'Nav' poems - Hello Poetry

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Steve Page Oct 2018

Cityscape

The riled route master and the hacked off hackney carriage weren't bothered by the boris bike, they simply barreled along the bus lane oblivious to the wobble, blind to the blindsided and bent on beating the amber to red, til they were halted by the growth factor of a chelsea tractor straddling lanes and field testing the choice of right or left and failing the screen test set by the sat nav, thereby giving opportunity to the swarm of office staffers snatching their chance and chancing their luck, dancing past with their fat chance of swiping in before nine and avoiding the chagrin of the boss who's been the bane of their short sojourn through the city of lost dreams, chance encounters, thin fortune and rushed hours. This is London.

Route Master = a London bus
Hackney Carriage = a black cab
Boris Bike = rentabike
Chelsea tractor = an oversized suv preferred by families who can afford Kensington & Chelsea

#city #commute #traffic

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Harshit Jain Apr 2017

Meri Beti

Seetaro mai akela chaand si thi wo
Foolon ka mehekta guldan si thi wo
Thi nadi jaisi aviral,chanchal
mere dil ka haal si thi wo

Ghani dhoop mai chav si thi wo
Kisi geet ki addaon si thi wo
Thi hava si mehekti, komal
Mere dil ka bhav si thi wo

Beech majhdhaar mai nav si thi wo
Khusian ka pura gaon si thi wo
Thi koyal si meethi,nishchal
Mere man ka abhiman si thi wo

Paido par wo patto waali hari bhari koi daal si thi wo
Holi ke rango mai sabse saadi ek akeli gulaal si thi wo
Thi wadi kasmiri koi
Mere geeton ka sur aur taal si thi wo

Mandir mai wo shankhnaad si,pooja ka prasad si thi wo
Baarish mai mitti ki khushboo,badal ka dharti se sanvaad si thi wo
Thi meri wo beti pyari,usse hi ghar 'harshit' tha
Mere ghar mai sooraj si,Mere ghar ki shaan si thi wo

Thi ab wo jo nahi rahi,aakhir khata kya thi ki usne
mana hi to kia tha na beta shaadi se,
Par dosti ka haath bhi to badhaya tha
Teri Bezatti toh nahi thi ki usne
Fir kyun tune usko har ghar badnaam kia
Dushman na kare,dost hokar tune aisa kaam kia
Chali gayi ab chhod ke mujhko,wo akele jeevan ki saanjh mai
Meri khushiyan,meri duniya,meri pyari jaan si thi wo
Meri pyari jaan si thi wo

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Cynthia Oct 2016

māksla

sveiks dārgais
šodien tev īpaši izceļās acis
vai zināji?
tās mirdz vairāk nekā parasti
vai tu ieraudzīju kaut ko, kas tās apžilbināja?
vai varbūt tās cenšas ieviest gaismu sev apkārt?
apspīdēt cilvēkus, kurus tās uzlūko (?)
vai varbūt tās vienkārši glabā sevī noslēpumu
man nav ne jausmas
tikai tu to zini
es vēlos kaut tu man pateiktu
kaut tu uzrunātu mani
kaut vai bez vārdiem
bez skaņām
bet ar klusumu
ar kustību
ar savu ķermeni
to skaisto ķermeni, kurā dzīvo tava dvēsele
ķermeņa valoda ir pati skaistākā
tā spēj pateikt vairāk nekā simtiem vārdu
tavs smaids ir skaistākā rindkopa šajā stāstā
tu to atkārto tik bieži,
katru dienu
taču man nekad nepietiek..
nekad nevar būt par daudz tava žilbinošā smaida
manas lūpas nekad nespēj pretoties
acis iemirdzās,
sirdspuksti paātrinās
un sākas jauns stāsts,
kurā piedalās mūsu ķermeņi
tie raksta ar saviem locekļiem
pasaku, kurai nav beigu
tā nekad nebeidzas
bet gan turpinās
arī tagad
manas acis uzlūko tevi
tās iekāro tevi no jauna
mana sirds alkst pēc tavas mīlestības
ak mans mīļais
es vēlos veidot jaunu mākslas darbu
paņemsim rokās otas un ļausimies
nedomāsim par laiku
jo laika mūsu pasaulē nav
esam tikai mēs
un mūsu māksla

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Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018

can't hack? facebook was built on ctrl + c

<!DOCTYPE html>
    <html class="guide-pinned show-guide content-snap-width-1 no-focus-outline" lang="en" data-cast-api-enabled="true">
        <head></head>
        <body id="body" class=" visibility-logging-enabled ltr gecko gecko-42 exp-inver…th-enabled-snap yt-user-logged-in page-loaded inverted-hdpi" data-spf-name="other" dir="ltr">
            <*** id="early-body"></***>
            <*** id="body-container">
                <*** id="a11y-announcements-container" role="alert"></***>
                <form action="/logout" method="POST" name="logoutForm"></form>
                <*** id="masthead-positioner">
                    <*** id="ticker-content"></***>
                    <*** id="yt-masthead-container" class="clearfix yt-base-gutter">
                        ::before
                        <button id="a11y-skip-nav" class="skip-nav" tabindex="3" data-target-id="content"></button>
                        <*** id="yt-masthead">
                            <*** class="yt-masthead-logo-container "></***>
                            <*** id="yt-masthead-user" class="yt-uix-clickcard"></***>
                            <*** id="yt-masthead-content">
                                <form id="masthead-search" class=" search-form consolidated-form" data-visibility-tracking="CAEQ7VAiEwip5O50vcAhVTwNUKHbXDDosojh4" data-clicktracking="CAEQ7VAiEwip5O50vcAhVTwNUKHbXDDosojh4" onsubmit="if (document.getElementById('masthead-search-term').value == '') return false;" action="/results">
                                    <button id="search-btn" class="yt-uix-button yt-uix-button-size-default yt-uix-button-default search-btn-component search-button" tabindex="2" dir="ltr" onclick="if (document.getElementById('masthead-search-term').value ==…ById('masthead-search').submit(); return false;;return true;" type="submit"></button>
                                    <*** id="masthead-search-terms" class="masthead-search-terms-border " dir="ltr">
                                        <input id="masthead-search-term" class="search-term masthead-search-renderer-input yt-uix-form-input-bidi" type="text" aria-label="Search" title="Search" placeholder="Search" tabindex="1" value="" name="search_query" onkeydown="if (!this.value && (event.keyCode == 40 || event.keyCode == … event.keyCode == 34)) {this.onkeydown = null; this.blur();}" autofocus="" autocomplete="off" aria-haspopup="false" role="combobox" aria-autocomplete="list" dir="ltr" spellcheck="false" style="outline: medium none;"></input>

lement {
    outline: medium none;
}
#masthead-search-terms input {
    background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%;
    border: 0px none;
    display: inline-block;
    font-size: 16px;
    height: 100%;
    left: 0px;
    margin: 0px;
    outline: medium none;
    padding: 2px 6px;
    position: absolute;
    width: 100%;
    box-sizing: border-box;
}
.search-term {
    width: 100%;
}
body, input, button, textarea, select {
    font-family: "YouTube Noto",Roboto,arial,sans-serif;
    font-size: 13px;
}
button, input, textarea {
    font: 12px "YouTube Noto",Roboto,arial,sans-serif;
}
#masthead-search-terms {
    font-size: 14px;
    line-height: 30px;
}
canvas, caption, center, cite, code, dd, del, dfn, ***, dl, dt, em, embed, fieldset, font, form {
    font-size: 100%;
}
body {
    word-wrap: break-word;
    font: 12px "YouTube Noto",Roboto,arial,sans-serif;
}
body {
    line-height: 1;
    text-align: start;
}
hr, html, i, iframe, img, ins, kbd, label, legend, li, menu, object, ol, p, pre, q, s, samp, small, span, strike, strong, sub {
    font-size: 100%;
}

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SW Apr 2021

Nav

Loud disrespectful welp, bone faced Cav
Subdued in soundless sleep, unaware
Here lurks our end, O death stalks us dear Nav
Mine ever foolish sword, dull yet sharp
A prize awaits the dead, not for us
One Flesh, One end, O death hates us dear
Nav

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Aaron LaLux Mar 2017

∆ Maverick Don't Panic ∆

Maverick Don’t Panic

A Bad Boy,
with a good Heart,
at the tail end,
of a head start,

“Oh he’s prolific,
he’s profanic,
he’s depressed,
he’s manic,
he’s processed,
he’s organic,
he meditates and sits,
when he just can’t stand it,

and remember this is just a test so for the love of God please don’t panic,

or take anything for granted,

**** it,

I’m a good kid,
but got some bad habits,
got a good plan too,
just have to enact it,

bad,
but not the baddest,
and if they want it,
they can have it,

the map is,
my plan and,
in other words,
the Atlas is how I Nav this,

a Maverick,
like Cuban,
not Gooding no Sir.,
no Jr. a señor,
well not in age but in position,
in other words they’re minor leagues and we’re major,

a Maverick,
like Cuban,
not Gooding no Sir,
no Jr., a señor,
like Mark,
Zuckenberg,
a stark,
contrast between Comcast,
in other words,
Light & Dark are different castes,
in communications at least,
ComCast Communications Caste,
same waves just different frequencies,

in the sea,
the internet catches,
big fish and small fry,
Dark Shadows and Bright Lights,

right?…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

No Notes...

