blow a silent whistle,
To how the sun beams through heather-fields of shared pistols,
An' those scattered morsels of society, left to nothing but the gristle,
To how more questions than answers affect his whispered speech,
Yet he stirs mulling over youth and language receded to their peak,
'...Come, I'll walk you back to your hiding place – safely out of reach...!'
Back home to talk of MacDiarmid and McFarlan, to agree and feel solemn,
As he explains that a poisoned bee carries but only poisoning pollen,
An' how a love of our country, for its freedom, is all we have in common,
He tells of the tears from the Nationalist, nation-less, who lives in arrears,
Of the ink further dried on the receipt of forced union; of some 400 years,
An' that of my friend the leprechaun; ****** on the burnt grass that he shears,
An' now he exclaims - '… Swallow the pound..! Gulp on its hardened flesh...,
...We are as separate - the reluctant strawberry atop this eton mess...,
The majesty of our homes, as one, forever in a state of undress,
...We shall squander fortunes on entire pleasures dear to empty minds,
The resources of our country fixed to the crown with no benefit in kind,
Computerised Tesco's an' ****** at the BBC is all that we will find...'
It is time to take our leave; he has risen sharply an' yet crumbles into a seat,
The fires of the red sun burn for independence with stomping feet,
My dream recited, I wander still, and turn to the fools an' scoundrels on the street.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:11 AM UTC
the pompous one
with her comments
as she slithers by
with
the rudest
of dogs
the confident family;
confident
to a fault
sitting too close
and talking
too loud
the hypocrite
complaining
of the mess
and leaving behind
a scavenger's
detritus
the insecure sage
a font of knowledge
based on
hearsay
and opinion
with only
a pinch
of fact
the innocently gormless
with no thought
for sense
or logic
common or otherwise
but only
for the now
and
the immediate
these are
the passengers
on the
carousel
of frustrations
for today;
replayed
rephrased
resurrected
over
and over
i think
so little
of them
yet
i'm unable
to stop myself
thinking
about them
Apr 22, 2022
Apr 22, 2022 at 8:54 AM UTC
The rainbow fell into the consommé,
the night turned the day and the
cards went my way
it was normal some say in
the madhouse
and then there was work
the foibles, the quirks
the bright sparks
the gormless
the sharks
and while Hawkin's talking of quarks
and quasars
all I get
is quizzical, looks from the
bar staff and waiters.
It's no wonder the soup's getting cold
and less wondering why
because it all seems so old
or could be it's
possibly me.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
Come I’, Sit daahn, Shurrup,
Wor t' fust thin 'a' ah 'eard.
So ah grabbed uz buk fra t' back.
‘n prepared for summa’ absurd
An exam ont’ fust day ah exclaimed!
As uz face exploded wi’ rage
Ah dead eyed ‘im fra across t’ room
‘n reluctantly turned t’ page
T’ year continued like ‘dis,
‘n uz nem appeared ont’ board
‘n ta quote wah’ I’d learnt fra’ uz studies,
Ah felt wretched ‘n abhorred
Tahhm passed by,
‘n 'e 'n class began ta connect.
n suddenly 'a' dislikin,
turned inter respect.
Tahhm went furtha,
as 'e yelled 'n laughed 'n cussed,
‘n suddenly ‘a’ respect,
turned inter complete trust.
‘e’d lern wee randa facts,
‘n sha wee gormless vids.
'e’d respect wee li' adults,
'n nivva' treat wee li' kids.
'n even when ah wor glum,
‘n wasn’t feelin missen,
‘e’d finn' eur way ta use 'is words
ta nurse uz back ta 'ealth.
‘n when 'e sez 'e wor leavin, everybody’s 'eart cried,
We didn’t want ta seh tarreur,
teur t' bloke who’d bin ah guide
Sa t' best we can doa is come togetha,
‘n gatha orl wee folks.
'n wish t' best o' luck ta ah ‘un 'n onny,
Yorksha bloke.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 3:35 PM UTC
Shock firstly
followed by awe
a crow's mocking
caw
as the blouse comes off &
then the bra
tossed now
nonchalantly aside
the flighty flirty skirt
yanked down
and of course the knickers
...follows.
Blouse and skir
leaping over the wall
bra being worn
by an apple tree
the knickers being led up
the garden path.
"Ok..!" I say "...oK!"
"Enough is ENOUGH!"
The wind is in a silly mood.
I chase it chasing me
I trying to catch
the scattered clothes.
The line looking
almost naked.
** ** shouts the wind
enjoying itself immensely.
All that remains toeing the line
are a blue boxers and yellow socks
who have manfully withstood
the wind's assaults.
The wind chanting:
"Get them off..get them off!"
like a drunk punter
at a striptease show.
The wind drops and
drops the stolen items.
