"kath" poems
Sitting round the barbecue
there's Paddy, Jeff and me
Mary is on Paddy's right
as happy as can be
Kath is sitting next to Jon
while Chrissy chats with Fay
Paddy passes round the brew
on an orange, plastic tray
Someone grabs a guitar
and begins a happy song
No one knows the melody
but still we sing along
Over comes old Lucifer
his hooves are keeping time
Three hot dogs on his pitch fork
(and one of them is mine)
"I hate to break this up" he says
"the boss is on his way
And if we don't pass muster
then there will be Hell to pay
So put away that beer my friends
and hide that barbecue
Now everyone look miserable
and maybe we'll get through".
A golden light came shining in
as Jesus crossed the room
Paddy swung a pick ax
and I swept with a broom
And Lucifer he cursed at us
and cracked an evil whip
And then a half gone Fosters
went and fell from Paddy's hip.
You could have heard a pin
drop as that bottle hit the floor
Lucifer just shook his head
he knew what was in store
But Jesus Christ he grabbed
that brew and gave a wicked smile
"For an ice cold pint of Fosters
I would walk a country mile"
So the joint again was rockin’
And Jesus lead the way
He said “if it were up to me
I think that I would stay”
Then he downed another bottle
And he said ‘oh by the way,
My dad would not be cool with
this so hold your tongues, ok?"
We never let the secret slip
and all is right and well
And if you’d like to join
us at this barbecue in Hell
Then we have a simple rule
you see, that everyone abides
You can come and go eternally
but religion stays outside.
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 2:56 AM UTC
[Verse 1]
In the dark , We come out and play
We are its children, And were here to stay
Running through , Hungry for strays
No invitation, take me away
Im not cruel, But thats still what you see
Club to club, Come see this city with me
Hungry for life, Without your pity
I dont want it, But you give it
Still cant say she wont start up
Still cant say she wont start up a fight
You go city
Cause in the city of life she cant she cant wait
[Verse 2]
In the darkness, A killer awaits
To **** a life, And the lies you make
You do another, So this death can live
Just keep on dancing, To the movie your in
The smell of your sweat, Just lures me in
Your heartbeat, Does sing to me
Running feet, Beats my blood
My ghost inside you, Soon will be
Still cant say she wont start up
Still cant say she wont start up a fight
You go city
Cause in the city of life she cant she cant wait
Hungry for strays, hungry for life, no invitate your pity
[x8]
I dont want *** but you give it
Still cant say she wont start up
Still cant say she wont start up a fight
You go city
Cause in the city of life she cant she cant wait [x2]
[Verse 3]
Now its over, You've taken your life
The dark grows thin, And I'm left to hide
I don't regret it, But its sad anyway
Now were both dead, And scared of the black
This life of games, And diligent trust
Its the things we do, Or the things we must
Im now tired of being cussed
So go sleep forever end to dust
Writers: Nicholas Routledge, Michael di Francesco, Matthew van Schie, Tomek Archer, Alice Glass, Ethan Kath
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 3:59 PM UTC
Delivered to us by an optimistic gentleman in a black Stetson cap
who spent his days waving village traffic down with an open hand,
it's been four years since you were sat on the bookshelf in Kath's house.
You stood proud, surveying the fine china made across the border
wrapped up in donated newspaper articles and pristine hand-me-downs,
while my inky fingers welcomed regulars who only ever looked around.
Each weekend we were greeted by bright smiles set in permanent shadow.
Sometimes I declined banknotes on the street for carrying dismantled tables.
I'm still searching for namesakes when perched on local stones above sea level.
Friends like Elvis were divisive figures due to their signature tobacco smells.
Under a green bus shelter, I laughed at his frown about a Midlands town.
Thinking about the rows of vacant church seats still leaves me cold
even now. As I watch needles drop onto rocks and a solitary shell,
your frame shrivels daily and bends you crooked like a question mark.
Oh, Eric - will I ever meet your father again to discuss your burial?
Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 11:16 AM UTC
Slashers Defined
In response to my piece, Slashers, it was requested that maybe I could
reveal at least which band or other info these great guitar players performed for to gain their claim to fame. I don't want to spend too much
time on this defintion, but will give what info I think is pertinent. If you do not know some of the names I have presented to you, and you are a blues,
rock, jazz, fusion guitar fan, I suggest you take the time to listen to some of their work. I have included some of my favorite incredible fusion players that do not have a super star following, but are renowned in their group of fans, probably mostly musicians to some degree.
If you are a frustrated guitar player like I am, do not listen to the likes of Holdsworth, Johnson, Gambale, or Morse unless you love being tortured.
Anyway on with the show.
Eric Clapton – Yardbirds, Cream, Blind Faith, Derek and the Dominos.
Jimmy Page – Yardbirds, Led Zeppe, The Honeydrippers, The Firm
Jimi Hendrix – not only what is, but, what could have been
Alan Holdsworth – Solo jazz fusion player – hot
Steve Howe – Yes, Asia - Progressive rock, jazz –
Bill Nelson – BeBop Deluxe, Solo
Terry Kath – Chicago (25 or 6 to 4) – another sad early departure
Ted Nugent – Amboy Dukes, **** Yankees – The madman
Jim Krueger – Dave Mason Band – solo progressive rock
Eddy Van Halen – Van Halen
Ritchie Blackmore – Deep Purple, Rainbow
Jerry Doucette – Doucette (Mama let him play)
Eric Johnson – Solo – New Age, jazz
Frank Gambale – Australian- Jazz, fusion, rock
Goerge Benson – Jazz
Larry Carlton – Jazz, new age rock
Marc Farner - Grand Funk Railroad
Peter Frampton – Humble Pie, solo
Joe Satriani - New age – solo
Johnny A. - jazz, new age – solo
Danny Gatton – jazz, rockabilly – solo
Chet Atkins – jazz, country
John Mayer – Pop, blues – solo
Neal Schon – Journey
Steve Lukather – Toto
Masyoshi Takanaka – New age, jazz – Japanese solo
Lee Ritnour – Jazz, new age – solo
Leslie West - Mountain, West Bruce & Laing
Monty Montgomery – jazz, blues (accoustic you have never heard)
Wes Montgomery – jazz 40's – 50's
Phil Keaggy – New age Christian
Robin Trower – Procul Harem
Brian May – Queen
Rick Derringer – Montrose, Edgar Winter Group, Steely Dan
Robin Ford – John Mayall, Chick Corea, solo jazz, fusion, blues
Carlos Santana – Santana
Ronnie Montrose – Montrose
Steve Morse – Dixie Dregs, Kansas, solo jazz, fusion
Trevor Rabin – Yes, solo new age
Gomer LePoet...
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 1:19 PM UTC
I love her
but she doesn't know
I am somehow there when she is sad
but she still only views me as a friend
but that's okay
I listen to her problem
and cheer her up
In the end
I can describe all that I feel for her in six words
"I love you very much, Kath"
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 6:32 PM UTC
Tudor Royals. (An Acrostic)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tough times the Tudor King endures
Undecided on his bold armorers
Due to hots for miss Anne Boleyn
Ordered aside the maid of Aragon
Removed poor Anne’s head for Darling Jane
Rare son to Jane but childbirth was a pain
On death we see the shrewdest Ann o Cleaves
You know they didn’t get on or consummate
A fifth in Katherine Howard a **** for sure.
Lost her head , took Kath Parr to bed
Six was five too many for a King named Henry
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 10th 2018.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC
Pretty things
Like Kath kidston florals
And open fires and cheery wine
Harrowed souls are repaired by music
Minds grow hazy from *** smoking
Clean air that was dusted with magical sparkles
Now choked by perplexing precipitations…..
Atmosphere surrounded by regret
Whilst the act is still submerging from chaotic emotions
Remorseful tears do not appear until alone
Until the tide of the ocean reaches minds
When they are isolated from the world and all it brings
Nothing but sorrow consuming body and soul
Like a cantankerous person within person
Scratching from inside out
Until lyrics are sung to the world
Declarations of apologetic notions
‘Im sorry, I love you, Im sorry, I love you…’
Nothing else can be said.
Dec 4, 2011
Dec 4, 2011 at 8:22 AM UTC
Intimations of intuition
Liberally surface.
Faith and I
Are on speaking terms.
Ekstasis wraps its arms
Around me and eases
Into my body.
I seem transmuted.
Come Here by Kath Bloom
Is mentally playing;
She sings of love,
And even though I have no lover,
It still soothes me
Like the generous breeze,
And uplifts me
Like Sol's glimmering solace.
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Originally written 1/15/14
Revised in 2014
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
I'm just pretending to be alive today.
I died years ago when I abandoned you
and the kids. I betrayed more than our vows.
I betrayed myself and there's no forgiveness.
I live in fragments between drinks and pills
when I see the top side of my world that
should have been but is a lost paradise.
Christ! I loved you so much back then.
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 9:53 PM UTC
The Final Goodbye - Written By Kristie Townsend
5 July 2012 at 21:27
ITS TIME
This is it
The end of the line
I knew that the day would eventually come
When I got that call, it was time
The Can of Worms opened
The fear, The pain -
and all other unexpected emotions provoked
On the stench of death I nearly choked
Who do I now share with?
Who will hear my grief?
How will I ever heal?
on my own again Is my belief
I will see you in The Summerland
I will say Goodbye for now, Hold you tight
Share with you precious final moments
no matter who argues, whatever the fight
My regrets are plenty
my memories few
but at least I can say
that I do have some with you
This is my final line to you
My chance to lay to rest the past
I feel grief, sad and blue and also
as though I always came last
by Kristie Townsend (04.04.07)
Written in memory of My maternal Grandma, Kath Ledwith who passed away the day before. She suffered a very long, painful, agonising passing, May Her Un-tamed and Unconventional spirit now be at peace, free to roam, free from pain, free from the many hardships she encountered on the earthly plane. May the Goddess Love and Guide you Nana. Love you *** (P.S. I miss your Trifles!)
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
i am drowning.
the work is becoming me.
i am not living
moment to moment
but task by task. my phone is
a long list of numbers and names,
and they all need me now,
now, now,
and yesterday and tomorrow,
but i rank them,
because life is a long
list of ranking and doing,
but the ranking is a chore
already, and i get tired,
my feet sink up to
the **** of my ankle,
and i'm no further ahead
than i was before,
the same spot, just
a few inches lower,
a few pounds heavier.
i am in no condition
to write.
so i smoke, i
let the spirit run
all through me,
and through him,
i find the second
mask of mine that
loves to write letters.
i am drowning
in letters.
the list swells,
shifts, squirms
in my hand.
every screen begs
me to write to it.
and everyone's got
a different medium,
language, favor,
passion and preference.
i am thanking and apologizing.
i am scheduling and dismissing.
i am losing steam trying to
wear all these hats; i
am sinking, i
am sinking, i am
sinking, i am sinking,
i am fifteen people at
once, all singing and
stepping on themselves,
i am so noisy, and grateful.
i am so sickeningly small.
i am drowning.
i am grateful. i
am swelling; i am
building an image;
i am becoming. it
is so uncomfortable.
it is night when i finally
sit to paint. these are the
things that sell and yet i
feel so much like a glass
jar already stuffed full
of change. nothing to
show for it yet though.
so i put the
ink in a big
circle on the
canvas and i
crawl inside it
and it is warm
and soft and
unforgiving
and it doesn't
expect a thing
from me but
color.
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 12:01 AM UTC
brief introductions, skipping fining judgments and
unconsciously accepting regret some days later;
i should’ve known better. . .
anna is a narcissist.
jerome is a hipster.
kenneth (also a hipster) wants to be the alpha all the time
when it comes to movies.
anthony’s a poet, at least considers himself
to be one because he writes
and stupid girls loves his generic works.
marianne thinks of herself sharp and has
nothing to say but “cliche” on art pieces
that she doesn’t like, pretentious as ****
just because kath graduated from one of the
well-known universities the world
has ever known, her opinions and
views about everything must be and should be golden.
olivia who seemed to be a kid at heart,
turns out to be a cock-loving ****** of all sorts.
jacob who’s good at playing guitar is a self-indulged
narcissist
and thinks that anyone who’s not as good as him
or plays in band like he does can’t join he
and friends’ “clique,”
like hell it would mean the world to me
to be a part of those phonies.
professor richards who teaches literature
disapproves of my favorite writers, also a phony.
benison is a bully with nuts for brains.
to hell with this, and i’m a pacifist who’s
judgmental.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 9:36 AM UTC
The weather was good, plenty of sunshine
A good day and a nice time
With a friend in the club and a relative
A good afternoon surrounded by friends
We were in Windermere
Then went to Bowness for dinner
The food was a winner
The place well-named, ‘The Angel’
Kath
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 5:45 AM UTC