#facebook #good #crazy #sanfrancisco #illuminati #wordplay #contrast #badboy

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Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015

word on word

so there on the window sill
i sat perpetrating my crime,
one had outside the window denoting the mentally ill
and the other inside the compartment of
a room denoting terrorists,
then i switched hands and opinions...
and then two bright objects of fire appeared
on the skyline... then another two... a perfect rhombus that
traversed the night sky.

i mingled *r.d. laing with the saint benaiah ben yehoiada today...
what a miracle of the slow approach,
i was so desperate for paper i even wrote on a sunday times news review page,
god help me, i feel the need to speak over people in writing.
testament to modern *******: the modern trans-gender phenomenon
is primarily found in st. thomas’ gospel
as entrée of r.d. laing’s **** of paradise artistic spontaneity
away from rigid theory so numerous in the exampled situation
of the lisp acquired on the psychoanalytic couch...
it speaks of turning left to right... up to down... man to woman...
a bit like a sat nav giving directions... you end up in a kingdom
that’s a ditch and the king is adorned not in crimson cardinal
or purple bishop... but pain... this is 1967... no wonder the hippies
died off after people started to dot dot dot post-1967
with the excavatio in translatio to remould western, christian, societies.
that text, says it all! david bowie and alice cooper and marc bolan
with the lipstick and 8 o’clock eye-socket shadows...
but things are picking up / getting serious...
the young ones are on it... post-colonial details i might have you add...
it was bound to happen... vietnam and the daddy longlegs starving man of africa...
built in processor 5.6GB of memory and an iphone...
what?! i’m translating my slavic soul... we fed the mongrels and mongolians
with crusader ***** in the baltic... we disappeared for a few centuries
and came back... blackmailing the airlines for an unsafe crash landing
somewhere in belarus, with the state banquet officiated, of course.
you see.. i’m the silent eager satyr from such paintings by matejko
like hołd pruski and stańczyk... expression beaming with: yes... go on...
spur me on... i’ll gallop to status of stallion with laughter!
all the catholic canonical saints are for people who prefer images
to words.
so there’s laing in 1967 allowed the ancient deciphering of
quasi-egyptian text... and then all hell breaks loose in the now, present...
i’ve got two left hands and two right feet... i think i’ll transverse
in walking like a crab... sidewise... out of here...
you go along with your daily “historical” bullying...
i like my place... outside the post-colonial continuum...
so much so that i even have a theory for the experience:
HE WASN’T THINKING IN HIS MOTHER TONGUE,
THE NATIVITY OF THE SOUL TOOK FORM FROM THE POLLEN
OF THE BODY, MANY IRANIANS AND EGYPTIANS...
HE THOUGHT COLONIAL, HE ACTED COLONIAL...
PREVIOUSLY HE MENTIONED POLAND LENDING AEROPLANES
TO EGYPT... HE ACTED LIKE AN ENGLISHMAN TO A ******...
NOW I SEE HIM LIKE A PENGUIN WITH CHEETAH FUR...
A WORD OF LISP I GATHER...
I WAS THINKING STUPID TRUST... WHILE
A SINGLE WORD OF THE MOTHERTONGUE RESONATED
TO PURSUE CREATIVITY THUS EXPRESSED
UNABLE TO FIND THE 0,0 COORDINATE IN THE
NORTHERN TRANS-EUROPEAN MILITARY COMPLEX.
this is how integration happens in europe: acquire the native tongue
acquire native psychology... don’t acquire the latter
define the former with exactness of body...
conclusion? i did stupid via trust... he did stupid via a blood-thirst
and a michael jackson trick of bleaching the soul
but leaving the body oddly mongrel-like... not so complete
like africans from the caribbean losing the tongue
due to jamaica’s great weather, then moving to england
and starting reggae rap... god knows how those two fitted for a size 12
perfect matching: quick-slow, quick-slow...
slow-quick rat ah rat ah regina duck in dumplings... bewildering
that i didn’t turn grey but turned ginger over the years.
you see this theory? it makes the mongol horse pale in comparison;
dad said: a jew did it! a jew did it! a ******* mid-******* just said: you
(double emphasis, the colon and italics... well i was there,
and this poem is proof that i was there, with her).
then this poem in the background with added photogenic approach...
titled: on ******* who create art.
ahem... napkin for the torero and rare steak to suite:
there they are the geniuses and the mediocre,
sitting in abodes of aspirational peace of the living -
half-dead many of them almost to the core of rotten apples,
with arsenic in apple seeds the last remaining life -
a poisonous mechanisation of activity on the breeding continuum
curtailed (is that implying cut-short?),
horrible ******* to live with,
they sitting knitting words together that make no cardigan fit,
or they’re making 2d rooms with the odd splash of colour
that will never obey the cube but the rectangular canvas,
no use of a poet’s pen in the solace of a quiet pension spaced,
the usurpers of peace among the living among the twins of sabbath,
these ronin of the fountain of solace found in t.v. and slippers...
who let them in?! can you hear poetry with a hammer?
can you hear it on a construction site, or an art gallery or a library?
so there they are, the *******, choosing the most importune of places
to do their craft... in the living spaces of plumbers and electricians...
hardly the place to craft their art when there’s no pulpit to
exercise their crafty practice with the end remark.
why then the plumber the safeguard and incubator nest of home,
and why the cold chill of aqueduct syringe at home for poet?
does no friendliness reside in stressing or not stressing certain words anymore?
perhaps the coalminers will tell me?
they say i am in a coal-mine by the sheer whiteness of disposable white
of canvas... and only among them in solidarity of a brotherhood
by excavating with them the coal that’s their amber burnt at home
and my solitary ink expressed in the library of their darkness of having
bulged forearm forceps of the bicep and no patience for reading... but digging,
i’ll know my orientation in those mines once more...
where the safe and understood route has has not yet been written...
and all that is seen... is the whitened darkness of the blank canvas of
what i peer into stumbling with the inverse... the flashlight of words
against the darkness of the canvas... me and my blind horse.
god i hate live editing... but then again... it keeps me
drunk and soberly paranoid to scrabble in revisions before i doze till morn.

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Eryri Feb 2019

Touring County Sligo
In my Toyota Aygo.

In-built Sat Nav Mishap,
No real road map.

Lost in County Sligo
Cursing my Toyota Aygo.

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Poetic T Oct 2020

She was so, what's the word I'm looking for?
  not *****, some would say submissive.
There is no way she was that, more *******.
But she never let it show, she'd have a way of
controlling the situation to make you think you
        were in charge...

How could I explain it? more like your in a desert,
         thirsty and see a fountain in the distance.
Running towards it your strength disperses,
  and you believe what you see even though your
            swallowing the passing of time.

Even as you choke, you still believe you've
quenched your, I mean her thirst.
          If she was poker, she'd have the winning
hand every time...

So back to the moment at hand, she was so dam
         rough, I had scratches that looked like I'd
had a sleepover at Elm Street.
I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it...
I liked it when she made me trickle.

That itch while at work, as my back
was healing, it turned me on knowing
that she still lingered even though we
weren't near.
       She had this suffocation issue,
but it was kinker than just naked...


It was in a summer dress,
                    and only in the summer.
Like she was seasonal?
I'd lift her dress up. she was pantiless.
           But before that, my hands were even
within her thighs, she was damper than
the grand canyon dry around the edges,
       but between she flowed...