The line smiling
with all of its skewed pegs
looking shameful and
gormless
at the wind's
misdemeanour.
"I was only trying it on!"
sulks the wind.
"Trying to get in touch with
my feminine side!"
Knickers in hand
I slam the door
in its protesting
face.
"A cross dressing wind...
....that's all I need!"
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
I sit, motionless, a gormless look across my face.
Mouth open, eyes empty, staring at nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Bored beyond the point of no return,
Just letting eternity slowly, very slowly pass by.
It never does.
The teacher tells us to work, but gives us no indication of how.
You can’t do something with nothing.
The clock hands finally move.
Everyone adjusts their eyes.
I am sure every minute takes at least five.
Awkward silence is disturbed by the occasional passing of a page.
Nobody bothers to show an interest in anything except the time.
I begin to wonder if both my watch and the clock are broken.
Highly unlikely.
Whispers are engulfed by orders of silence.
The hypocritical teacher has an everlasting throat tickle.
The minute hand doesn’t move this time,
For time has finally stopped.
I motionlessly sit, wishing, praying that the silence would be broken.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:30 AM UTC
went to see the seaside
walked about the shore
left a muddy footprint
near everything I saw
thought the view was wonderful
but now it wouldn't be
with a line of mucky boot prints
and a gormless looking me
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 9:17 AM UTC
Cassie babe,
Your eye don't fix onto anything
What's holding your words in?
Painting up above
It seems you've a love for everything
I just haven't seen you grin
Thoughts on edge
Inside instead
Your legs dangle from a ledge
Gormless expression
Inner canvas expression
Not a thing to say
In your mind all day
You know the way it goes
Drifting to
And floating from
Places to spaces
But never really going anywhere
Well nowhere that she'd like to share
With you or me
Pondering elegantly
Elaborating privately
Although
There is no doubt
Your beauty's on show
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
Soft toffee
in wrappers
in a bag
in my hand
just take one
Ingrid looks
at the bag
then at me
they are yours
I can share
no problem
I tell her
she takes one
and untwists
the wrapper
on the sweet
takes it out
and eats it
I watch her
her slightly
protruding
teeth bite through
soft toffee
quite easy
I eat mine
put the bag
of toffees
in my coat
my uncle
gives me sweets
she tells me
if I’m good
and do things
I study
her brown hair
pinned with grips
her brown eyes
looking sad
do what things?
I ask her
she looks down
at her shoes
I can't say
Uncle says
it's secret
between us
the uncle
visits her
at weekends
her old man's
big brother
gormless ***
Jimmy says
who's seen him
in the Square
why secret?
I inquire
cross my heart
hope to die
she replies
wonder why?
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
Look at you all pantsy Fants and dah Dee la
Itching your teeth drying your eyes Wiring Some Cash
and clicking your camara
a baby aimed for the world at large
reformed gormless
and clean for fresh intelligence
Look at you all lancing the breeze and cancer free
Bewitching the trials of your enemies
financed and careering
a duchess with ease
on the leash of some tremendous villainy
Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 8:58 AM UTC
Humphrey sees the dame going
by the door as he’s booking in at
the hotel, for the moment she
seems frozen there as if the gods
had wanted him to get a glimpse
of beauty before she moved on
and back into her life far from his.
He stands there gazing, his eyes
taking in each aspect of her shine:
the hat the shoes, the two piece suit,
the plenty of leg and best of all her
face and the way she was looking
at him. A posh car is waiting outside
the lobby, she stands there her eyes
drinking him in, he ignores the booking
clerk who is talking to him, what is
the **** on about when he has beauty
just outside standing and staring, maybe
waiting for him, waiting for him to go
to her and converse. It’s New York City
1920 and there she is, his Helen of Troy,
she who no doubt could sink a few ships
or break a heart or two, but what to do?
He stands and stares, his mind in a haze,
she moving off and into the car, no time
to think or wave, she’s gone, the car away
along the street, lost in the sea of traffic,
he senses a tear in his heart, an opening
up, a lost chance, beauty fled. The booking
clerk talks, his words like rainfall on a tin
roof, his gormless gaze. Humphrey looks
at the face of the clerk, his dark eyes like
small black pits, Yes, that room will do,
Humphrey says, taking the key, wanting it
over, his day kind of blessed and spoiled,
beauty come and gone, a chance not taken,
a mind messed up, a heart near broken.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 7:15 AM UTC
The need for you burns my skin
The need to see you again draws me
I come to you, but alas for naught
I come to you, but you're attention escapes
You're life book has space for me
You have space, but only as a footnote.
I have been a gormless man,
Ibcome to you but ylwish for another.
My oaken refuge has burned to ash,
The warm breeze has become icy winds
Where has my refuge gone? my safe haven?
Where is this Ronan to go now?
