"niggles" poems
If I could take the parts, you know,
the bits that don't really matter
one by one,
moment by moment,
and push them off a cliff to a place that collects such worthless clutter
The mistakes I have made,
the thoughts that shouldn't follow on through but do
those past revelations, such stories of wondrous lies and the times I should just have just poopooed
We live a life that is never in the here and the now
The mundane taking over, every work hour a taste so sour
To look and to basically be your best,
those wrinkles showing old age,
an advert on your brow
We'd like to shove all these inacuracies and self loathing on a one way trip to hell
but its a part of the human being that grounds us all, a one time life in this corruptible shell
So to take away those parts that make us so inaccurate
would be a boring life with no ups or downs as we all like a few quid on an unsafe bet
those niggles, such talk that is utter drivel,
all to be placed in a room with a designated shelf
Not a chance, its a part of our lives,
for who would ever want to have,
A Divorce From One's Self
JJB
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
asoftquietafore;
B OO M!
grunting swirl. the speakers speak intangible friction
who's so slightly an empirical fever
nursing gratuitously the male flavors encumbering
the ego flecked freckles *** lisping
elegantly cambered waists shrines of molten ecstasy
but my lady niggles sporadic splinters in my sheath
and i
splay the courageous night
and penetrate her plaintive giggle
andrideayellowbuckingmetal
to her supreme station
and palm her credibly
with every effect of my huddled fibers
where she is gently wet
a winsome hollow
in where
is
springhotlycaked light boisterously exploding
and a pink breaking every other colour
i slave mightily to it's hairless stubble and i stumble
rightly dumb
at her close cut whisper
slanting ardently a moist bolt of night
aggressively passive
and patient
she cups my puddle
and
with
lips
purely dirt
she scrapes me perfect
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 10:57 AM UTC
A voice in the morning niggles at my head.
Not the voice of schizophrenia.
A real voice indeed.
Before I fall I think of you.
And when I wake I do so too.
It’s all very weird.
To me endeared.
Let’s pretend we’re not friends.
I wonder.
The stars lace the sky in diamond rings.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings.
For me, it’s work.
With its trials and tribulations.
Just puts some pennies in my pocket.
I am a realist for now.
Believe not in love.
She’s a holy cow.
Always let her rip me to pieces, don’t know how!
(c) Livvi 2014
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 4:15 AM UTC
Now in
Nature,
Numb and
Naked,
No one
Notices the
Nobility or
Native
Narcissists on their
Nail-biting
Nacreous
Narcotics, but
Never
Neglect the idea of
Naïve
Nobodies with their
Nightly
Niggles,
Nameless and
Nowhere. The
Nocturnal
Nation.
Night's
Nearing.
Nearly
Nationwide,
Nimble
Nebulas form.
Neurotic.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
Slumbering
Zzzzz
A mis-shaped face gapes open at the mouth
Wakes slowly with one eye shut
And re-arranges its pace to form a unified
Front
Drool dangles
Drips lip to chin
Slurps back in where it belongs
Slides along a tongue and is swallowed
Hole
Nose niggles
Twitches
Bewitches the brain with imagined insects
Landing, lounging
Creeping up cavernous
Nostril nooks
Dream steps
Missed
Falling face-down onto metaphorical foreheads
While lying flat-backed
On the bed
Dozing drowsily
Napping
Not quite awake nor asleep
Quite aware
Neither here
Almost there
All most easy
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 12:46 PM UTC
I feel the feelings
They leave me reeling
The love i thought i had
I thought it not so bad
A few niggles here and there
Nowt to make yo much aware
But others knew, they dare not say
Now they tell, so far away
All for the better, she was right
I wanted a wife, she wanted a life
Children three, they are what mattered
I would not leave, tho life was shattered
Now two years on i feel better
My bed is cold, but my children fettered
warm and fed and better sheltered
I care not just for me you see
I care for things she did not see
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 3:13 PM UTC
Slowly they count
The hands of time
Gliding without rest
Macbeth he screamed
They are here
A slow and relentless march
tic-tok, tic-tok
Here it is and there it goes
Without applause.
Stand still impervious!
The moments wash over you
Yet still of grit and mud
You are ever a rock, steady.
You close your eyes
As a tear niggles your flush cheek
Life is here and there it goes,
You mind is here and there it goes.
You are but here
Never moving
You are but here
Never moving.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 3:48 AM UTC
so heart tightly unopen
in packed a whooping
collared beast niggles
sharply by fingers mostly
hands' unfurled in
a star of dreaming wars
the lightest and body
feeblest is strongest
nearly firmer than
softest barely weaker
and flowers
(a big spit of petals)
burning thigh deep
into waded Edward
after him i'm
leaping freshness
of my complete mystery
ripens against darkness
dashing(withclosedeyes)
on the mouth of the sun
where is set my teeth
the silver and her moon
,
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 21, 2011 at 1:48 PM UTC
Some hold the heaviness of the world in their heart
I only cradle this silly wee thing
It sits in my heart like the tooth on my chest
It niggles away, a tickling sensation
But this silly wee thing is mine
and mine alone!
If it were not to be here then surely
neither would I
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 8:22 AM UTC
Just resting my eyes
as the lights in the tree dance
and some well trodden narrative
of Christmas redemption plays
in gloss on TV
the grey pull of January
is at bay for now
held off by cellophane wrappers
and the smells of a decadent kitchen
though not a Christian
I’ll be thankful anyway,
aware of the drop either side
I’ll let my usual pissy niggles rest
til next year
Dec 22, 2021
Dec 22, 2021 at 12:51 PM UTC
god's spades little digging children 'tween the hips o' girls
digging deeply (al itt le finger) lays a thousand times; seeds
(niggles the dry packed loosing firm)
a root extending from
into
a rose becomes
a thorn
pricking
waists (shoots and leaves
shoots and leaves
shoots and leaves
)gardens calls 'em boys
calls 'em boys when
(digging spades release)
a seeds to spill girls 'tween hips 'o
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 2:05 AM UTC
Milka was in a mood
as we left the farmhouse
and got on our bicycles.
What's up?
I said.
It's her
(meaning her mother)
having a go
at me about
coming downstairs
in my nightie,
and in front
of you as well,
how was I to know
you were there?
Milka said,
looking back
at the farmhouse.
It's how she is,
likes things done so so,
I said.
How do you know
what she's like,
you only see
the side she
wants you to see,
Milka said,
being all nice to you,
just because
you're young
and good looking,
I bet she fancies you.
Don't be daft,
I said,
she's your mum
not a woman
up the road.
Milka stood
gazing at me:
you fancy her
don't you?
You'd have *** with her
if she let you,
Milka said coldly.
That's stupid,
of course I wouldn't,
I replied.
She looked away
and got on her bike
and rode off.
I got on my bike
and rode after her.
She was in
a fouler mood now,
and peddled fast
as she could.
I followed,
peddling as fast
as I could
to catch her up.
She rode along
the country road
for a good half mile,
when she pulled up
by the peacocks
by a farm cottage,
and got off.
I pulled up
and laid my bike
against a hedge,
and followed her,
and stood next to her
looking at the peacocks.
I'm a moody cow,
she said,
of course you wouldn't
have *** with my mum;
who would?
I don't know how
my dad ever did.
I love you,
I said,
no one else.
She turned
and smiled,
and kissed my cheek,
then stared
at the peacocks again.
I mused on her mother
who had made me toast
and a drink that morning
while I waited for Milka.
I liked her plumpness
and her motherliness,
but that was it,
nothing more,
but sometimes
something niggles you,
and so did that,
that's for sure.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 4:13 AM UTC
One more siren
another day
time for me to get away
escape this fray, but
the silent G niggles me,
why is it there in what the nightwear wore or
the lightning strike?
and I notice in the lightning I can hear the
G, but only at the end when the lightning's struck
at me.
Impossible to say, another siren in the day
and one more reason why
I have to get away.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 6:33 AM UTC
Reality dims, dreams fade away,
A hungry nightmare howls,
As the heart turns gray.
On a mournful sea of so many souls,
Yer tune rises up,
To sneak into my shadows.
And it dances, it jumps,
it twirls and it wiggles.
It makes a new path
Out of most of my niggles.
Looks like I can’t find
any more rhymes,
I just thank you, my friend,
For all of yer time.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 6:09 AM UTC