There was no finesse it was all or nothing,
     no gentle hands, deep and hard were her ways.
She knew what she liked. But like a drug,
Its strength diminishes over time,
and the thrill was now near non-existent.
And a frustrated woman isn't one to be trifled with.

So we got others involved, ones that had
the same suffocating view on life.
Constricted on the normality of ***.
The first one, ***. It was embarrassing.
  We'd guest they were more inquisitive
         than had done it before.

We'd had them sign a waiver on the obligation
of what it entailed. A few drinks later,
Ok, more than a few and it was a melting ***
         of flesh, we were all over each other.
      She strangled my other half one-handed
constricting her flow of air, the other fingers
in her mouth being ****** erotically.

I'd never thought of how ****** this would be,
it didn't matter that it was a woman,
the fact she was arching so much.
All because of another stifling her breath.
                    I had my fun though I was deep
in the other,  **** deep as she didn't want to
be penetrated in her flower, she likes her petals clean??
   My other half could see me over the other'ss shoulder.

Enjoying the fact of both woman were in my bed,
              I was getting close, and then it changed.
She saw that I was about to pleasured by another.
Her hands clasped around our new acquaintance.
For such a petite figure she had a grasp like a clamp.

I felt her clench around my external offering,
           and the smile off my other, it was suffocatingly
pleasurable. All three of us slumped at the same time.
The bedsheet was drizzly with the fulfillment
  of all three of us. I'd never experienced such a
moment, it was unexplainably fulfilling.

We rested for a moment, and then as I pulled myself
from this sweaty gathering, I needed to ***.
I know wow how romantic, But you open a valve,
waters going to pour eventually.
   Walking back to the bed all smiles.
     She looked at me with fear, but with a hint of
excitement.

"She's dead,

                            "What dead tired?

  "No you ****-wit, as in you just pleasured
yourself up a corpse you necrophilic *****...

I laughed, as I jumped into bed thinking she
was hoaxing me. But she wasn't moving.
  Holy crap that was an ****** to die for??
  She looked at me sheepishly, no not really I got
kind of confused, she was strangling me and i
was so turned on.

But then I saw you about to lift off, and I didn't
like the fact that it was in another and not me.
So I tightened my grip, I heard her throat crunch
under the pressure, and she came,
either in exhilaration or that she'd just died...
Is it wrong that it was a multiple's!!

I've had doubles with you but that,
                                               I'm still twitching.
Oh' not to the fact that there was a dead blonde
in our bed. But the fact she had a multiple with a dead
woman on top. I brushed that thought away as we
had more concerning things,

I said to her,

"Do we phone the police,
             she signed the waiver?

"Do we phone the police!

  She said in a sarcastic manner raising her brow,

I could never do that dam thing, she was like
a **** trekky when she did that Mmm..
        I'd live long and **** the **** out her in
that cosplay outfit, pity I broke the ears last time.

Crap, I'm getting distracted.

I  could see where she was ******* from,
       why the hell does the dead woman have
***** *******,  whoops my toothpick just
became a great redwood again.

Are you getting stiff off seeing a dead woman's
******* you freak? They are kind of just there,
As she lent across and licked them.
         Oh, there cold, she looked at me
in her I'm ***** look.  We shouldn't waste an
opportunity really, as she opened her legs
and maneuvered her so she could scissor her.

What you waiting for, put your piece in her gob,
her mouth cold against it, but moist enough
that I face ****** her till we both got close
            kissing each other and ******* at the same
time, wow that was intense,
                                        we both sheepishly smiled.

We both got in the shower, the bed damp still from
                  when all three were breathing but her
head slumped to the side and you could see it dripping
out her mouth as if she was sleeping and  drooling
                       on the pillow.. that's gross.

After we were all cleaned up, we had to decide
what to do, the police wasn't an option.
   We'd watched enough dexters to know that
cutting her up was going to be way too messy..
And last time I got a paper cut I fainted.

Grabbing some cling film out the cupboard I started
To wrap her up, beforehand we went to the store
and brought 15 liters of bleach. I used a kitchen
a utensil  with a short straw-like funnel and proceed
to bleach the inside of her ****.. and gave here a detol
mouth wash, we put the rest in the bath and put
her in there, she hadn't started decomposing and
rigor mortis wasn't overly making her stiff like a plank
so she easily sank to the bottom.

After lunch we let the water out, god she looked clean.
But her eyes had become white, like ghost white
staring at me, like she'd known what we did to her.
I tried closing her eyelids but they wouldn't shut,
so I used a permanent marker to color them in..
   What was I thinking, now she looks ****** possessed.
Drying off was like a ritual we were gentle and making
sure her hair was brushed nicely.

Then with the 6 boxes of cling film, we wrapped
her up nice and tightly.
Crossing her arms over her chest seemed like
a nice thing to do. You never realize when
someone says dead weight, just how heavy that is.
We did that nursery rhyme as we threw her in the boot,

A leg and a wing to see the king and yeet...
    I gave her a 7.5 for landing. As we drove off
we took the map out, using sat-nav was a no, no
as we could have our steps traced back.
   There was an old coal mine just twenty minutes
away, what was cool was that there was an opening
that was so deep but not many knew about it.

I know how convenient is that. We parked up and
we knew we'd have to be quick so I slung her over
my shoulder, walking along I got really damp?

"Babe, what the hell is going on?
                     "Is she peeing on me?

I started to gag, but then the bleach smell hit!
       Phew! she was leaking bleach all over my jeans.
Thank **** for that, I knew these were going
to be burnt later anyway and had a spare pair in
the boot just in case. What I come prepared.

As we got to the opening a couple was standing there
throwing a rolled-up rug down the hole?
we both just looked at each other, what's up?
                              Nothing
What's up with you?
                     Nothing!
We just smiled and dropped our cling film roll
down the same hole. they pulled a knife we pulled
a baseball bat out.

Look, we know what we've both done,
   and if we walk away now you, we,
well neither of us will get hurt or have to throw the
others down that hole. How about the saying.
You didn't see it, so it didn't happen,?

They walked off, we walked off calmly.
That went a lot better than I thought as I laughed.
But just as we got to the car we heard a twig snap
right behind us, out of instinct I swung hard
catching him square in the temple.
as he fell he landing on his accomplice.
She was screaming Oh'my god help me..

My other half leaned over her, foot on her wrist
pulling the knife out her hand.. What were you
going to do with this then.

            "*******, she yelled.

No how about I mouth *******,
and with that, she raised the knife up
and shoved it into the hilt of her mouth.
God, i love this woman.
   As she lay there gurgling..
I mean the noise was nasty..
  So she just trod on her throat and silence.

We looked at each other, and started kissing,
    and before you knew it we had steamy windows
handprints visible to what had perspired in here.
As we got redressed and the tension now reduced
we dragged these two both to the hole.
I mean  my girl just grabbed his feet and like
luggage threw him in. She's so awesome.

You do realize we got from accidental murders
to nearly serial killers now.
And you know what it was such a turn on.
     I must admit we were both turned on by death.
We found their car and drove both down the country
lanes making sure that cameras were nowhere near.
We burnt it out, but not before doing donuts in a field
to make it look like joyriders had stolen it..

After that, we had plenty more lovers, false addresses
to entice, and snare our next lover into false security.
We got tech-savvy as well, in the car we had a scrambler
that blocked their mobiles. most didn't even notice
they lost signal, some did and were over-cautious
                   If they didn't come then unlucky them.

But we remembered that everything was to happen
in the bedroom. Gosh that coal mine is now a mosh pit
of broken voices, that crunch just as we orgasmed.
  That never got old, as everyone was different some
***, others ****** them selfs, that was new and gross.
But luckily we had mattress protectors on and plenty
more in the cupboard. To date, we must have made
love and silenced at least 12 over the last few years.

Only in the summer though,
  and the dresses, god she looks so hot...

Got to go through as our new friend
just turned up in guess what in a summer dress
of all things.
           We just looked at each other and smiled.

#summer #suffocation #lover #*** #serialkiller #death #*** #****** #adult

Continue reading...

Donall Dempsey Oct 2016

WHEN THE MERDE HITS THE FAN

WHEN THE MERDE HITS THE FAN

Our Sat. Nav's French
is eh...how you say

TRÈS TRÈS
. . .MERDE!

She transforms
Châteauroux into Chatterbox/

She morphs Le Harve>>>
into Le Have Her!

We can only laugh en français!

Streets with longer wording
become simply a slur

of wild guesses. More merde!

Here we be
on the road to Rouen.

Miss Sat. Nav. tells us it's the road
to ruin.

Aghhh...Paris pops up
Who put Paris there!

Even more merde!

We begun to distrust
Miss Sat. Nav.

She sulks for miles.

Insane we are
in the Seine.

Now we drive up
the Loire river.

Straight5 up the middle
with our high-lighted route

jockey along side us
in purple

like a riderless horse
winning the Grand National.

We cast her into
the back seat

make the ferry
( no thanks to her)

....ju....ju...just!

Continue reading...

Cynthia Dec 2013

c o f f e e

Kafija
citiem tā vairāk tīk melna
citiem balta
bet man bez cukura.
Kafijas garša ir neaprakstāma
nevajag lsd vai mdma
jo kafija spēj aizstāt visu.
Tai plūstot manī
es sajūtos kā paradīzē
jo kafijā ir kaut kas īpašs,
kaut kas tāds,
kas nav citos dzērienos.
Kafija liek man aizmirsties
un man tas patīk.
Mana burvju dzira
uz mūžū...

Continue reading...

TERRY REEVES Apr 2016

DRIVERLESS CARS

There is no driver - go anywhere for a fiver
Pod - cars troll Milton Keynes by no means
seen piloted in four years time - where's mine?
Then they come together in the land of never - never

The sat-nav tells us where we're going
ready to alight when it's finally slowing
what will they think of next? Send a text
with your suggestion - normality's in regression

No one is to blame when there's an accident
nothing is seen to describe an incident
however, at least no one can go on strike
and I won't be reduced to travel by bike

The atmosphere is electric, technology hectic
it was bad enough when we decided to go metric!

#driver #regression

Continue reading...

Raul M Murray Jul 2020

Stigma

Some people say Im mad I just blame the L-RAD
Attacked by services syndicate post grad
Breaking the code of conduct that's sad
Criminal cause nullify's the collaborative ad
All privileged storm troopers got more than I have
Is the conscience alive while watching that sat-nav?
As a key worker your care is what we have
But straying for a kickback is a dent & bad
The mental health stigma is the foot soldiers weapon
Labelling us mentally ill with the DSM con
Exclaiming we're mental while the victim is alone
Stigma comes from the compound hear us groan
Hearing me everywhere have traits of a stalker
Attacking innocents with energy weapons lawbreaker
Violating human rights piggy back hijacker
The conspiracy hypothesis is the startler
Whats the biological molecular structure
Of a mental health disorder
A caucus of people of who can shout louder
Followed by misrepresentation from a reporter

#stigma #psychiatry #mental #health #disorder #psychosis #schizophrenia

Continue reading...

Alan McClure Dec 2011

Great-Grandpa's Map

We just can't make them
like this anymore.
The skill and craftsmanship
have been sacrificed
on the altar of accuracy
and machines and computers
have sterilised
the smell of hard work and love.

To make such a map
with no satellites, no certainty
meant wallowing in the mystery of the world.
In the space between knowing and supposing
there was a beauty
we may now miss, or deem unimportant.

However,
if I want to get from my house
to your grave, to pay my respects -
through the shopping malls
and bypasses,
the glass and steel towers
you could never have imagined,

I will use my sat-nav
and be grateful for it.

Continue reading...

jeremy wyatt Jan 2011

Word play part three

Daisy, Daisy give me your answer do........
boy! That Cadillac was one hell of a piece of engineering.
Burned a long time, like it enjoyed the pain of the flames.
He smiled at the thought.
Handmade by union men the way it should always be.
Not those ******* up ***** like Jimmy Hoffa either.
That *******, probably a ****** like hoover.
The image of him in a basque stuck.
Made him angry, but he soon reined it in.
Lecter was never angry. Not in the books.
He prefered the books, no change-the -ending for the mass appeal.
******* movies.
He was cautious now, the fake i.d. for the rental would fool most.
He was pushing things, her blood in the trunk even burnt black worried him. Next time will be better.
In Daisy's book was a circled name with hearts drawn around it.
Louisa. Her address as well. Nice and easy. 200 miles to go.
Make like Rutger in The Hitcher, move west....
The VW Rabbit was a ****** car after the Caddy.
The two kid's didn't want to give it up easy, but they did in the end.
They looked so silly, tied back-to-back in the rear seat, legs broke to squeeze them in.
Made him smile all through the night.
No blood this time, not yet anyway. Playing Slipknot to **** him off, little *****.
Well write a song for these two, clown boy.
He had looked on their lap-top at the poetry site.
Saw the latest post from the pub landlord. He was a little confused, this poem didn't seem to be telling him his next move.
He dragged them out into a ditch before dawn, stood on their necks to **** them, like the coyote trappers did, cruel *******.
No blood, just **** all over each other as they died.
Maybe he'd get a reward poem for doing it, in the meantime finding Louisa would keep him occupied.
The vw had a cheap sat nav, hope she's home.....

Continue reading...

Robby Cale Feb 2010

Hey, Have you ever been in a play where you blank out, deer in headlights, just forget your entire monologue and have to wing the whole thing?

I...
I..
Aye aye aye.
I am..
What I am..
I am dracula.
And I bid you welcome
To the first day
of the rest of your
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of
The best of times, it was the worst of times,
No.
This time, it's personal.
Actually, there is no time
Like the
Present arms
Out as a gesture of good
Will you please just give me a line?
No.
I just have to think.
I just have to think.
I think,
Therefore I am
Saving a bunch of money on my car insurance.
And ba-da-ba-ba-ba I'm lovin' it!
And I love the smell of nav..
Navels in the morning.
And I like big butts and I cannot lie
How like I like what is in the work.
The chance to do unto others as you would
You please just give me a line?
Come on.
There's gotta be a line that
you..
B-line!
As the crow flies!
Because the longest way round is
The shortest way home.
And there's no place like home
Of the braves.
Brave.
I just gotta be brave
And keep this up
Up, and Away
Way better to
Reign in hell, than serve
Some of the other white meat.
Because no,
I can always just
Open up a can of worms,
Which by any other name
Would taste as sweet.
And just feast on life,
You know?
Because the way to a man's heart is through his
bloodstream.
Which is thicker than water.
So you can lead a horse to water,
But you can't make it
......
Walk on it.
And don't walk on eggshells.
Walk lively!
Walk on the moon!
Walk on cloud
Nine ways to skin a cat.
Because they make take our lives,
All nine,
But they'll never take our freedom
To go cuckoo for cocoa
Puff
The magic dragon,
Who lived by the
See what a tangled web we
We've got to stick together if we're
Gonna get through
This
Is the long and the short of it.
This, above all else,
To thine own self be
Ware the ides of march.
No.
To thine own self be
Or not to be,
That is the
...
...
something.
..
..
Something's rotten in denmark!
No, There's something on the wing!
No, something wicked this way
Come what, Come may,
Come Watson, come.
The game is afoot.
But frankly, my dear,
I don't give a ****.
Because you're ****** if you do,
And ****** if you
Don't you hear me calling for line?
Come one, it's survival of the fittest up here!
..
..
No, I'll just be strong.
I'll just be STRONG! Yeah, Army
Strong enough for man, but made for a woman,
Because you know what, honey,
it's not you.
It's me.
The number one prescribed band
Doctors choose most
for their night time,
sniffling,
Sneezing,
coughing,
aching,
stuffy-head,
Fever,
so you can rest medicine!
I'll be the king
In this world,
You gotta hope for the best,
And prepare for the worst,
And just take whatever god
Send me a line!
Please!
Thank you.
Avas me mateys,
Alas dear lads,
There she blows,
Off with her head,
But where's the cream filling?
I jest.
Rest assured you're in good hands with
All's fair in love and war
Because you gotta keep your friends close and your
Lovers closer,
Because hey.
Any friend of yours is a
Friends don't let friends drive!
So grab a plane!.
If he leaves and you're not on that plane,
you'll regret it.
Maybe not today,
Maybe not tomorrow,
But soon.
And for the rest of your
Life comes fast,
so grab
A horse! A horse!
My kingdom for a horse!
Or better yet, beam me up, Scotty!
Scotty.
.......
.....
...
..
Scotty.
Scotty, what we have here
Is a failure to communicate.
Scotty!
sniff
Eh tu, scotty?
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
I don't know.
Cry.
sniff
Cry!
Cry havoc,
and let's slip the
Rolling stone gathering no mass.
And just slip me a line!
Someone!
I'm between a
Rock and a hard day's night up here!
Here...
here...
here's the raw end of the deal.
You see I remember a moss of things,
but not distinctly.
So just don't let it end like this.
Tell them
I said
......
something.

Continue reading...

Autumn Bliss Oct 2015

Vehicle

If poetry is a vehicle
I turn on the engine
Move through to high gear
And take myself away

If poetry is a vehicle
I lubricate the hinges
Wash off the dirt
And chase a sunny day

If poetry is a vehicle
I exhale the toxic emissions
Put away the sat nav
And find my own way

If poetry is a vehicle
It will take me to my destination
But will teach me on my journey
To better days

#self #poetry #writing #journey #learning #growth

Continue reading...

Gaffer Apr 2015

The 49 Bus.

I'm going to build a human rocket
Okay, stop there, let me take you back to chemistry class
Remember the blast, the six foot hole
I know, but I was young then, now I know what I'm doing
Okay, let me remind you, your supersonic car
The passengers on the top deck of the number 49 watched you flying by
You caused mayhem
Exactly, now I've recalculated
My god, the exact words you used with your rotorless helicopter
People have stopped using the 49 now
Mrs Brown took a heart attack when she saw you with a screwdriver
You have to stop man
Can’t, I'm on the verge of greatness
Don’t use that word, verge
Your electric car, and the mile long length of cable
That poor driver, when you turned in front of him
He just stopped the bus, walked up to the psychiatric hospital, and committed himself
Well I can hardly be blamed for that
Never understood why he gave up the teaching job
Look, just go down the Job centre, they’ll fix you up with something
Now promise me
Okay,I’ll go down the Job centre

One week later
News has just come in of a suspected terrorist attack in London, reports of an Exocet missile flying round Big Ben have been confirmed.
Police have now confirmed the missile was in fact a human rocket.
Latest reports coming in, seem to suggest the terrorist has been killed by a Double decker bus, we also believe the driver was attacked by the passengers, suggesting a second terrorist was involved.
Police have now totally ruled out the attack on Big ben as a terrorist attack, reports coming in suggest the human rocket was in fact an ex chemistry teacher, sketchy reports are also coming in regarding the 49 bus, which seemed to be a hundred miles off route.
Passengers tell of the horrendous journey,the bus company say the driver had removed the route sat nav, replacing it with a revolutionary sat nav he had invented that day.
As a mark of respect, the bus company say they will be changing the 49 to the new 50. Relaunched that day, all was going well for the new driver, till a large Bat shaped object landed on the windscreen.

Continue reading...

Christopher Victor Russon Jul 2019

Technologically speaking.

Books will soon be fading out
Devices are what we explore
Technology will keep progressing
We are improving more and more
There will be another way too write
They will say no need for ink
Just press the words on your tablet
We have newer ways to think.

Now everything is download
And we are ordering things on line
Soon banks will be run by computers
The sign of these changing times.
Things seem to be moving faster
More so than the speed of light
Keeping up is very hard
When things change overnight.

Now cars will soon go electric
And no drivers will need to drive
It will be similar to a sat nav
We should never be surprised
Who'd think the time would ever come
Where technology rules this earth
Say no to political robots
That simply will never work.

Basically just a fun poem and exaggeration
Of some possibilities. not to be taken seriously
Maybe the moon for holidays in the future.

Continue reading...

TERRY REEVES Feb 2016

I DON'T WANT TO DYE

THE AMERICANS SPELL GREY WITH AN 'A,'
THEY LACK SUBTLETY SO THEY SAY,
THAT ALL CATS ARE GREY IN THE DARK,
AND IF YOU ASK A DOG - 'DOES IT HURT?
HE'LL REPLY -
'ONLY WHEN I BARK!'
SOMEONE BOUGHT ME SOME KEY RINGS,
SHOWING A MAP OF PENANG AND AUSTRALIA,
A MALAYSIAN DOLLAR - THEN I HEARD THE DOG HOLLER,
THEN I HEARD THAT YOU COULD SPELL CENTRE TWO WAYS,
MAYBE YOU COULD MAKE A CHOICE ON DIFFERENT DAYS,
I SUPPOSE THAT WE SHOULD HAVE A THANKSGIVING FOR ALL
THAT, WE HAVE AN I-POD, I-PHONE AND A SAT-NAV,
LIFE'S A TURKEY, A BARKING DOG AND A BEACH,
WHEN I GO FOR THE DYE - IT'S OUT OF REACH!

#terry #reeves

Continue reading...

Nigdaw Feb 2023

spent

when time was something that passed

rather than to be grasped
finishing post in sight
chequered flag on the sat nav
telling you you've arrived

when time was acres of summer sunshine

not pollution coated air, holes in the ozone
worrying about global warming
but still building building building
for the future they say....

when time was your own to cherish

not jobs to do meetings to attend
places to visit but not really see
bills to pay questions to answer
a debt to honour for the ever after

when time just existed
it felt like forever
now there's no forever after

#spent #time #passed #debt

Continue reading...

The uniVerse Mar 2016

Battle Ready

My pen is my sword
and my strokes are broad
to cut away
at death and decay
the ink is the blood
that I have shed
my thoughts so real
you have read
to allow you to feel
my pain instead.

I write what I know
not for show
or to impress
I invest
my heart and soul
into every line and verse
my agony is real
every word I feel
or have felt
for this deal
I have been dealt
not aces
but deuces
yet I still reduce this
to a single atom
how can you fathom
this much pain
the mental strain
that it takes
from the moment I wake
till my last breath intake
I forsake all happiness
for the sake of anything less
then victory.

Do your ears deceive
or your eyes what you read
I will do anything to succeed
I was born battle ready
my arm grapple steady
for my life’s course
was already set
as my life force
is not easily met
no sat-nav needed
or teachers heeded
for I have featured
in so many battles
and always succeeded
could you take a fatal blow
to your temporal lobe
without being K.O'ed?
'cause I'm still walking
fighting fear with fear
still grinning ear to ear
I have no equal or even peer.

Extract from a rap I wrote on 25/01/14

Continue reading...

Spencer Dennison Sep 2014

Problems

I keep my problem
on a leash, next to me at all times
and named him "Jim".
For too slim are the chances
to make more, the last moment dances,
the moonlit fancies.
Despite each and every one of my flaws,
I still manage to drop rhymes
like I drop jaws.
I've had problems, but now the claws
are out
and I can scream, yell and shout
as loud as I can
but the noise will not even register
above the applause.

I'm breaking all the laws
that I have set for myself.
It's always been easier to throw it out
than fix it.
Life is like a drink,
the way that I mix it
and I've seen people kick back
fly through life on a crash course
but I don't need to try it
because it isn't really living
if you do it on auto-pilot.

I won't try to deny a thing,
I've got problems,
but they aren't all I have.
I nav-igate
through a world of hate
and it's always swim or sink
and suffocate.
I've got issues,
but in the face of all those who said
I was "not that great",
They'll have a date with a leg brace
before I let them make me believe it.

#anger #hate #thoughts #denial #slam #problems

Continue reading...

Mike Hauser Jun 2014

Trust

I woke up this morning
With the feeling there was something missing
So with all that I have being the clothes on my back
I started out for who knows where

I felt the desire to search for trust
But it turns out it's just my luck
I had come upon the wrong address
Under the suns glare my sat nav blared 'make a U-turn' ahead

Trust up and moved on down the road
Who in this day and age would have ever known
Seems that trust felt the need to leave
And without trust who now can we believe

Perhaps it made friends with love
Or maybe made friends with deception
Something I would never know
And so I was back on my own

I am now on the road these days seldom taken
To find trust and help it prosper
I ask everyone I see if they could help tell me
But it seems trust is only a whisper

I will continue on in my travels
With that strong desire to fill trusts needs
As I am open to any direction
And all possibilities

Another collaboration with Simpleton. The first two are on her site if you haven't already checked them out please do. Plus she's a wonderful poet and has more than enough poems to entertain.

Continue reading...

Donall Dempsey Oct 2017

WHEN THE MERDE HITS THE FAN

WHEN THE MERDE HITS THE FAN

Our Sat. Nav's French
is eh...how you say

TRÈS TRÈS
. . .MERDE!

She transforms
Châteauroux into Chatterbox.

She morphs Le Harve>>>
into Le Have Her!

We can only laugh en français!

Streets with longer wording
become simply a slur

of wild guesses. More merde!

Here we be
on the road to Rouen.

Miss Sat. Nav. tells us it's the road
to ruin.

Aghhh...Paris pops up
Who put Paris there!

Even more merde!

We begun to distrust
Miss Sat. Nav.

She sulks for miles.

Insane we are
in the Seine.

Now we drive up
the Loire river.

Straight5 up the middle
with our high-lighted route

jockey along side us
in purple

like a riderless horse
winning the Grand National.

We cast her into
the back seat

make the ferry
( no thanks to her)

....ju....ju...just!

Continue reading...

Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020

edit/3687479/save/

re.: a mini-psychotic detour -
it's off the stream! it's off the stream!
it's been catalogued in: latest!
it's off the stream! i'm aiming to reach
1million words and...
it's off the stream... so the word
count will not be incorporated...

oddly enough i still know how
to use a toaster - and a kettle -
i am also fabled with having to perform
week long chemistry experiments...
why i didn't look into the basics
of

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funny that... how ever many of years
in school, then at university...
i was teased with this language...
for half a semester at university...
the rest of the time school was...
a bit like being in prison...
making sure the prison guards had
a job, were paid...
same with school...
the teachers were paid...

did they teach us basic computer language?
no... i'm pretty sure they didn't...
were we all expected to go to the coalmine
first... before being told to...

which isn't so much lazy as...
i can still remember chalk and chalkboard
at school...
and the holy trinity of (
                                    {      [
how many crescent moons - and altering
a piece of: would be paper?

oh my god... e. e. cummings wasn't even
born...
can you imagine if e. e. cummings
was born 20 years ago...
and started smashing out his:

stand-
;still)

i was honestly being technologicaly
paranoid...
about to cite archive numbers
of "missing" / "shadow-banned"
poo'ems...

e.g. 3479319, 3482972, 3485309,
3484258, 3483083, 3480751,
3480555, 3478158 etc.

but how is that even an over-hyped
reaction - when you're only scratching
the bare minimum -
of what's nonetheless, to me:
a 2 dimensional canvas...

and the point of school was to ensure
that we could fathom our naiveness even more so...
nothing of importance...
just passing the time...
it's not like they could have taught
us to code -
school is not some preface for:
all the subsequent self-taught mechanisms
you will ever encounter:
further on life...

why did i go to school?
why is the cult of school and the nostalgia
culture associated with: popular kids,
nerdy kids, bowling for columbine...
the everyday leftover kids -
i don't even remember being
taught grammar: proper...
we were told... as long as you sound
coherent...
nature came - nurture ****** off somewhere...
but nature didn't come
with <basic> or not so </end of>
with this sort of <bracket>
and this sort of (bracket)
and this sort of {bracket}
and this sort of [bracket] -

"back in the day" you'd read some heidegger
and not "bother" to code -
" " implies /misnomer
/metaphor - solo....

as: burgundy < red
     red being the base marker...
     given that rose < red (is also)...
     since burgundy > red
     since: burgundy ≈ purple...

<approx>
     cardinal < crimson
                                           </approx>

a "debate", and another debate -
in a thesaurus entry...
red - cardinal, crimson, burgundy appear
<sim>
           cardinal < burgundy
                                             </sim>

that is... cardinal ~ burgundy
   ergo cardinal > crimson...
or do we call these the prefixes: quasi~
and pseudo≈?

cerise and all that's suddenly expected to turn
into fluorescence of some underwater Florence...
from carmine and maroon -
brown starts to creep in...

     bobby vinton - blue on blue and...
spaghetti westerns -
somehow i wish to be held in the hands
of a coroner -
i should really think about
donating my body to a medical school -
and bobby has another great track:
velvet blue...
sure... he's no sam cook...
all the way riddled with h'american
suburbia psychopathy:
a smile can hide a thousand
little lies...
a smile is something anti-stoic...
because... the shine of the ivory sheen...

and all i can think of...
not even beginning sentences -
esp. not ending them -
the narrative went with the baby
and the bathwater -
the canary had a coalmine -
the budgerigar had a cage...
the sparrow were tattooed
along with swallows onto convicts
bodies in some jean-genet
minor *****-porky-teen-flick...

tender-bits from some Olaf or Oleg...
or better still an Olga...
recitations would also require:
bumblebees and petula clark!

and that one song that surfed right
above my head and started towing
a hoarding of kippahs
and a... my my... all those
abrahamic beards turned into sabbath
bound brooms for the fwench
brides of boredom...

some might say it's:
strawberry alarm clock -
incense and peppermints...

      as Herman's Hermits aged much worse
than a Donovan...
no milk today and the three kingfishers...

welcome citations...
what's more apparent? someone is clogging
up the arteries of time...
the veins are... the veins that stretch as far
back as jazz from the 1920s...
through to the wock and woll of the 50s...
don't get me started on what's the leftover
of the 90s of the 20th century...

new beginnings they will cite...
here's one... if e. e. cummings was to be born...

swing low
sweet ca

rr
y on

(pass the freedoms pappy
or uncle shylock not interested

- notes on finland the elsewhere estonia,
latvia and li... i will not give lithuania up
that easily... the once grand duchy...
married to the crown -
and all my hitorical adventures -
the sensible today...
the modern sensibility the current man!
me and my historical... what did i call them?

no... they're not idiosyncracies...
they're... detours in infantalism...
but if e. e. cummings was born circa...
and he - he would mosty certainly
succumb to code logic poetics...

bracket (a) "bracket" <b> bracket {c} bracket [d]...
!red is blue -
outright negation...
!red isn't red - the "is" is therefore questionable...
for some reason: no, it doesn't have to be:
but it's blue... blue is !red

should a mr. buckling bucktooth still
be introduced?
well: we do need to indroduce a next to nothing
worth nothing new: cipher unit...

a faux pas needs to have an addressee -
namely me - and i need to wallow in infuriated
agony of a petty detail that no life will
require to cherish!

- and that i am to be fond of tomorrow in that
the only promise that awaits me there is:
me baking a four tier cake - literally...

how terrible a faux pas becomes -
a bull so enraged by red that he becomes blinded
and no longer is able to hone onto
the originating crux -

even somehow "somewhere" with a dasein in
tow... intermitten years...
no... not without a T attached...
and even by now as by then:
that's a misnomer...

- apparently tautology is not a logical
fallacy... but something worth
a thesaurus rex and peacock's: "age of discovery"...
how we can all speak a language
of aphorisms and verb conjectures -
as ever: nouns retain their form as being
the most complete category of everyday
toils - a hammer will never become
an iron shrapnel hanging by a hook chin
off the clide edge of a nail's head...

set with time in mind - temporal thinking...
otherwise set with space in mind -
spatial thinking -
otherwise: when thinking was simply
thinking - exploring the moral architecture...
with that moral-theta of 'ought... and i:
probably not...

save me from linguo-savvy h'american
media pundits and their acronyms!
the boss, the bot the bot, the boss...
the bottom liner - the beatnik and the bolshevik
and... some other b- prefixed outlier...