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 12:23 AM UTC
walking away
from
all you
gormless drones
master of my domain
finally
the shackles of
CORRUPTION
melt
away
and
I am truly free
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 12:37 PM UTC
The chief of vessels,
Here he lingers still,
gormless and ruthless,
guilty and ill.
The matriarch will protect you,
courageous and fair.
Swords may dive around and above too,
But she will not flinch, She will not care.
This omen is an old friend,
One we have learnt to disguise ourselves from,
Bonded by blood they may be,
But their blood is cursed and wrong.
A jester jumps entertaining us,
Distract yourself from historys doing,
Whilst the matriarch guards the doorway,
The chief is left to ruin.
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 1:42 PM UTC
He was a brave sailor, venturing into the unknown, with strength and love for the sea he had found. But the waves got too wild, too roaring, and he could not keep sailing. The sea was revolted and kicked him out, despite himself.
I have seen so much
In your arms
But I was too broken
for you to fix me inside
Back to black, the thick spacey air
Around?
You melted the icecaps
You got ventured into a strange ocean
Now the ocean cries for you
Now, sailor, you rush back home
Never trust your brain
It only twists you again and again
My sailor you were
A hint of water in a drought
sailing alone through my heart
Bringing me happiness
I could not handle well
But I am gormless, too froze....
Too stale
What is reality? The tales we tell ourselves
All the times in your bed- so real, so fake
All the love we shared
Too healthy for me to take
It happened.
We loved each other.
We tore together the walls.
How long till the next thaw?
**** my parents, **** myself
**** everything that stood in OUR WAY
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 4:16 AM UTC
Pull up your trousers sonny.
Your looking mighty gormless.
Pointing out honestly, good god you look a mess.
You bottom looks inviting to a wanton wayward, crooked fella.
Looking really silly, I know that I can tell ya.
Don't want to insult you nor to break your heart.
(c)LIVVI
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:59 PM UTC
Where this leads - I don't know
I know it's bound to end - going to end
Someday, we could not last
You'll get tired of my wounds and stuff
The road leads somewhere we don't know
We'll venture and go - like we were fearless
or gormless...
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 5:06 AM UTC
And now come the other men,
The figurines, the foragers
And those who marched
Onward
By the failed evergreen. They
Speak of war grown days,
And times before the land
Was tore. Their voices
Shrouded
By one anothers’ patience, and
Each man carried his scars,
Cradled,
In their shadowed
Limblike arms, they bore
Tear marks
Printed
On their gormless
Salty cheeks, and
Under their heavy
Sullen eyes
Paraded gashes
And stains
Of crimson and bleak.
And now come the other men,
Out of the ovens, rushing
For some safer housing.
It’s all a conundrum, this
Waiting and wavering, an
Uncertainty
Mounted across a ditch
Of slightly burnt
Flesh, men mashed
Into one.
And now come the other men,
An identity shared
Between friends, who bask
In the untimely forgery
Of their postured
end.
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 5:16 PM UTC
What have you become in this hollow space,
You were once somebody,
Once something
But now,
Your words are nothing,
And your face yields nobody.
A sunken man, a man so grated
He has abandoned the joys
Of
Wandering, and
Instead taken sweeter to whining; “why me”
And “why me”.
But these concerns
Never slip from his flakey slim lips, rather
They tumble and tumble
In his heavy limbered skull,
Rattling into one another
Like cheap cream chinos upon a white apron,
Resting and soaked
At the street corner laundrette. Never to dry.
Never to dry.
Emptier
than his pockets. And
Looser than the screws clasped to his spectacle frames.
The lenses are slipping. Vision is ending.
Words are nothing.
And so, passion ceases
As
The walls
Squeeze the last wonder from his
Breath; “why me” and “why us” - “Why do the stars
Dare to shine”.
Alas,
The universe lays gormless, and
Relishes in its own undisputed silence.
Jul 10, 2020
Jul 10, 2020 at 5:31 AM UTC
As we boarded the train
You, with a six pack in you're hand.
I knew that very minute
That our" wedding night was ******
To Dover for our honeymoon.
Oh what a great delight!
My sister said " don't marry him"!
And now I know she's right!
" just got married to day mate"( he shouted)
The porter gave a glare...
" you're not allowed to smoke sir"
" it's a non smoking here"
As he gave an angry stare...
You look across the table
With that gormless grin
This wasn't quite the way
I thought our marriage would begin.!!
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 8:13 AM UTC
A table of Jesus-stuff at the door
A beefish man in gas-station shades
Channeling Chaucer’s Pardoner – he ain't
Never heard of him – in peddling salvation
“It’s for the church. It’s for the missions,” he says
Ignored by most. Then in a mutton moment
He spreads his legs and clutches at his (faith)
Laughing a pelvic ****** at his fellow apostle
A gormless guide to The Golden Shore
Touting tawdries and tidings at the truck stop door
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC