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lowry painted pictures in his salford town
with his matchstick people. he would jot them down
chimneys from the factories smoking all around
he put them in his pictures set as a backgroud
he just loved to paint on canvas everyday
lowry he was different with his special way
his pictures they remain and now there here to stay
this painter man from salford with his matchstick way
The critical reviews are in.  It looks as though Socialist Heroes will not become a Broadway play.  The following comments concerning the desirability of socialism were gleaned from the Facebook page of the National Liberty Federation.  Group members indicate a resounding thumbs down on the idea of socialism.  

Popular comments from the Facebook group include:
Kool aid drinking
Semper Fi
Following Gunny to Hell and Back
Lots of Good Gunnys out there
Obama’s socialism must be stopped
I’d rather die than live under communism
Join the Infidel Brotherhood
Ted Cruz, just love that guy
Stock Up on Guns and Bullets
Greece invented democracy and they haven't used it for years
Jesus is coming to destroy the Anti-Christ
there are a lot of ******* out there posing as americans

The passionate posts and learned comments from the Facebook group members of the The National Liberty Federation follow in all its grammatical and misspelled glory.  All comments from the public group are posted verbatim….

(Editorial Note: The link to the Infidel Brotherhood was redacted.  The Editor wants no role in promoting neo-fascist vitriol. )

Thanks!


National Liberty Federation
Like This Page · 11 hours ago
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Top Comments
4,560 people like this.
2,627 shares

Eddie *******Where's MY koolaid!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago

Charles Noftsker Semper Fi!!!!!!!!!
Like · Reply · 175 · 11 hours ago via mobile

Justin P. Emery Semper Fi, my Brother
Like · 13 · 11 hours ago

National Liberty Federation Semper Fi!!! 0311 here
Like · 9 · 11 hours ago

Justin P. Emery 3521 listed... but did whatever the hell my Gunny told me to do lol
Like · 5 · 10 hours ago

National Liberty Federation there are a lot of good gunny's out there.
Like · 2 · 10 hours ago

Justin P. Emery Yeah... Gunny's you'll follow through Hell and back
Like · 2 · 10 hours ago

Kathy Stephens Grant We have our future generations to think about!
Like · Reply · 172 · 11 hours ago
7 Replies · about an hour ago

Clint ****** I am on the right side which is I am an American and I do not want obamas socialism
Like · Reply · 11 · 11 hours ago

Joyce Tidwell Burns Backing Americans into a corner is never a good idea. Bad thing is both sides are ready and if this crap starts its gonna be very very bad...
Like · Reply · 9 · 11 hours ago via mobile

Jim Blackwell I may be getting to old to fight but I still shoot straight. Just set me on a bucket behind a bush on a hill and I will just pick them off one at a time until I get all of them or they get me. I would rather die free than to live under communism.
Like · Reply · 14 · 10 hours ago

William Slingo I"m with ya Jim. I'm too old and crippled to be a soldier but I never planned on dying alone if ya know what I mean........
Like · 1 · 8 hours ago

Susannah Fedders I'm 60yr.old female with 4 Grand Son's I'm ready to do what is necessary to take our country back,for my Grandchildren.
Like · Reply · 10 · 11 hours ago

Robert Haller To coin a phrase, I regret I only have one life to give to my country. I will give all that I have and until my last breath to defend this country. Semper Fi.
Like · Reply · 4 · 10 hours ago · Edited

Michael Knorr even some civilians will fight that!
Like · Reply · 3 · 11 hours ago

Adam Capi This generation of young voters and first time voters Proves americans are Plain Stupid
Like · Reply · 4 · 11 hours ago

Andrea Gardner Ahhhhhh....Social Security? How about we get past the labels and just do what's right for the people instead of the rich Plutocrats who have managed to take over our Government. Our Politicians are nothing more than prostitutes sold to the highest bidder.
Like · Reply · 7 · 5 hours ago via mobile

Alice Shinn I may be old, 67 years young. I am disgusted with our country. I know that I am not alone. My friends and family cannot believe what our congress has let laws pass, that are not equal under the law..
Like · Reply · 2 · 9 hours ago

Savi Braun Then get it back!!!
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Leslee C. Carles you can help too!
Like · 10 hours ago

Diana McGowan Nelson I totally cannot understand how many people don't see what this man in doing. By the time they open their eyes, it will probably be too late.
Like · Reply · 2 · 7 hours ago

Brian Chaline Please help us reach 900 likes.
(link to Infidel Brotherhood redacted)
Thanks!

The Infidel Brotherhood
The Infidel Brotherhood is a group established to promote education,warning andunderstanding of the danger involved in the spread of Islam. The twisted Sharia Laws and Ideologies that Muslims are using against Non-Muslims, women and childern.
Community: 921 like this
Like · Reply · 3 · 9 hours ago via mobile

Dale Rumley I am gonna fight till death for it. I with Jim Blackwell. The longer the shot the better!!!!
Like · Reply · 3 · 10 hours ago via mobile

Bettie Stanley Amen
Like · Reply · 2 · 10 hours ago

Nancy Jacobson I am with you .
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Marino Fernandez I wish this was true, pray that America wakes up to reality, and the mistakes it has made in the last two elections.
Like · Reply · 1 · 50 minutes ago

Jule Spohn Semper Fi!!! Jule Spohn - Sgt- USMC - 1960/66
Like · Reply · 1 · 9 hours ago

Savi Braun Everyone needs to help get our country back
Like · Reply · 1 · 10 hours ago via mobile

La Fern Landtroop Praying that God helps America !
Like · Reply · 1 · 3 hours ago via mobile

Terri Britt Smith Read Senator Ted Cruz last post.... gotta love that guy!!
Like · Reply · 1 · 5 hours ago

FJay Harrell Yes it will. The Boomers will not give up their party.
Like · Reply · 2 · 8 hours ago

Vanessa Mason Be careful in Obama Care they come after your children because of your military training, read up on it, it starts with home visits. I salute all military, and Thank you too.
Like · Reply · 1 · 10 hours ago

Lois F. Neway Semper Fi ......We have our future generations to think about!
Like · Reply · 1 · 10 hours ago

Joe Riggio Nor will mine....Semper Fi!!!
Like · Reply · 1 · 11 hours ago

Michael Coulter oorah!!!
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Joyce Ballard I pray this is right.
Like · Reply · 2 · 11 hours ago

Billy Wells I pray that you are right!!
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Carmita Depasquale Semper Fi, indeed and thank you for ALL that you do..God bless and God speed!
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Rose M D'Amico I pray not....the young ones must be strong & we seniors will help when we can!
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Nathan Gartee I stand beside my fellow americans to FIGHT for FREEDOM !!!
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Thomas P Zambelli oh hell no!
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Marvin Moe Mosley Let's hope they stand up and be counted
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Bill Yeater gonna be a near thing
Like · Reply · 11 minutes ago

Dante Antiporda Obama's socialism will never happen in the US, if only its citizen will use their PEOPLE POWER a mass action together without FEAR and gun fired and NO BULLET hurt anyone.
Like · Reply · 34 minutes ago

Diane Stevens Abernathy Too late.
Like · Reply · 44 minutes ago

Chuck N Marv Pelfrey AMEN!! AGREE!!
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Jane Garrett Amen
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Sandy Thorne You got that right.
Like · Reply · 5 hours ago

Jane Hanson GOOD FOR YOU.
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Buck Wheat **** near already there
Like · Reply · 3 · 11 hours ago

Carol Lowell Already happening,
Like · Reply · 14 minutes ago

Ellen Aaron I surely hope not, but it's not looking good, right now...
Like · Reply · 16 minutes ago

Timothy Tremblay It would be a cold day in hell
Like · Reply · 18 minutes ago

Peter Krause Not without a major fight...
Like · Reply · 25 minutes ago

Mike Beakley You are a stupid person.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago via mobile

Anibal Gonzalez Jr. I hope. And trust.
Like · Reply · 1 · 2 hours ago

George P Palmer Well son you better get off your *** cause I am one of last of the grate generation..
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Steven Canzonetta I don't think you people know what socialism is, take a civics class. Not mention democracy has been around for thousands of years, and the country that invented it (Greece) hasn't used it in century's. Shouldn't that tell you something?!
Like · Reply · 1 · 3 hours ago via mobile

Kenneth Chartrand we sure hope but there are a lot of ******* out there posing as americans
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Ann Morse unfortunately, we already have...
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Robert Dixon Aim High and I agree with you

Steven Canzonetta I don't think you people know what socialism is, take a civics class. Not mention democracy has been around for thousands of years, and the country that invented it (Greece) hasn't used it in century's. Shouldn't that tell you something?!
Like · Reply · 1 · 3 hours ago via mobile

Kenneth Chartrand we sure hope but there are a lot of ******* out there posing as americans
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Ann Morse unfortunately, we already have...
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Robert Dixon Aim High and I agree with you
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Deb Siener I wish but think it is already too late to take our country back
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

Code Jah Capitalism, socialism, fascism and all the other ism's have all failed. They're all corrupt and unequal. No sense using any of that crap anymore, its a round world with unlimited potential. Why not start something new that works well for everyone not just a handful of industrialist pigs?
Like · Reply · 1 · 7 hours ago