- otherwise: it's pretty **** evil...
for movies to showcase the hygienic act of
washing ones teeth...
washing the teeth...
spitting out the remaining toothpaste
(oh jeez louis! why don't they simply,
swallow it?)...
and then... not rinsing their mouths?
at this point... rinsing the mouth...
after having just washed the teeth using
toothpaste... is probably as much good
as using mouthwash to begin with...
no one; no one rinses their mouths
after brushing their teeth on film?!

i've too many dreams about teeth
to know - i am actually the sole proprietor of
a memory of my great-grandfather...
and how... he would eat 20 sugar cubes
a day... smoke 40...
and have his first tooth pulled out...
aged 62...
myth, history... journalism?
i dream about teeth...
i would have clearly asked for:
and he dreamed about moths...
but then... oh Eden is still in my grasp...
i can see the next forbidden fruit
hanging...
her name is Layla... and she's...
borderline 16 years old...
i see my Eden already...
i see the forbidden fruit...
apparently i never left...
as i was never apparently Adam...

problem is: you already know what
the forbidden fruit is...
and it's bothering you that i know
what the forbidden fruit is, for me...
now comes the juggling act
of me entertaining not making my will
into a resolve... which is to not:
act upon it...
maybe the apple was too complicated...
maybe a Layla circa 16 is...
a more obvious deterrent...

i think it's also called:
the prosecutor's *****...
but... enough gob and enougn dosh...
you can be the new st. andrew of windsor...
even in the taxi driver the ****
is 0... negated...

my my... what sort of language could
even become so casual...
the burning bridges of informality...
strapped to the formal tool of
orientating one's spatial creed of:
for the exchange of goods and services...
long gone the per se
of a school and a playground...

or some do... want to find and rekindle
the brotherhood of childhood...
they'll join the army...
they'll commit themselves to crime...
some men... it's hardly the adventure riddle
first lady's history society of
rhode island's desperate housewife club...
but...
it's hardly a deviation from imagining
how fudge is packed,
or for that matter: sausages...

a major faux pas...
some e. e. cummings... and what would never
become a code(d) poo'em...
but... for what today had to offer:
and what i had to offer today;
it's enough... it's peaches and cream...
a well balanced butterfly of reciprocation...
it's a death... but a death with a promise
of returning: in situ...
although in situ is always a flexible
requirement when reincarnation is fiddled
with.

Continue reading...

Charlie Hazels Jun 2014

I but you

I set my boundaries
But your angel fire burned them.
I set my sat nav to you and you to I
But I was flying blind.
I wanted to love and cherish you
But as the eldest I take responsibility.
I looked at you and thought I knew all
But all I saw was beautiful heaven eyes.
I lay awake and thought of you always
But I only knew you until midnight.
I thought I just liked you
But you are my class a drug.
I tried not to love you
But you stirred my mortal engines.
I know you seem the only one now
But you can only be the first of your bloodline.
I take tea with you and feel so grand
But you sit on the silver chair.
I love one who I can't trust
But that is the fault in our stars.
I thought you a simple book
But you are quantum physics for dummies.
I could never run through fire
But I would by royal command.
I hoped for a first love that was perfect
But this is beautiful chaos.

The italics are all books that I currently have strewn across the floor- what fitting titles they have.

Continue reading...

Jamesb Feb 2021

No more alongside

In the dream (or perhaps it is forseeing) it is cold,
The air carries whispers of ice
That cut through the warmth of my skin
Like knives,
The quay is deserted,
Quiet aside from the occasional
Breeze induced moan from
A beer bottle tossed casually away
To lie discarded and thereby
A bit like me,

As I single up the mooring lines
Of the boat below me its movement
Becomes greater,
As if shunning the cold stillness
Of the land,
And seeing this I feel kinship
With the waking hull,
And a sense of shared impending journey
To the grey seas
Beyond the harbour wall,

As I work the halyards and
Aged sails creak up the mast
The breeze becomes more evident
In the brisk flapping of canvas,
Rime frost on the gunwhales gives way
To dark hand prints as I steady myself
Moving forward and aft,
Steadily prepping for departure
In a routine well known
Across decades,

Finally all is ready,
The wind picks up,
Sundering the clouds to reveal
A clear black sky studded in diamonds,
The navigation lights
From far galaxies come to light my way
As the backed foresail
Pushes the bows away,
Then with a creak the boom quells
The flapping main,

Approaching the harbour mouth
The wind rises further and a few
Long lazy yet driven rollers
Make their presence felt,
The heel increases as the bow tastes freedom,
Nav lights on the breakwater are
Unnaturally bright but no one sees
Nor waves goodbye,
Nor ever will again for tonight
I that was James just crossed the bar

This is a bit of a recurring theme. Hopefully someone somewhere will appreciate it

#leaving #ending #finalsail #boatsense

Continue reading...

Mateuš Conrad Feb 2017

original sin meditation (nighttime agony)

it's sloppy, it's messy, but thankfully it's not an Ikea manual to put up a coffee-table... or precisely why we call it copernican... and east is where? how could copernicus ever help as navigate a ship... for all intensive purposes... sometimes the earth just has to be "flat", so it can be managed... ever navigate a car from Romford, Essex (a.), to Ostrowiec Św. (b.), Poland, using a map? an orb for the mere pleasure of imagining it to be so, doesn't exactly get me from a. to b., or what they might tell you in an English Catholic school: imagine the earth... and then imagine yourself moving away from it... ******, i still need to get from point a. to point b., Neil Armstrong isn't going to help me while having a kodak moment on the moon! the earth's flat, for all the right reasons, next time you hear about japanese tourists, driving their car into the sea when listening to some Tom / sat-nav off the coast of australia; then i'll tell you i'm imagining a pear, or a woman's ***.

the genesis comes with *homer's blindness...
then onto peering into darkness,
and extracting the light
within darkness...
  perchance we might mention
the islamic intoxication
of rumi - peering into it
all, liberal, sufi...
        last time i checked i was
so drunk that i could only create
a focus on the television
with only one eye open...
oddly enough i watch more darkness
and listen to more music than
i care to abandon and take to
having a wife...
    somehow music overpowers all
my natural urges to have a wife
to father her children,
to scoop into society for a few breadcrumbs...
how we are fated to so diverge...
thus in the night, in tormet
from a migrane, how many poses the lying
body made, how many groans,
as if in labour...
i can account for the medicine that came
intuitively:
    lying on the bed, with my head off it
upside-down, then arranging
the cushions for i lost the third cushion
as to lie as flat as possible....
so the neck was fully extended...
  and easing the pressure...
   why didn't i just go downstairs and drop
a paracetamol or a naproxen pill?
    i wanted agitation, i wanted to
be, for at least one night, akin to a chinese
sage...
and to be honest, if it wasn't for the turks
(the great translators of islam)
   i wouldn't think twice about it...
   or have read rumi,
  or fiddled in bed at night with a migraine
like i might be creating crucifix theatre /
the vanity project of golgotha...
   and you never really get to write
any poetry at all, when you've spent too much
time watching the sun, right in the eye
until it shows you itself, as the ultra-violet
           pulverising, vibrating entity
that it is...
        which is why i returned to closing
my eyes, and listening to music,
with such zeal as to not bother about women...
  and peering into the void to then see
these mini-shadows emerge from my travel
into Hades... words... as any ancient greek might
have said: a god's fondness and appeal
to a cerberus...
       or: what was once a sphinx...
or as some said: the original sin was plagiarism...
and i say that, because there's the need
for irony to be stated, and subsequent ridicule...
we plagiarised, and we still do...
    i mean, a man's head on a body of a lion...
became the unravelling, the anti-thesis
   of, say, Ra, or Anubis... an animal's head
on a human body... the sphinx... unravelled
the genesis of egyptian history
and led to its decay...
      as was Hades' pet, the three-headed dog
the basis for constructing christianity...
            we are prone to the original "sin"
because our "original" sin was to plagiarise...
             hence the irony... since plagiarising
is, well... unoriginal;
but for a poetry that's contained in the bible,
you have to speak in misnomers...
          as the concept of original sin is...
a misnomer...
            a misplaced name for something too
blatant that it requires some sort of mythical
narrative, just like cooking chicken
      in water / poaching it, to get a soup...
we have our boring dialogues,
   so instead of calling it a chicken poached in water
we add cinnamon, cardamom, cloves,
         bay leaves, chilli, turmeric,
            garam masala... etc., and hey presto!
it's a curry...
      like any self-respecting white boy can say:
they think curry spices are bad?
ever sniffed sourcrout?
   the turks pickle chillies... the slavs pickle cabbage,
i am not entirely sure how the two didn't meet
in a kebab concept... why not?
   pickled cabbage could really compliment
the lamb... we pickle vegetables  that we like
to feed pregnant women to,
or so they ask for: pickles doesn't just mean cucumbers...
chillies and cabbage...
now i'll show you africaan: kebāb...
ya, tosh-posh invitation of what's said to an essex
standard of: kebáb; funny, isn't it?
these distinctions, actually do exist -
    evidently english required a painter to come
and learn it, and then paint onto it.

Continue reading...

Jackie Mead Jan 2018

Becoming a Sailor

Back in the day a boy would run away
Feeling very bold, he would head towards a dock, stow away in the hold.

After 5 days at sea and feeling very hungry he would show himself to the crew.

First he would get a beating then he would get some tea, finally he would be put to work out upon the sea.

The boy would become a man, sailing the seven Seas.
Eventually being given a boat that he has full command.

He and his crew would become very tight and have each others back should they get in a fight.

They set course on a map, no technology or Sat nav to send them on their way.

They used the Stars and Planets as their guide, using the Milky Way or Pluto and Saturn to chart the destination of their ride.

2 days now until they reach shore who knows what awaits them when their feet hit the ground.

Hard to tell what lies await what new vegetable or fruit will be their fate.

Will it be potatoes or tobacco this time, who will be around to tell them of it's name, is the island inhabited does it have a name?

Are the locals friendly will they offer food or will they be unfriendly and threaten to raid the boat.

Strip the Sailors of their food, their wordly possessions and their coat.

Tis for sure being a Sailor back in the day, was not fun it has to be said but definitely turned you from boy to man.

When you returned to your home land after many years at sea, it most likely seemed very foreign and even unfriendly.

The journey from boy to man to sailor now complete what is there left to do but sit back, get your pipe out, rest up your feet.

Inspired by Lior Gavra's new book Bittersweet well done Lior I love it.

Continue reading...

Steve Page Aug 2017

The radio reports no congestion
and the goings good with few delays.
Sat Nav tells me it will take no time
with light traffic the whole way.

It's apparently never crowded here
on this less travelled extra mile
I'm a first time pilgrim and I've not passed others
for a good lonely long while.

Matthew 5:38-44

#extramile #pilgrim

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Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017

the twins merx & luna

abandon those ambitions of the modern poetic,
poetry has not theological ambition,
even if it must, it can only skim these waters,
write me a history, a mythology,
write me of today: as it might appear and
be recounted of, a thousand years later,
and be said, to be untrue in a thousand years.

and while i was reading a book review
of the letters of sylvia plath, i stumbled upon
something unexpected,
like a fox in the suburban outskirts of london,
where you can end up running with a herd
of deer without the male to ease the traffic,
or almost get kicked in the head by a horse
who starts nibbling on your hand inserted
into its gob, thinking it's an apple...
i have what can only be summarised as
that which *clarice lispector cited in dedication
to james joyce, forget what book,
all i remember the opening was her as a child
fused to hearing her father's typewriter,
like a woodpecker tucking into a tree
(and no onomatopoeia is necessary);
it would seem, thus, studying a woman's mind,
that i once had a lover, and now have a daughter,
and that's the hadean part of platonism,
that's ultra-platonism,
that's the most ****** you'll ever manage
as a man...
and you can't even imagine it,
unless you listen to music,
and stumble into shivers, or your heart
is a cage containing a kangaroo kicking
its way out from the confines,
with that awfully sounding thumping of
kickboxing...
poor choice of words, that, i will admit,
but platonism can reveal itself in another way,
not that a man may befriend a woman,
but that a man may be turned into a father-figure
and contemplate the fancies of a figurative
case of incenst, and yes: the marquis de sade's
book (as titled the act be) is his best work...
but while i was sitting in quicksilver
(moonlight) it all seemed to come together,
then apart, then back together...
you know how the astronomers debunked
pluto as a planet?
well... i had to debunk mercury as a planet
too...
to me mercury is a "moon" of the sun...
it has all the details of qualifying as a moon,
its rocky, it's not a gaseous giant,
why even bother calling it a planet?
and all it took was sitting at night looking
at the quicksilver layering on almost all things...
i could still see the moon from my window,
so i conjured upon a scenario,
and what if there was not a case to
argue that the moon could be akin to
mercury, if the earth represented louis xiv
in that geocentrism of a heliocentric man?
surely we have forgotten that even by replacing
the dogma of heliocentrism,
the geocentric model has not eradicated
the heliocentric man, that all revolves around
him, and him alone, whether the earth
be flat, round, triangular,
the heliocentric man always overcomes
the **** sapiens...
the rest of us are geocentric men,
farmers, brewers of beer,
but no matter what the scientists feed us,
there will always be the heliocentric man,
king louis xiv is the best example...
it might be a heliocentric model,
but you still need a geocentric model to read
a map, rather than listen to your g.p.s.
sat-nav... and never mind 3D,
the 3D comes when you're stupid enough
to drive into an ocean, and who said that
2D was outdated? i once read a map,
at wales, glasbury, we were divided into teams,
we were the second team, driven further
afield,
point being: the first team didn't ask
the question that i asked for my team:
where are we?
the quo vadis was in plain sight
when the finger dropped a point on the map,
i already spotted a shortcut, through some woods,
and a field of cows...
we beat team (a) by about half an hour...
again, besides the point,
i had to treat mercury like the astronomers
treated pluto...
i degraded it from a planet status...
and while sitting basked in
quicksilver of our dreamy satellite thought
about twinning the two...
the twins merx (mercury) & luna (moon)...
obviously a boy & a girl...
pluto? that was their pet dog,
neither transgender, nor bi-centric-cis-whatever,
it's trans, sure: but it's, a ******* dog!
in still can't get over the fact that i started
calling moonlight: quicksilver...
i hardly think i'll manage to keep it
repeated over & over until it sediments itself
into a pop lexicon...
but how dull can it become
if you call moonlight quicksilver,
and have not alternative for sunshine?
what would you call sunshine in the alternative
care for things?
there's no romance in changing sunshine
to any other descriptive parallel,
only nights care for eerie romance &
mystique... days are filled with work,
daydreaming, and suntans, and being late for
work, for commuting, for sweat,
crowded trains...
i account for claustrophobia as
a symptom of the day, rather than the night...
and no, i'm not a method poet,
**** me, did you watch that scotland
vs. slovakia match today?
one of the best matches i've ever seen,
two near misses on the cross-bar...
and then the irony of the own goal...
you think that they might just beat slovenia
away?
while in armenia it was 6 - 1 to poland,
and the support was so great that i almost
felt i was watching a home match...
come on: romance it great, mysteria all
the better,
but when push comes to shove,
you're still gonna take a ****, and think about dinner.

Continue reading...

HTR Stevens Aug 2018

Sign of the Times?

They used to say “yes” or “no”
And you would know where to go.
Now life is complicated, they say they don’t know
Fearful of mistakes, everyone is vague and slow.
They just look up at the sky…(where the info “cloud” is?)
Not looking you in the eye.
Of most things everyone seems so unsure.
The answer to most questions is “e…er…e-er…”
If you can, you will look it up online:
However, there is no Sat-Nav or sign;
“Answers” pop up from every direction…
Follow your nose at your own discretion!
Interpret it at your own risk…
Everything is just hit and miss!
Hours later, forgetting what you are looking for –
Each person, his own expert (according to the law…),
You feel tired and completely drained,
Like a Dalek has sizzled your brain.
Your initial enthusiasm is gone and energy, too.
All you can whisper, weakly, are two meaningless words, “Boo…hoo…!”

#life #modern #online #internet #people #society #human #knowledge #understanding #happiness

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cheryl love May 2017

The Route

Nothing is so frustrating as a route
The Sat Nav playing it magic flute
Mile after mile
After a long a long while
The machine is mysteriously on mute!

Continue reading...

Steve Page Dec 2018

Joseph is convinced

I tell ya.
Angels
are not as much of a flight risk
as you first may think.
The cherubim however
are flighty
and way more likely to fly off
at the baby's first cry
Like they've got somewhere else to be.
Just try. You'll see.
Not even a bye-bye.

But angels, oh man.
Angels -
I'm a fan.

You can set your Sat Nav
on an Angel.
Dreamtime or lunchtime,
they'll be your guide.
- Sublime.

Me and Mary
were fans.

- Jesus!
Put those nails down.
If your mum catches you with those, she'll go spare.

Joseph got used to Angel visitations.

#nativity #angels #joseph #guidance #mary

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Steve Page Apr 2018

Out here

Out here there is no screen time
There's nothing to distract
There's no Wi-Fi, no 4G signals
Just me and my old back pack

Out here my mind can wander
My feet can wander too
There's no sat nav here to guide me
There's just me and there's just you

Out here I can breath more deeply
Out here I can see clear through
Out here I can speak so freely
Out here I can hear only you

Oh to leave the chatter behind.

#space #hills #freedom #quiet

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— The End —