Marco Moore are future
Like · Reply · 7 hours ago

Lydia Perez-Cruz If we don't want this, Everyone better Wake Up and put a Stop to it!!!!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago

Terry Maeker Thank you!!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago via mobile

Gayle Wright I AGREE
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago

Glen Dauphin Too late! All we can do is take it back now.
Like · Reply · 1 · 11 hours ago via mobile

Ruth E. Brown It's never too late. We stood by and allowed this to happen, so it's up to us to fix it.
Like · Reply · 1 · 5 hours ago via mobile

Michael Therrien Socialism? Really you folks need a dictionary. Socialism is not the same as Communism. Socialism is not the same as Fascism. Most democracies in the world operate under the banner of socialism. So stop getting your patriotism mixed up with fighting socialism. It has NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. And you gunners yeah... Your JOB IS DEFEND THE PRESIDENT not the politics. How is that going?
Like · Reply · 1 · 5 hours ago · Edited

Kathy Williams What are you going to do to keep obama from turning this country into SOCIALISM ?? We and congress just sit on our hands and expect God to do the work ????
Like · Reply · 1 · 53 minutes ago

Nancy Anderson Makes me glad I don't have kids.
Like · Reply · 1 · 11 hours ago · Edited

RoyLee Clouse Jr. AMEN!
Like · Reply · 4 minutes ago

Cherrie Fields Collins United we stand!
Like · Reply · 5 minutes ago

Pamela Lowry we need to fight
Like · Reply · 15 minutes ago

Jorge Alvarado I challenge you all to write your representatives, and demand change. Make a promise, if you see no change to vote out those representatives. When you are finished writing, go out to the corner of your street and hold up signs, advising others to do the same. Change starts while on your feet!!!
Like · Reply · 44 minutes ago via mobile

Humberto Gonzalez never
Like · Reply · 45 minutes ago

Robert Wilkins You elected a Socialist loser as president, twice! So yes, you are the generation whose stupidity and intellectual sloth let America fall to a bunch of two-bit dictators. Hope you're all proud of yourselves.
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

ColleenLee Johnson Sure hope this is the case - we have two years or less....
Like · Reply · about an hour ago via mobile

Darlene Nelson Stand up America if you love this country.
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Jole Workman too late!
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Pete Johnson Our grandfather's generation already did it when they elected Woodrow Wilson.
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

G Cindy Albe u are RIGHT about that!!!
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Lynn Stacey Amen
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago via mobile

Mary Labonte If we must go down it will be one hell of a fight!!!
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Emma Joyce Wolfe THANK YOU
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Charles Twentier Someone please tell our country is under attack from inside and we need them to do what thier signs before it is too lat for us and them .
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Patsy McMillian Hartley Hope so.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Ron Hendrix Keep Communist Cuban Guerillas out of the Senate and the spotlight.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Matthew Keenan We already did!http://www.foxnews.com/.../
Why ObamaCare is a fantastic success
www.foxnews.com
There are 2 major political parties in America.
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Maryann Del Giorno Avella amen
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Selena Ervin i think we are almost there
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Rhoda Dietz we better all do smthing to stop it
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Todd Mcdonald What about Fascism
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago via mobile

Steven Canzonetta Richard A Haines, I see you posted the Mayflower compact. I believe the constitution trumps the compact, especially seperation of church and state. Also " one nation under god" was added to the pledge in the '50s as an anti communism campaign after WW2. Its not an American value, because we are suposed to respect all religeon, and keep it out of social policy. Maby your not an American, since you cant keep your dogma out of our government.
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago via mobile

Harry Mundy Socialism is a rolling snowball gaining size and momentum as it rolls downhill! Let's hope it can be stopped or impeded, but as it is rolling, more and more people jump aboard to benefit from the free ride!!!!
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Gary Carte With you all the way.
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Isaac Tedford Pookey! Let's bring this mother down!
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

Else Mccomb God bless you all...
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

John MacDonald IN GOD WE TRUST
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

Byron Lee you better hurry then ---the ******* are gainigng on us!!!!!
Like · Reply · 4 hours ago

Justin Klimas HOOAH!!!!!!!!!!
Like · Reply · 6 hours ago

Joseph Ball Hell yeah
Like · Reply · 7 hours ago via mobile
106 of 172
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David Patton Arm yourselfs now and buy plenty of ammo, you will need it one day.
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago

Lucretia Landrum Amen !
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago

Lucretia Landrum Amen
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago

John Payne that right!!
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago

Little Eagle ****** McGowan No you too busy falling TO STUPIDITY.
Like · Reply · 8 hours ago via mobile

Carol Pinard Ummmm what obama is doing to our country in not socialism..... it is awful and shameful but it is not socialism. Do research on what socialism is supposed to be and not just what it became in the hands of evil people.
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago via mobile

Tim Veach Too late.
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Pam McBride Don't want it to be.
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Kathryn Seelmeyer RIGHT!
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago

Kim Janics my mom would love you but we are slowly have been going toward that direction since the beginning of governments.....yes even america
Like · Reply · 10 hours ago · Edited

DeAnna Stone already happening
Like · Reply · 11 hours ago

Irene Lopez Nice
Like · Reply · 11 hours ago via mobile

Scott Puttkamer A lil late I think! Obama has already done it!!!!!!!!
Like · Reply · 11 hours ago

Jimmy Oakes 2nd that!
Like · Reply · 11 hours ago

Diane Kelham OORAH....
Like · Reply · 2 hours ago

Tami Stanley Perkins Amen to that!!!!!! From one vet to millions of others, we shall rise to the occasion and fight here on our own land to remove a dictator!!!!!
Like · Reply · 3 hours ago

Fran Gordon Benz Not if I can help it! I see people reaching a boiling point!! Something is going to happen! I'm sensing the anger and frustration!
Like · Reply · 9 hours ago via mobile

Bob D. Beach Right!
Like · Reply · 4 minutes ago

Annie Graham Which generation would that be.....the one that 'allowed' SS, medicare, Medicaid, fire, police, parks, roads, education etc...?
Like · Reply · 35 minutes ago

Kassandra Craig then we need to get rid of obama
Like · Reply · about an hour ago

Tony Horton By Ballots or bull
"Stoner's Poem"

I see your snapstories,
I see your ask profile.
I see how you comment and reply and flaunt your English skills.
Trust me, I love your rebuttals,
More than Biryani and the Lebanese pornstar.
I see your Facebook posts,
I see your WordPress,
And I see, how you craft your poems flamboyantly,
And then, and then,
Pilfer my breath,
And rob my me.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
Your deportment bewilders me,
More than Lowry-Bronsted's theory.
I see how you dance in the rain,
Like "All, sin, tan, cos", do in my brain.
I see how you frequent every segment of my cardiac muscle,
And then desert it, like it's one of the many dilapidated constructions.
My reminiscences about your thingness,
Escalate me to a higher spiritual level,
More than **** does.
Oh, that smile,
Oh, that look,
Oh, the mystique in you.
And again, I am writing of Love.
And the pen doesn't seem to stop soon,
For I have taken a greater risk,
Than asking my friend about cathodes and anodes and electrolysis, while I took my last chemistry exam,
When the invigilator was around.
jeremy wyatt Jan 2011
Lowry leanshanks came to town
riding a horse that was purple not brown.
He'd heard the sheriffs job was going
so into the ring his hat was throwing.
He might be strange and a little slim,
but who can run away from him?
His arms are thirteen metres wide,
no time to get away and hide!
Never had to use his gun,
Bullets miss him every one.
His purple horse may neigh and whinny,
but you can't shoot a man who is so skinny!
The jail was soon full of bad men,
like Cactus **** and Dust Bowl Ken.
The town was safe, the people happy,
they all so love the skinny Chappie!
Julia Oct 2017
If this were a haiku, I'd have
seventeen syllables to explain
why I'm running
out of syllables
to tell you why
the doorknob,
and not between my fingers,
is where your hand shouldn't be.
Message Delivered

If that sounds confusing,
it's because it isn't,
and you're only confused because I
proofread the text messages
and you forget words,
but it's like you forgot "you"
after "I" and "love,"
and you just never thought to put it back.
Message Delivered

I checked the date
and you missed
Monday morning in Lowry
and the morning before that in Farmer Boy,
and we've got a whole calendar
of affections that you're missing
because you opened up
to a month too far back
and now you're in love
with moments that forgot you
Message Delivered

I’m holding out for cycles of goodbye kisses
and I only got them
when you woke up,
and i’m not sure you ever did again
because you’re living
in sweet dreams
that are quietly bitter
and your ideas don’t love you
like you’ve convinced yourself you do.
Message Delivered

If I could go back
i'd give you space,
i’d break my own heart
not listening to the sound
of your breath
as you fall asleep next to me
but you're finding shelter
in broken affection
afraid to be alone
forgetting
who you are in
familiarity,
in Her
Message Delivered

I’ll fall asleep tonight,
and wake up tomorrow,
the same way I did yesterday,
thinking of something that wasn’t,
or maybe really was
and praying I could fall back into that dream
but sleep isn’t quite that easy,
and blissful ignorance
is granted only to the few
Message Delivered
up theer atop
Pendlebury hill

Lowry still,

matchstick thin
a flat cap
cheeky grin,

he paints the rain
grainy,

although
not always on a Sunday.


I Watch him by the mill race,
a mill shed face
that catches old like new
for me,

L.S Lowry
ought to be
hanging in the Tate,

oh wait,
he is.
Michael S Davis Apr 2013
The twenty-one gun salute
that pierced your soul at the funeral
of your grandfather,
Col. Robert Corbin Lowry,
was a fitting tribute
to a man who loved you dearly;
a soldier who fought bravely,
led his men with compassion,
humbly carried the scars of service,
and endured each Fourth of July
as too-noisy a reminder of the shots
that pierced his soul in Vietnam.
As you live your life,
honor him
by continuing to be
the granddaughter
in whom he was so proud.
You have always done that well.

©2002 Michael S Davis
Jackie Mead Aug 2018
Another year over, a new one has begun,
I reflect on the great things that I’ve done,
The places I’ve been, the people I’ve met,
The many ways I travelled by car, train and jet.

I’ve been to some great places, Zante, Memphis, New Orleans & France,
All these places have their own unique rhythm and dance,
In Zante it’s Greek music and dancing, jumping and clapping all part of the fun,
In France the rhythm is vibrant and fun, all taking part under a gorgeous warm sun,
In Memphis, of course, it’s rock and roll, rhythm and blues and a lot of soul,
Beale St is the place to go,
In New Orleans, it’s rhythm and blues and jazz,
On each street corner marching bands,
Bourbon St the place for all genres of music from Louis Armstrong to Jason Mraz.

I’ve climbed to the top of a Mountain to look at a Saxon Fort,
I’ve been underground to some Roman Remains,
I’ve travelled the English Channel from Dover Port.
I’ve become intolerant to the Gluten Grain.

I’ve visited Old Trafford, the Theatre of Dreams,
I’ve been to Cardiff to see the Speedway,
Visited a stately home for Scones and Cream,
I’ve visited The Mumbles, Swansea just for the day.

I’ve celebrated my middle son getting married,
I’ve snuggled the Grandkids for hours and hours,
Dozens of shopping trips complete and bags carried,
Worried over my Grandkids in the darkest of hours.

I’ve visited Graceland’s, home of The King,
I’ve travelled from Memphis to New Orleans by Amtrak train,
I’ve visited the bayou of New Orleans,
Seen Alligators sleeping, Herons, Lizards and Cat Fish on the end of a line,
Travelled the Mississippi on a paddle boat powered by steam.

I’ve visited museums in several locations,
The Van Gogh, The *** Museum and The Moco in Amsterdam, The Lowry and Imperial War Museum in Manchester,
Walked these cities in all types of Weather,
Viewed paintings and sculptures by Van Gogh, Dali, Lowry and Banksy, photographs of **** maids and their Lords,
At the Imperial War Museum, I learned a lot about wars,
On display the bravery of more than a few, Men, Women and Children too.

I’ve had family days out aplenty,
Fed ducks, swans and geese with stale bread,
Trips to the park on seesaws and swings,
Laughed so much, at Comedy Club, it’s hurt my head.

I’ve travelled on a barge up the Manchester Ship Canal
I’ve visited Rame Head, Cornwall, for Family occasions
I’ve watched Peabody Ducks march back to their nest, a carnival fit for Royal
Walked along the cliffs of Whitsand Bay, close to the Coastguard Station

I’ve published two children’s books based on stories told my children at bedtime
I’ve been to concerts, Phil Collins, Coldplay, Robbie Williams and The Rolling Stones
I’ve written many a poem, 190 plus including Limericks, consisting of 5 lines that rhyme
I’ve had a tooth implant, causing swelling and bruising to my cheekbones

I’ve discovered a love of Gin and Tonic,
I never used to like so that’s ironic
Rhubarb and Ginger my favourite flavour
Sit at the bar, sip it slow, it’s a joy to savour

I’ve had times I needed to cry
I’ve had times I needed a hug
I’ve had times I needed to smile
I’ve had times I needed to laugh
I’ve had times I needed no one
I’ve had times I needed to be surrounded

As I reflect at the year past,
I reflect that mostly it’s been a blast,
This year I want to experience new things,
And, my long-term plan is to return to running.

So, please Lord bring forth another year,
I’ll use all my blood, sweat and tears,
To make good use of another year.
-----------------------------------------------------------­--------------------------
On This Day In History – August 15th

1914 – The Panama Canal opens to traffic with the transit of the cargo ship SS Ancon.
1920 – Polish-Soviet War: Battle of Warsaw, so-called Miracle at the Vistula.
1939 – The Wizard of Oz premieres at Grauman's Chinese Theater in Los Angeles, California.
1941 – Corporal Josef Jakobs is executed by firing squad at the Tower of London at 07:12, making him the last person to be executed at the Tower for espionage.
1944 – World War II: Operation Dragoon: Allied forces land in southern France.
1947 – India gains Independence from British rule after near 190 years of Crown rule and joins the Commonwealth of Nations.
1965 – The Beatles play to nearly 60,000 fans at Shea Stadium in New York City, an event later regarded as the birth of stadium rock.
1998 – Northern Ireland: Omagh bombing takes place; 29 people (including a woman pregnant with twins) killed and some 220 others injured.
--------------------------------------------------------­------------------------
People I Share my Birthday with

Princess Anne
Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain
Jennifer Lawrence
Deborah Messing
Ben Afleck
Jack Russell
Carol Thatcher
Mark Thatcher
Hope you enjoy reading about the things I have done this last year, I enjoyed writing it, when you analyse everything you do in a year you realise how much there is to be grateful for.
Don't get me wrong I've had my share of bad things too, lost my father in law, run over by a motorcycle, and watched my grandson having a fit but for the purposes of this Poem i've focused on the positives.
For a bit of interest, I've added On This Day in History and People who share my birthday.
Thank you for reading.
Steven J Kelly Mar 2018
We are Manchester. The City, The place, we’re hospitable people with a smile on our face. You can beat us, mistreat us, and blow us to hell. We have had it all before and we don’t dwell. We’re the northern powerhouse of the northwestern elite, Where the Geordie's, The Scousers, The Yorkshire’s retreat. The premier League, The Roses Cricket, The Heineken Cup Is a one way ticket. United and City two football teams with stadiums full, bursting at the seams.

We are Mancunians Of this fair City, The People, The Love, The old nitty gritty The worker, The Shirker, The Homeless, The immigrants, each one of these they are all itinerants. The Steel, The Cotton, long since forgotten the old smokey chimneys blew out smoke that was rotten. The Massacre at Peterloo. Local politicians just don’t have a clue. With all the sights this city has on show here’s something that people don’t really know. Manchester is where New Zealand Born Ernest Rutherford split the Atom.

We Are Manchester, The City, the Place, where Sir Humphrey Chetham has his musical grace a school of music with musical taste. And where a  man with a paintbrush painted streets on boxes. I don’t think Lowry ever painted foxes. And A comedian from Collyhurst who was absolutely awesome, a real funny guy by the name of Les Dawson, and where a man from Chorlton on Medlock became Prime Minister back in the day. David Lloyd-George had a hell of  a lot to say.

We Are Manchester and it's the place for me. And a proud Mancunian I’m glad to be. I’ll sit in a cafe watching people pass by. They are all in a hurry and I wonder why. I see a business man in a three piece suit, and the homeless guy that is counting his loot. There's the ******* the street giving out free papers she is smoking those ciggies that give off those vapours. It's pouring with rain and she’s getting wet she’s worried about money to pay off her debt.

We Are Manchester and this is our City don’t waste your time we don’t want no pity. We are Manchester we are steeped in tradition we leave other cities standing. There’s no competition. Where A man from Moss Side a Vicar not a Dean called Rev George Garrett invented the submarine. And where the great Anthony Wilson was a journalist & impresario and a man named John  Nichols invented the great drink called Vimto. and so When he wrote “This Is the Place” I’m sure he did so with a smile on his face. We Are Manchester and I’ll state our case because we are Manchester and we are ace.
© Copyright Steven Kelly 1989-2018 Kellywood Productions 2018 All Rights Reserved. International Copyright Secured
Àŧùl Sep 2016
You tell me another story.
But I gathered some facts.
Lame excuses' it's a lowry,
I'm so fed up of your acts.
Getting the tinnitus because I'm lovelorn,
So tired of locking yours with my horn,
Are you dead tired of fighting too?

Did you not know this already too?
Gaining what out of the fight you are,
Only we can be the best possible friends.
Come descend back home,
A helpless heart awaits you,
Another ceasefire beckons,
Come let's bury the hatchet.
HP Poem #1159
©Atul Kaushal
Mother will you ever really like
My painting of a man riding a bike
Through disappointment, heavy sighs and cruel lies
See the life that I often capture through my eyes
Workers all flowing out of a factory gate
An image that your mind just loves to hate
People that are short but also tall
Or the man lying horizontal on top of a wall
See the children all wild and full of mood
Like ants all collective on decaying food
Mother won’t you just stop and see
I’m a painter an artist that’s just me
White paint stroked over fabric sheets
Under reflections showing desolation on
Salford streets
I am a man who paints what he sees
Like children running around with funny knees
Matchstick men and matchstick cats and dogs
To children on the ***** streets with sparkling clogs
I know I seem a disappointment to you
But when your gone my images the world will finally view
Those funny people, animals and smoke
Were done by me, L S Lowry, the maternal joke
lowry painted pictures in his salford town
with his matchstick people. he would jot them down
chimneys from the factories smoking all around
he put them in his pictures set as a backgroud

he just loved to paint on canvas everyday
lowry he was different with his special way
his pictures they remain and now there here to stay
this painter man from salford with his matchstick way
Brandi R Lowry Sep 2015
So tired of begging
And pleading
For your precious time

Just a simple conversation
Would ease
My worried mind

But here I sit
Alone
Once more

And even though
You are near
Our souls could not
Be farther apart

Words seem insincere

I know it may be difficult
Or impossible
To understand

But if you felt
The pain in my heart
You would know
Without a doubt

Control is not
What I seek

I only need your hand.

- Brandi R Lowry
Joe Feb 2018
Laurence Stephen feeling lowly
Lonely as the sea
Sits watching the matchstick crowds go by

He isn't going to the match
Or the mill

He's in his back room
With imagined ladies and Bellini
Tony Luxton Aug 2018
Buses are emptied unlike
many minds at this time
in the trudge to work
beneath the canopy of
buoyant barrage ballons.

Another factory day ***** in
the dark figures downcast with bad
war news and routine ritual.
But there is comfort to be had
in the chorus of familiar talk.
Lowry's painting 'Going to Work'
John Bartholomew Feb 2020
For he drew whatever was the scene
Of Northern towns and sometimes swings,
Of wherever he had been
The detail not always riveting like a Van Gogh or a Constable
But always on set, and you could always bet, simplicity is a sacred tool
If the stroke portrayed kindness,
And each drawing a wellness
To how we lived in other times to now

L. S. Lowry

JJB
topaz oreilly Dec 2012
Huevos Cabreaos
followed by an Americano,
taking respite from those morning Lowry figurines with their bon bon shopping priorities.
A Puerto Rican girl has just passed the La Tasca informal interview
and is immediately hugged by her awaiting friends,
life is so fast and we all think like wikipaedia, fragments of momentary knowledge ,
even the menu here has a photographic memory lock,
outside a Big Issue seller makes his first sale
the broadest Lancashire accent,
can soothe somebody's day,
here is the reality of listening too.
Francie Lynch Feb 2015
Trailers don't give away the entire plot.
I've been watching for years
As an active actor
In various melodramas.
  
     The good guy is clean shaven
     Beneath the lather,
     Emotes empathy,
     And never snickers.
     A straight shooter.

The other guy needs a blade
As cutting as sarcasm,
And aims when you turn.

     Then there's re-runs
     Whose endings never change.
     The prophet gets arrested.
     Tara burns. Ice bergs floe.
     I am under Lowry's volcanoe,
     Or leaving Las Vegas.
     28 Days is only two hours
     Of wine and roses.

The trailers just reveal enough
To give me hope.
Harlie Feb 2018
Tell you my story
Tell you my hurt
Tell you what I’ve faced
Tell you that you can be okay
Tell you even when you think your destine to break
Tell you that you can overcome this
Tell you that life is mean but you have to fight back
Tell you to spill your heart and let people in
Tell you that not everyone is against you
Tell you that you deserve the best
Tell you that you are you
Tell you that you can’t be replaced
Tell you to pick yourself up
Tell you I wish you the best with kindest regards

Based on kindest regards by Witt Lowry
Black stone juts out over greying ice,
A mass of alpine greenery,
Half bare, half masked in white;
The motion of a turner painting,
Colours cast through Lowry's eyes.

Camouflaged upon a riverside
With no sign of Lutheran ambition,
As faith faltered, medieval to Christ,
A small church modestly mirages,
Casting simplicity into Nordic pride.

The excitement of the northern lights
Over the precipice of these continents,
American and Eurasian plates collide.
The Langjökull Glacier screams
Witnessing its own untimely demise.

The remoteness captured in the landscape
Starkly contrasts to us who bear witness to it
And in the mirroring of the landscape
A lonely civil dwelling knows nothing
Of war between nature and humankind.
Thinking we're autonomous
until the night creeps up in on us
and the Monsters make a mockery
of me.

I am not the camera,
not the lens
not Isherwood,
just
a man with some pens
and time on his hands
to fashion a rhyme

Lowry
painted me,
a matchstick man
and I saw a triumph
heard bugles call,
didn't know I was Humpty
'til
I fell off the wall.

But
I am fully functioning
firing on six
jumping the red lights
to get in the mix.

it's character acting that
attracts so many and so
many lose themselves
in the characters they create

I can relate to that.

I believe Picasso
let me go
because
he was blue,
another character trait
that fell through.

I always want the other end of the rainbow.
Tony Luxton Jan 2018
Constables hay wain crossed
the Stour, wooden wheels creaking,
countryside colours clouded,
trees shrouded Flatford Mill.

Lowry's people were going to work,
guarded by furious chimneys,
darkness conductors, limbs aching.
Beneath the plumes short lives streamed,
inhabiting a rent collector's dreams.

Thin models for humanity
suffered Salford's acid rain
from satanic wage slave mills.
two paintings of workers
Every stroke of the brush
gives me a rush,
goosebumps
under a Northern sky.
A W Bullen Jun 2017
Tempers edge the need
for your anvil head to break.

The way back from work saw
Lowry people scrape the pavement.
Dog-leg drags of shuffle, of make-up slide,
mixing flea-skin sweat with pollen rub
into a tincture of stench.

This is image that I do not want

I have
half a mind to **** but I
cannot be bothered, the other ,a
a monologue of delirious ramblings
some" French kings versus
squadron mottos" thing...
and , in truth, I am not sure what
it's going on about.

I am indoors, windows open, curtains closed
naked from the waist down, feeding the freedom
of sprawl- but this is mistake of gargantuan order
a cosmic, foolish, schoolboy- error of judgement.

The sofa is leather.

My scar tangled manners are reports of my standing
an amateur tanners spewed stew of expletives.
In a half-arsed way it seems  
I am to remain

part of the furniture

I search for shorts.. long shorts, short longs, whatever,
my legs and **** seek the solace of cloth.

On the canal a coot needs oiling
what feels like 20 minutes of incessant jar is
tapping with my rationale
Testing my love for all things feathered.

Something needs to give.

I am a Gobi taste of sandal straps and
in dire need of irrigation/ rehydration
I have waited way too long for liquid...
Don't get me wrong, this isn't some test
of deprivation- this is heat swung laziness
that is all it is..nothing more
nothing less..

And so..

We will get it tonight
You cannot pull isobars this far apart to
not have them break..
And that ogrish flat-top is thugging
the harbour side rents..

Ah yes...

"Après moi le deluge"

Seems to make sense, now
David Bremner Mar 2015
Felicity is
Sand to the beach
Warmth to the sun
Light to the stars

A stream of my conciousness
I saw her once
In a girls self portrait
So real - surreal

She wore a beige scarf
As I'd never imagined
Her hair was dark
Yet at times she's blonde

Like light through a prism
She dazzles and changes
Form and colour flow freely
Yet my mind can hold her

Tonight she seems near
My thoughts touch her
An abstracted image
That flows through my pen

These are the moments
Parallel to reality
A happier place
An altered condition

Multi dimensional
She's my Lowry's 'Ann'
And tonight I am wrapped
In Felicity's arms

When she leaves me
I know she'll return
And I'll practice the ways
To call out her name.
There's more to it and more to come,
save your daylight
but
burn the sun,

I've run out of matches,
and
Lowry
painting matchstick men is unaware
of my desire
to torch and set the world on fire,

then
when this is then and now was when back then
I'll paint my life as matchstick men.

They've offered me therapy
because they want
a quiet me
but I'm not going to have it
I'm just going to rant a bit more,

I told you there was more.


Easter eggs.

Why we overindulge on these chocolate treats
beats me
and what do eggs have to do with Easter?

the juggling jester smuggles in laughter
as background to his show

and that's what it is,
a show
Easter  bunnies and upset tummies and
a long queue for the conveniences.

Killjoys are not always little whining boys
men can be them too
I can whine as well as anyone
except
the whinging 'Pom'
he's in a class of his own.
Stick men on canvas
in the foreground is Jesus
and Lowry is shaking his head.

Winter hit the mountainside with a clenched fist,
snow covered trees bowed and prayed.

The gallery wall held it all
saw it all
bared it all to
its breast.

we had danced to the magic of movement
on the oilskin of paint in the pool.

The love affair imbroglio of my youth.

No truth to be told except the truth of being old and sometimes the truth is a lie,
if I cry as I fall it is because I saw the wonder of it all
if I die it is as
a happy man.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2023
there might have been perhaps two other New Year's Eve
to match this years,
of these only one was actually magically youthful,
between 2004 coming to 2005 or perhaps it
was 2005 coming to the year 2006...
i was still studying at Edinburgh (Promis, Alicia),
that's when Promis lost her virginity
to me after Hogmanay, becoming irresistible...
seeing Fiona slobber me...
at the same time "drink me, eat me"...
**** drink to puncture her virginity while
Alicia was left cold, Lebanese reading that book:
The Hours... leftover in the communal room...

i didn't have any fun with these girls that time round...
what i had fun with was... my flatmate...

with Tristan from Bristol,
running around the streets breaking car side-mirrors
reenacting scenes fro Fight Club...
Bruce decided to become this middle-aged
man aged 18...
he bought a "bucket" of golf clubs...
one night we took them out...
we took out some golf clubs...
a few golf *****... and a few glasses...
we stood in the middle of the street...
pretending to... AIM... at... ha ha.. AIM...
we missed all the golf *****...
but! we managed to hit all the glasses!
it was... spectacular...
we were golfing in the proper Scottish sense
of the origin of golf...
       we had golf-clubs... we had golf-*****...
but we weren't hitting golf-***** with golf-clubs...
we were using golf-clubs... to... aim at imaginary
pint-glasses... sitting on top of...
shot-glasses... or... perhaps the reverse...

then that one terrible one circa 2003 or 2002...
going back to Poland, back then trying to romance
Katie (Kasie) - being invited to a house party...
being surrounded by teenagers hornier than me...
small-town mentality of getting hitched-early
and i was having trouble to breathe and find out
anything about whether i was already
the foreigner that still spoke his native tongue,
smoke, ****** music,
   the past part of the house party was helping with
the preparations with the host i only met that
evening...

this other New Year's Eve i was sitting alone
in my grandparent's house... alone in the kitchen...
both of my grandparents decided to go to bed early...
i watched the fireworks alone and felt
a solid stone of melancholy: a reflective sadness that
is not some reflex-depress or deflect-impress...

before today i promised myself change my habits,
how i would change everything,
quit smoking or at least cut down: i would most certainly
not smoke in the morning and on an empty stomach,
i would cut down on the heavy bourbon or whiskey
*****... why?
  heavy ***** has ****** up my digestive system a little...
irritable bowel movements and...
sometimes the inability to take a **** in one go...
rather... having in splintered...
   in sections... well... easily prone to sometimes vomiting
or rather: needing to ***** to feel at easy...
that was three days ago...

      i just wanted to stop feeling the also hightened
blood pressure...
             these "headaches" that weren't headaches but sort
of pulsations... as if my brain was dehydrated,
spinning, almost feeling death-tickling...
squeezing of the throat...
i told myself that i would stop drinking the heavy
duty liquids even if that meant i would have more sleepless
nights... well... new year's resolutions begin
two days before a new year's eve...
but the old ways have to come around for just one
last time on new year's eve and then:
with the intended plans...

    prior to the 30th... on the 29th i said to myself:
promise me this you-i, you will follow-through...
so i drank four ciders, took some generic painkillers
to ease me sleep and hey presto...
perhaps not a healthy 8 hour lapse into the Land
of Nod - but at least i woke up relaxed at 10am...
i had 5 hours spare until the shift would start
at the London Stadium...
                       i ate enough food smoked a cigarette
starting puking... right... you're not taking an cigarettes
to the shift... on my way there these
high-pressure "headaches" kicked in...
again i thought i was constipated but i had already
taken a shift before leaving...
no... these were not high-pressure "headaches"
anymore... excitement was kicking...
    i was again promoted to a supervisor: **** it...
here's me taking care of the east-wing with 15 stewards
under me...
i was excited... why? West Ham fans have the worst
reputation of all the clubs in the Premier League...
27 arrests in the season 2021/22...
i was excited... i was expecting something to happen...
i had 4 stewards on their ****** shifts...

in the middle of the match where West Ham was losing
to Brentford 2 - nil, Martin on gate 141 started gesticulating
with his hands in the middle of the second half...
i walk over... he tells me something is going on...
i look up... oh ****... about 12 guys, some of these guys
were fathers who brought their little boys along...
haggling with punches and grabbing and ferocious
tongues, children crying... a woman in the audience
starts glaring at me with hysteria and screaming
at me: do something! do something!
        calmly i turn on the radio and communicate
to Head Control: Control, this is Papa 2.3 -
i need a response team to be at gate 141 immediately!
the woman is still screaming,
the situation is escalating.... the children are even more
distraught, the blokes are more ferocious
(and the funny thing is, it's West Ham fans
fighting West Ham fans and not Brentford fans...
because the team is close to relegation
and i guess one fan knows better than another
fan about how to turn the situation can be
overturned) -
                           so as the pitch-side manager
Joe once said about contacting Head Control:
'i try getting through to them, they ignore me...'
well... i go at the radio again...
    'Control! this is Papa 2.3 - i need a response team
at gate 141 of the Billy Bonds stand! turn your cameras
onto what's happening! the situation is escalating!'
hey presto... persistence paid off...
    in about 20 seconds about 10 bouncers (SIA licensed)
rush in and break up the crowd... take some guys out,
comfort the children... i'm just happy the hysterical
woman is not looking at me eyes of scorn as if i'm
some impotent radio-holder...

the shift finishes at around 10:30pm...
   i still manage to catch the tube to Gants Hill and the 66 bus
to Romford, the petrol station near the police station
is still open so i buy three ciders...
    get home just after 12am, drink two ciders smoke two
cigarettes, take some painkillers and try to sleep...
oh ****... oh right... no chance of that happening...
i'm already sweating from alcohol withdraw...
cider can't replace bourbon or whiskey...
                   but excitement turns into post-panic control:
the situation was contained...
but that's not why i couldn't fall asleep...
i tried to... maybe i did for about 30 minutes in between
listening to Heilung's album Futha...
   i must have snoozed off for about 20 to 30 minutes
maybe less... turning side to side...
                                       but i knew that there wouldn't
be any point given i finished drinking the cider at
around 1:10am and i had to get up at 6am...
               to eat some porridge, shower, get dressed...
which i did... weird... ever see a fly casually flying
in a kitchen during December? heat makes flies crazy
during flight... in the "cold" of December (13 degrees Celsius
is cold for December... i experienced about
a week of promising,, authentic cold and snow
a week or two ago) - now this stinking damp and mediocre
cold... ate the porridge standing up contemplating
the lazy flight of the fly... so big... so juicy...
thank god it was one of those black ones and not
those green-belly that **** out dormant larva so quickly
the larva that turn to maggots so quickly...
black flies don't have that capacity...
because black flies... well... you associate black flies
with pestering cows... ergo? they feed off ****...
the blue-belly flies feed off dead meat... cat food...

6am wake up, wash, get dressed, and *******
to Putney Bridge for a 9am shift starts at Cavern Cottage:
Fulham vs. Southampton... New Year's Eve...
i have done a shift on Boxing Day last year...
double pay... but doing a Boxing Day shift is not the same
as... doing a New Year's Eve shift...
      it's like that W. H. Auden quote about
New Year's Eve:

the only way to spend New Year's Eve is
either quietly with friends or in a brothel.
otherwise when the evening ends and people pair off,
someone is bound to be left in tears.

ha! i have a third option!
    
so on my way to Putney Bridge, since the Elizabeth
Line is on strike until the 2nd of January...
****... this complicates my travel in London a little...
i can't take the simple option of taking the 103
bus to Romford Station and head to Paddington
and then a short walk from one Paddington (train)
station to the Paddington (tube) station and
like... 6 stations from Paddington to Putney Bridge
(Stamford Bridge, if you're interested?
that's at Fulham Common, or Broadway,
one of the two) - i could have complicated matters
by taking a longer walk from Hammersmith...
but i like walking through Bishop's Park...
as i was once reminded by one co-worker...
that's where Gregory Peck meets the priests
who gets killed in the film Omen...
it's a beautiful park: it's right next to the Thames...
so the route changes... i have to get the 103
bus to the A12 and then get on the 66 bus to
Newbury Park... then the central line to
Holborn, then the Piccadilly Line to Earl's
Court and then the District Line to Putney Bridge...
i truly tried all the alternatives...
e.g. central line to Oxford Circus -
Victoria line to Victoria and the district line
to Putney B.
     or... central line to Notting Hill Gate and
district line to ditto B....
     but i found that... there's too much walking
involved...
          the shortest route is the one i found out...
sure... it's a bit long changing at Holborn...
but changing at Earl's Court is the shortest...
plus Earl's Court is the interchange
between Edgware Rd, Richmond, Wimbledon,
Upminster and Ealing Broadway...
and the station is almost open air... so sickly sweet
underwear drying in the underground
during the Blitz sort of sensation association
with waiting...

                          ah... well... i managed to get in
to the sign in area for the shift early, i was probably the first,
said hello to the owner of the company,
who's name i always forget... an imposing figure...
former-military... but i still forget his name...
Scott... Scott... hello hello... i didn't shake his hand
this time round because i'm not left-handed
and i noticed he was holding a cigarette in his right...
signed in...
   ooh... the grand comedy of being early...
some perks come with that...
between Putney Green and Putney Bridge i realised
that my halting my drinking and elevation
of insomnia left me without any of those
high-blood pressure headaches... no excitement...
not this time round...
               i was cool as a cucumber...
i didn't feel any constipation... but then after signing
in... ooh... that porridge really helped...
as did that ****** chicken, sweetcorn mayo and
salad sandwich and Monster watermelon drink
did too... sign in at 9am... shift starts at 10am...
irritable bowel-movements...
    the staff toilets sub-standards... i tell someone:
if anyone asks... i'm going to the public toilets
in Bishop's Park... but there are toilets for staff?
you see the cubicles mate? cubicles without doors...
i'm not here to ****... i'm here to take a dump!

fidgety i'm walking back to Bishop's Park...
i enter the toilets... i enter the toilets... then the cubicle...
i peer in... wow! no animals were (yet) here!
the toilet seat is clean! it's left down!
there's toilet paper! there's a coat hanger!
wow! wow! am i just about to "******" as if seeing my
favourite ****-star from when i was 15?!
i take my coat off and all the elements of accreditation,
high-viz. and stadium passport...
undo my shirt a little at the collar and sleeves...
undo my zipper and clip pull down my trousers
down sit down and: PHOO! i **** out both
a gold nugget of firm shirt and a subsequent
waterfall of the looser stuff... my god...
i know that i'm supposed to find some sort of relief
in *******... this... this is better than *******...
ejaculations happen in private...
this is inverted *******: taking a **** in a public
toilet is more of a relief than ******* in private...
after all... it's pretty much the same, isn't?
i might not be looking someone in the eyes...
my member might not be in someone else's body...
but... Bishop's Park was organising their annual
run around the park for jogging enthusiasts...
i was already done when this one jogger ran
into a cubicle next to the one i was sitting in
finishing off my "taking a ****" counting time
solving a Mahjong... when i start to hear him puking...
i just took the most glorious Hiroshima ****
and here's next to me separated by a flimsy screen
that can't sort of discriminate the existence of sounds...

we waited for the shift to start for so long...
Stephanie pulled out... i saw her at West Ham and she asked me
whether i'd be with her in the Bishop's Park...
she turned in sick... so... i was back with Toni...
on the Hammersmith end of the stadium...
well... Thames-side and Hammersmith end...
i just implored her for a favour... i'm tired Toni...
can you put me on the outermost position...
last time i curated this position the weather was beautiful...
i spotted the bridge after Putney Bridge and
i thought: oh... the Kew Bridge...
what a glorious sight... but no...
the bridge that comes after Putney Bridge is
the Hammersmith Bridge... but that's when the weather
was good...
i just didn't want to work with Mark...
    citation needed: 'with my 12 years of experience
as a steward...'                      the ****-joke of the profession...
it was barely a year since i worked this job
and i was already supervising and yet he...
yeah...                               i can understand flies...
more than these busy-bodies of deluded semi-half A.I.
projects of hurt humans...
Francis Bacon paintings are grotesquely beautiful...
but this? this is reality-par-excellence...
interacting with it is: this incomplete human sort
of a joke... that can become a sly group-think of
being comfortable with a specified discomfort...

so i asked her... stand me there... next to ol' Father Thames
and let me admire that bridge i'm not sure about...
so she did...
     what i wasn't actually expecting was the weather...
i took the ******* position...
but as i soon learned... the best position...
the wind came with the rain and the rain came with
the wind...
                      there was this dog-walker with 4 dogs
with one being a terrier ADHD prone spaniel...
running rampage as if having seeing the godhead
of Anubis...
                      
          i was directing Southampton fans to the Putney
stand to avoid the Hammersmith stand...
just talking... hello, how are you, good afternoon...
smile... more smile... choke on a ******* biscuit
and a peppermint...
                   old men telling you: you're not getting paid
enough... lovely weather, oh... not as lovely as if...
it might be staged in the dark...

more about Mark with Lyndon and Toni...
pestering three women Chill (that middle-aged Turkish
woman... oh names... apples: Melanie... Nile? pears?
verbs?!) talk gets lost... on details...
joking about jumping the tide-out Thames...
i was just looking at how crows scared the seagulls...
one swan swimming alone...
metal-pickers in the mud...
                         i'm not myopic or the antagonism
of myopia... L.S. Lowry's stick-paintings...
                                 sure as **** metal-pickers...
in the mud i noticed what i first thought was a treasure
chest... turns out it was an old computer disk...
what was that even called if it wasn't a monitor?

oh and the weather truly broke me...
the rain came at an angle...
i smarted myself up by asking for a second... water resilient
jacket to put... i wasn't going to put on a flimsy potato-starch
pancho...
but that didn't stop my trousers getting soaked...
then once the rain stopped and the wind resumed:
getting dry... then once the rain came back getting soaked again...
but my socks were already soaked beyond getting dry...
walking the pavement in wet socks in leather shoes
is like... skinning an alive pig...

soaked feet.... although my upper body was kept warm...
talking with Toni about the proper attire for
winter... waterproof overalls... from Sports Direct...
and combat shoes: Magnums, used by police officers
and the army and all manner of security forces...
she asked for a cigarette, i gave her one,
she wasn't expecting a Camel... we walked...
looking each other in the eyes and subsequently
at each other's shoes...
in that instance she told me about her life...
she was living with her father and her stepmother...
how he biological mother kicked her out...
i just forgot which of her "mothers" was
the bipolar one... oh, right... her stepmother...
so i inquired about her stepmother's bipolar disorder...
so is that like manic depression?
no? split personality disorder? what's that like?
are all her personalities integrated or are they,
each to their own, loose canons?!

but there were these other two girls... Naomi...
who looked like a more pristine version of Will Smith's
wife... Jada Smith... i was... looking at Jada Smith...
with more hair... a nose piercing and a piercing
like a freckle where my moustache would cover it:
to the side... two kids... living in Richmond...
totally irresistible... this is how i always wanted
to spend my New Year's Eve... stoically...
at first in a gradation of pain...
pain from feat turning into the flayed beast
revealing nothing but bone, prone to accepting
the elements...

           this other girl... nice... cannibal looking teeth...
bound to braces... plump in the face... wearing a beany hat...
also mingling with Mark, the negate,
she touching him teasingly... once ***** was mentioned
i gave her some advice... oh... but you do know that
the only way to drink ***** is to drink it frozen, right?
so it resemble a sickly sick syrup... no ice, no mixer...
at best a chaser... she peered at me as if i belonged to
an ethnicity of a people that knew how to drink the ****
stuff... quizzical eyes... i forgot to tell her about
spending some time with the Russians:
being myself of a Slavic origin: ABSOLUT VANILLA...

i already knew it was the sort of New Year's Eve i was waiting
for when the shift was coming to a closure...
i was back in position admiring the Thames...
admiring the fading dark Green of Hammersmith Bridge
when the supporters were walking out...
one recognised me saying: so, you're been here,
all along? pretty much...
more passed and i just started spewing the casual:
have a good night, safe journey home,
and then the seemingly comical:
happy new year!

                 happy new year echo!
happy new year! happy new year!
            this precautionary tale of when Gandalf inquired of
poor Frodo: will it be?!
what? a happy new year?!
am i wishing a happy new year to you in advance
hoping, or perhaps wishing, or perhaps knowing:
that it might be... a happy new year?!
the phrase itself is about as meaningful or... meaningless
as licking a post-stamp and sticking it to
a postcard... wishing or not wishing: a "you"
to be "here"... no?!

                                   how about... happy new year
could be replaced with: MAYBE NEXT YEAR...
i.e. when i and you, are still alive...
we'll see each other again... i think that just might be
the summit of what happiness entices mortal creatures
such as ourselves to, from time to time: actually: believe!

the shift ended, i was soaked from feet down...
the trip back from Putney Bridge back to Romford was
sort of... giving CPR to octopi and walking on borrowed
legs... and less than sleepy eyes...
i got off at Gants Hill... ordered a spicy chicken burger
and three hot wings... gulped them down...
went into a Tesco Express... bought myself
a 70cl bottle of Jim Beam, a bottle of Pepsi...
3 cider bottles...
                     got home... said hello to my parents...
sorry... i'm ******* off... climbed into bed...
pretended to sleep, or rather, relaxed with naked feet
under the bed-sheets from them not being soaked...
"woke up" after about 2 fours... hours...
greeted them... sorry... i'm not into St. Sylvester's
celebration...
but i sat down with them...
as i have done for the past two or three years...

Jools Holland's Hootenanny has become sort of:
10pm ITV news in the household come this time of year...
what wouldn't i do without it...
Cat Burn's song Go... i never heard of it until then...
i ate some traditional tripe broth...
to warm the stomach up...
i hanged the bottle of Jim Beam and the bottles of cider
on the garden fence before coming home...
i was going to pick them up later...
to drink... well... at least half...
but it was so worthwhile to be so physically exhausted...
wow! these notes i wrote about that month
last year where i spent almost spent £1000 of prostitutes
and in the meantime lost two of my greatest
lovers... of 30 minutes' worth...
i.e. Khadra and Mona... who... the Madame of the brothel
told me would never return...

we watched the ******* spectacle of the fireworks...
wow! great! crowd!
i just retorted... if i were the people between
Westminster Bridge and the Embankment Bridge...
seeing the fireworks... i'd save up on t.v. memory...
i'd record the collective spectacle...
but got before the massive wheel
and stand there and stare... oh... but look...
who what or when Londoners? Chinese tourism...
the inescapable flu: chick or flex pork chop infections
but no rats and flies are the wholesome friends?!
standing there... with technology spread-out *******
third-eye non-experience...
the technology saw it first...
                                ugly humans non-humans
robots seem lovelier...
                    
                     that's how i learned about Cat Burn's song Go
thinking: didn't Ed Sheeran write this?!
doesn't matter...
once this supposedly spectacular night ended
when i heated up my feet and regained some flesh
in them...
                  i started drinking with my usual standard
of toxicity... looking through old notes...
ooh! an unfinished joint! wow! i had a premonition!
i will not want to go to a brothel i will not want
to go to a depressing house-party...
i will want to go inward...
into myself and starve anything already established...
i think i must have met about 3 girlfriends
tonight... possible...

now i'll finish a bottle of 70cl of bourbon by myself
while writing and smoke that joint...
finally! a new diet of music!

and the odl rekindling of an alliance....
perhaps placing conkers might put off spiders
from aligning a household with a disapproval for housing
spiders... but flies... that's a different matter;
i'm going to smoke this joint
and dream my hazardous of this years first and last
breaths.

where is that ******* fly...
i hope it's still alive while i'm alive... if i swallow it in
the night... i'll pretend to be a Pontus Pilate...

no other New Year's Eve has been so benevolent to me...
i was fudge packed between commuters not trying to
entertain the fireworks on the Thames...
me? go home...
       tired old young man....
                         why are there suspicions of me:
by simply being punctual as having any sort of association
with any nation's army?!
i like sunsets... i like sunrises... i adore the aloofness
of the aloneness that's: otherwise missing
in the claustrophobia of interaction with the other...
WOJSKO...
                        
            this has certainly been the best New Year's Eve
to meet all others...
before me stand's King Lear and Lot's Wife...
i wonder... who is... the Pillar of Sugar?!
Sugar = Salt + Water... no?!
so who is... the pillar of Sugar?!

   ah... ha: hermeneutics contra etymology!
          there's only one history for me...
   that being etymology: the origin of words from words:
to use words is not to use anything beyond words themselves...
which excludes my original assumptions that
letters or geometric shapes akin to letters or vice versa
could ever be utilised...
verba ex verba - non verba ex figura, numerus vel littera:
verba ex et enim verba!
meaning for meaning...
not meaning borrowed from either the associated
or dissociation...
or dissociation and a(n) association...

   well... it just so happens that i have... something of a...
half-wit... canvas of artificial-intelligence
to work with... it's basic intelligence...
                           just what i need.
Craig Verlin Aug 2019
It is an image of a man.
Behind him, a shadow stretched long and thick—
like tar. Like shoulder blades. Like a feeling you could lay in.
The shadow is a well, a pit, a grave.
The shadow is a hole the artist forgot to fill.
The image is a sadness, dark and shoulder-width. 

The image is a child at the beach,
a toy plastic shovel in his hand.
The image is his brown cap with the strap and
the gold embossed letters “Lowry Park Zoo,”
the sand from the shovel flying forever
backwards without a glance—
tiny diamonds caught by the wind and small hands,
flowering downward into great mountains. 

The image is a child in a hole shoulder-width,
sand in a landslide behind him,
resting for only a moment before cascading back
into the shadow again. 

The image is a false progress.
The child is an old man, the beach a graveyard.
Watch the shovel. Watch the sand as diamonds as dirt as time.
Watch the wind. Watch the crooked hands.
Watch it trickle down again, again. The child is an old man. 
The sand is a hole. The shadow is a sadness.
Do they lay in it?

The image is a regression.
In off-pitch impressions I wonder the comforts of the grave—
satin in the coffin. The feeling when there is none.
Do they lay in it?

The image is a man. 
The image is a shoulder-width sadness. 
The image is a boy and an old man laying in the same shadow. 
The image is a hole I forgot to fill.
It must be daylight, twilight, moonlight
or midnight blue, no other colour
would or will ever do to capture
the glorious colour of you.

What words could I pen
how and when should I use them?

they only confuse me
beat me and bruise me,

but blue's always with me
and she's always there.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2021
i once walked from Boulevard Pershing,
near the hotel Concorde Lafayette to the west of Paris city centre
300 metres from the metro station Porte Maillot
to... the 3 ducks hostel... 6 Pl. Etienne Pernet...
upon arrival i was welcome by an American
bartender... and when asked how my journey was...
well, i walked...
you walked?!
yeah... i walked... my first time in Paris...
like my first time in Stockholm... solo... in a hostel...
upon landing it really was a city of lights...
the Eiffel tower was my beacon and my hypnotism...
once upon a time i had that pet project
of going to capital cities alone...
Athens... well... i thought: Venice might be better
than Rome...
i sure as hell i visited Berlin... i was going
to hit on Prague before... the last year & some happened...
3 years in Edinburgh: i wish there were more...
London dragged me back in...
but... it's one thing to walk in a capital city...
taking the public transport...
it simply doesn't allow you to sample the entire:
horizon of the city... the nooks & crannies that
otherwise: a bicycle ride allows...
just today i thought... enough of this area of
makeshift London that's being eaten up...
that the county of Essex is willing to give up...
i need to get some urban salt on my face:
you do return from a heavily urbane area
with a residue on your face that looks like
***** salt... but feels like the purest of sands...
from circa Havering-atte-Bower...
a little village on the hill with Bower Wood
Havering County park... oh... i'd say
1 mile from my home...
from there to Canary Wharf via Canning Town...
via Barking...
taking the CS3... i passed... just after leaving
Barking i came across architecture i can only
best describe as...
postmodernism "gothic"...
            gothic architecture looks menacing...
so did all i passed...
but it was gothic tinged with postmodernism...
it was very much cubism meets Lowry...
although there's this very short segment
of the CS3 where you ride past the
recycling centre at Beckton...
all shaded by trees and a roundabout
underpass... the route becomes very narrow
and there are just enough turns to make you
galvanize your speed a little...
it's a brutal landscape... Barking in general
is brutal... it feels very much like:
Babylon with Pyramids... but the sun was shining
today: and you know what happens
when sunshine glees over Glasgow:
it can almost feel like Edinburgh...
sunshine elevates everything... just like Edward Hopper
said: i just want to paint sunlight...
even the grimmest: grimiest of place can
be elevated & it doesn't have to feel all ******...
before arriving at Barking i had to pass through
the multicultural hub of Ilford Lane...
sari shops... halal butchers...
as a white immigrant: since i'm not... English
per se: by the demands of "born & bred"...
& even thought i was the only one of about
3 white, male faces... it somehow didn't bother me...
seems like being a minority has had its perks
all along!
Asians girls looked at you like some curiosity
equivalent to a spice mixture of cumin,
cardamom, coriander... cinnamon...
must be the suntan: the copper-neck appeal
i sometimes acquire in the summer months...
if these people are "supposedly" conquering these
lands... do they think their...
high-spiritedness and vigour will not
wane under the scrutiny of the weather?!
i sampled some of their imam rhetoric...
yes yes... but once all the english girls have been
vehicles for **** & revenge and rooted out...
while the white boy'ohs are not reproducing with them?
where's the revenge going to come from?
that desert is going to dry up...
these people will return to their own
sacred rites of: oculus per oculus...
an eye for an eye... no?
i'm starting to see the bigger picture... the tomorrow:
i'm starting to like living with a minority status...
it's called Darwinism: proper...
not Darwinism upon inception: with all
that eugenic crap: let cousins **** cousins!
this is... how a species adapts...
i can't exactly grow a pair of wings or become
invisible... i make concessions...
i adapt by... well... making compensation
leverages...
if i'm not a white: native of these lands...
i'll fit in such fine: or so i hope...
after all... a monochromatic society makes much
for nausea... esp. when i return to Warsaw...
my grandmother is still living... when she dies...
though... what reason will i have to visit that
old... fable of a land of my birth?
the English in me is already my own...
i own it...
i'm not just going to give it up...
like i won't give up reading philosophy books in
****** since... they make no ****** sense to me in English:
i'll just read them in one language...
and translate myself an interpretation...
that's how it's going to work...
it worked just fine up to now...
why should it stop?
come to think of it... what happens in eastern vs.
western households?
oh you know:
in western households if a man / woman is still living
with their parents... rather than:
living alone... & paying rent to some stranger...
for some hope of reaching some one night stand quota...
then they're LOSERS...
there's a particular spice to this word...
it's best associated with Sichuan Pepper...
that tongue numbing sensation best associated
with: how the French & the English slowly: but surely...
lost the trill of the R...
there's not much to LOSE when the fatalism
of mortality has your ***...
there's only a waiting game while
some people amass more... and have to give it all
up or... leave it to... failed ******* sons
akin to: how the amassing of wealth & prestige of
the Krupp family became
  Arndt von Bohlen und Halbach....
these supposed "losers"... amass nothing...
leaving nothing... all the better for it...
at least not a dead-end lineage... just dead-end
per se...
but... i can clean around the house... take care
of the cats... be a custodian to the affairs
of the "estate": make a variation of tortellini
with a beetroot borsch...
and... chances are... i will not see my parents
enter an old-people's home...
neglected: relegated to merely a dementia
status...
clingy or... how do those eastern
inter-generational households fair...
compared to the west's championing
of individualism when...
  rent goes **** knows' where: Arab moguls?
two fine examples...
one door down a Nigerian couple in their 60s...
their son & daughter still live at home...
two doors down a Sikh couple likewise
living with their son & daughter...
their son recently managed to throw a houseparty
that attracted circa 30 guests...
oddly enough: he wasn't regarded as a: LOSER...
opposite my house: an English household...
the younger daughter will be moving two doors
down parallel to my house with her would-be hubby...
so she will be in: screaming distance from her
mother's home...
if i am to be paying rent?!
to some anonymous ghost face ****...
forget it!
Darwinism doesn't imply: adapt to the hard-earned
orthodoxy of eugenics in tow:
after all... eugenics came prior to Darwinism:
i don't care much for Darwinism...
i didn't care much for the Copernican inversion
of whether it's a heliocentric or a geocentric model...
in terms of perspectives and coordination:
orientation: i need the "flat-earth" model
to get from X to Y... i don't exactly need
a Z... unless i'm... ******* sailing!
but even then... "Z" doesn't require me the allowance
of... "the earth isn't flat"...
sure as **** it does... if i'm going
from X to Y... no?
the anglo-saxon households will fall, last...
when it comes to inter-generational living
"fall-outs"... i don't mind the periodic celibacy
patterns... if i feel the urge to "get some"
after one of my feline companions entices me too much
while grooming her:
i'll ******* to the brothel and get it over & done with...
i don't need a dating app to... waste my time over...
dating apps... i so *******
oblivious to their existence i can ast least attest
that happens in real life...
i'm also out to not crave ambitions for
offspring... funny how that works...
well... so who's going to take care of you?
me... with the proper incisions when the game is up...
i figured out around cruxes on my body where bloodflow
is concentrated...
under my right-arm-pit...
in my neck... all that's required is a hot bath...
and plenty of mr. whiskers und ms. amber...
i mean: for ****'s sake...
reinterpret Darwinism with individualism:
the "premise" stands:
i will not give up my private library collection...
cooking food others enjoy...
ownership of two cats... but still "living" with my
parents for... four empty ******* walls...
and a chance to somehow... merely...
bring back a dating partner for nothing more
than a fling...
it's like that quote i heard about Neopolitan cooking:
minimum effort: maximum satisfaction...
that's all life has to be...
mind you: is it so... ******* unbearable
to not be able to love your parents, esp. when you can?
i'm always put off my white, western women,
they want too much...
they're never of interest to me:
i know what game they're playing...
i never heard of a herd of "individuals"...
sure... rent... but we can **** in the garden...
in the forest... like this one spice-up i picked up
off of a park bench... a Thai Surprise...
we ****** in the garden... so?
Darwinism without a superiority complex
of the people who conjured it up...
can become... refreshingly... revelatory...
you just don't need to line other people's pockets...
i never used darting apps... never felt a dire
greed to do so...
CS3 is fine while cycling towards Canary Wharf...
i like the grift... the grift...
but the CS2 from Ilford towards St. Paul's...
it's great *** Mile End: on your way back...
but little Bangladesh coming in...
it leaves me with a distaste... too much of
Asia... not enough European postmoderist
"gothic" grit.... nothing too much familiar with
industrialisation...
coming back on the Bow overpass
at Stratford... an Asian couple...
let's just leave a tinge of scrutiny on her...
she looked like Cindarella: before donning
on her ****-up make-up and her glass
stiletto...
she pushed the various traffic buttons
and
stood... in the middle of the bicycle route...
thank god i was d0nning my sunglasses..
it's impossible...
i was eyeing her up...
she was eying me up...
her boyfriend was next to her...
eh... the niqab does little...
easier to don a pair of sunglasses:
if the concept of playing poker arrived for the Arabs
"too late":
i'm pretty sure the ninja attire could be made
simultaneous to the niqab...
chicken or the egg...
did the niqab give birth to the ninja
attire, or what it...             ?

but there's a trajectory where household living
resembles little what: investment in
wholesale looks like...
i like to think of Darwinism as a way
to adapt...
to make concessions...
  they're not pretty concessions...
as an ape... supposedly... i can hardly make
peacock remarks... or therefore:
peacocking... years later though...
but by then...
the fear of exploitation will summon
a paranoia in me of diabolical proportions...

i will have to summon: ****! mode.

that being said... CS2 ius great on your way back from
Canary Wharf.... to... the outskirts of...
what is London... what isn't London...
best life in Paris, though...
best life after life's over: Edinburgh: for sure...
in that respect... London's traffic.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
when i feel, when i really feel like writing,
i turn from being a snowman, and become
an avalanche.

god, i love the tease!
  it's like tickling a bear -
ever wonder why large dogs
rarely bark, and you always
see these puny chihuahuas barking?
it's a phenomenon i've considered
a great deal of times -
puny dogs bark all the time,
even if there's no impedeing sense
of danger, while large dogs
      bark: as their last resort:
or a hello! look at me!
i'm lord of the manor, come near
me and you're chow mein,
or a tartar steak!
    god, i love big dogs,
   gifts me with the idea of
a **** the size of an elephant's trunk:
to boost my ambitions.
ha ha.
    
i always wanted to speak like
sean connery, or shaun o'connery,
or shea mac'connery,
can't remember which one was
catholic, and which one was protestant,
or which one was supposed
to be my uncle...
          evidently? none of them!

point being... i'm not a ****** predator,
i'm ***-prone: as any man finish
a 100m sprint **** first, head later,
but i am a predator of some sorts,
i hunt for observations,
you know, the type that looks
for telescopes without the astronomer -
the microscope without the biologist,
the kaleidoscope without a john lennon...

god, i love this word: *kauczuk
-
imagine a monkey without
   a rubber ball -
what you gonna give poor gorilla heirmondo
next, a drum kit?!

funny you should ask...
i'm actually gagging for the day i'm called
a ****...
          i sent a letter to santa claus for
confirmation date that it could or would or
will happen...

    don't you *** it?!

come one, everyone knows the holocaust
happened,
   but people are still complimenting
the **** army uniform, how chic it was...
for all the wrong, the nazis always have
that one stable and historically bulletproof
observation repetition...

mind you, being a predator of observation
lists two individuals, the maxim perfectionists,
nietzsche & la rochefoucauld -
  no, no bongo-bongo parties around here,
predatory subtleness -
      a teasing voyeurism -
  a tickling sensation - nothing more,
enough for the eyes to feast,
and the rest remaining: grave ridden (as if
it were);

that's why i'm waiting to be teased as a ****,
everyone says: they were the best dressed army,
seems to me that ****** did become an
artist after all... albeit an artist in the fashion
industry...
    and never, was such a worse-attired army
of men defeat the best dressed of the lot...
i admit, the winged hussars of
the polish-lithuanian commonwealth were
a charity shop of pick & mix...
    
     call it: the ***** of "dolce & lagerfeld* -
carlie, dear, come on other,
suit up these ss boyscouts...
  
      as sylvia plath said: all women love a fascist,
except women that... don't know what
the answer to that is...
  nonetheless, fascists seem rather pseudo-****,
given they put so much effort into
their uniforms...
      ****** & mussolini,
i can see that brand selling,
given the backlog of nostalgia behind the brand,
you can see why so many wartime movies
have been made,
  and why americans and others are so
eager to don the **** uniforms...

       they called the catwalk:
khaki on black... it's the nuo white & black...

    and so whittle dolphie became the artist
in a double-edged sword moment,
an artist in auschwitz, and an artist in
fashion!
           this is exactly what british humour
looks like, i remember this one time
in edinburgh, this poncey english guy came
on stage in a comedy club,
  his opening line?

'you might recognise the accent...
  it's educated.'

beat that! mind you, beat the persistent fascination
with the **** army uniform,
   the totenkopf insignia...
look at them, poor buggers, slobbering as ever...
always tempted by the fashion,
it's always the fashion!
     nazis did one thing better than their
genocidal psychopathic mania:
  army fashion...
  the crispness of their attire is still
the most formidable apple of eden to be bitten,
and how easily people don the attire,
almost with a sense of pride & a chance of
bagging a bride too...

amazing... it's called something else in asia...
something about
   hsinchu city of taiwan with a bunch
of black geese marching...
      chan something...
haven't figured it out...
  but it seems there's a translation back
from asia among white men:
     kamikaze: hey, i'm all up for cultural
exchanges...

there we have it the new dolce & gabbana -
   ****** & mussolini -
      the best dressed pair of ****-wits
the world has ever seen...
     staggering as it is:
people will remember the nazis more
for their uniforms and a perfected sense
of fashion of military personnel,
   than their crimes;
****** really was an artist, although
i'm sure he never expected to become
a fashionista on the side;
it'd be nice to see a history in a universe,
where he really did, settle for
a career in still-life painting;
  i'm already speculating that:

his inspiration came from
                                   paul cézanne,
  and somehow precipitated into examples
of l. s. lowry.
I was with you but you were thinking of her
and now I'm with him and I'm thinking of you

By: Witt lowry

— The End —