I remember stories, told through grey smoke
recited slowly, under shadowed eyes
as the old, dry toad croaked,
in a rickety melody by my side.
Forgotten romancers would carve
hearts into the husk of pine.
One was told,
time after time:
Two lovers, a yellow scarf,
we are both the same, headless and blind.

Lose all sense when we meet up
I pray you'll rescue me
chase away my sorrow and bad luck.
Rain always seems to pour most
once I'm building my shelter
my poor face as pale as a ghost
and my urgency, burns like a summer swelter.
I need you like the river needs it's bending
to love you is natural,
a broken bone must go on mending.

So take your weathered hands
lead me to the forest
I cannot see, but I feel its stirring.
The finch and the blackbird, chattering chorus
brain dead trusting, so alluring.

Like a ferris wheel of self doubt
On the dance floor she moves about
Controlling limbs is not that easy
Stumbling round and looking ******
The crowd stare on in wild amusement
Of spasmodic spins and erratic movement
A spectacle not seen before
She collapses spreadeagled on the floor
Unnoticed a stranger enters at the back
An aerial extends, the controller tracks
She jumps up straight just like a soldier
Eyes focused and calm composure
He moves her into graceful steps
More appropriate for the female ***
Now she is surrounded by romancers
Wanting to be with, this robot dancer

We are

Supporters
Romancers
Outcasters

And we speak to the minds of

the Many
the Few
Them
You

Well versed, Poetically penned

words that touch any
emotional brew
spinning mind's web
figuratively true

Mindful heroes, masters of pens

war changers
heart wrenchers
Nation founders
generation movers

We are the poems
We are the poetic
We are Poets

(Secret lovers) By meself.. secret devotions, titled emotion sweeps the dusted lands.. Secrets turned to openness,false lovers have strong demands. Fashion glasses and technology to hide the child inner face, the inner place is no longer in their hearts, yet their pocket books. Unswept crannies and nooks to unmask young romancers graves, where if you turn the page your conquest would not be seen..Two lovers one dream can they entrust all to eachother, sister and brother how thyselves you soon forgot.. The kettled *** boils to free those worldly slaves, where none behave. For god calls us all to an enlightening where the invitings for you and me not them..Forget your soo called friends for they make you stools of what was, all because fake words turned reality..For they believe as they please, their hearts are lusted, theyve spoiled their seed.. Open your eyes new age 60s generation, where **** and ******* are now your wicked god..You fashionistas you comfortable slobs...How lost you have become in fornications, where the world is your heaven, your divided nations are bound to fall sometime soon....

In a city full of beauty, in a country full of life and a culture full of art and love - strangers have set foot upon the land - where poetry thrives, artists dream and music is composed.
They are burning the books and bringing the flames of hell upon the people...
They are covering the beauty so no one can see it and be tempted to take it away...
Children are shaking, the windows are breaking and the thunder is being silenced once again.
When will it end?
This hatred that is spreading like a cancer?
When will it end?
These questions which have no answers?
When will it end?
For the artist, the lovers and the romancers?
quand cela se arrêtera?
quand allez adorer revenir à la maison et dépasser la haine ?

This Drink is for You!

Here's to the groovers, the movers and the shakers
Here's to the players, the haters and the takers
Here's to the quiet, the shy, the romancers
Here's to the boisterous, the
energetic, the dancers
Here's to the last, the second,
the first
Here's to the notion you can quench a thirst
Here's to the different, the unique
the one of a kind
Here's to the offensive, the defensive and
the one of same mind
Here's to you all!
Don't colour your world
blue!
This drink raised...
It's for you!

Where is the palliation? Parochial visions of blank t.v's fuzzed by all Excruciation!
Paradigms of paradoxed love all come around secretly, yet I see them in plain sight. Panacea night's broken to hot bedded springs, parsimonious money launderer's pocket's grow, while children die to sing!!!
The paucity of romancers so pensive to me, perennial, bicentennial blows strong onto every sneeze...
A perfidy of things so strange, word's of slang, to ghetto walls of brick!!! Eye's glued, bomb's on the move with shells from mistakened and sick....
Why so many pojoritive scholar's I ask? Ties to their neck's, with shutgun shells ready to blast....
Perjury of judges, to Schemer's and dreamer's of pernicious luggage....
Where can I find such one who won't make me their perquisite? One to replenish me,
One who shall satisfy me whole as I them!!!!!!!
To an ancient beautiful feast!!!

I am not a Poet (and I know it)

No, I am not a poet by any stretch
as best my description would be a lyricist
and not even a particularly good one of those
the words of the language are the same
as others maybe, but the deliverance
leaves me with no thoughts of grandiose
nothing so beautiful as the true wordsmiths
ones I follow,

Sir Edward of Ryles  
a cat named Nat
or the Star Toucher ST

they truly make me envious of the ways
their minds work
the thought they give to their work
the way they make me think
about this world
about this craft

I applaud these true poets
and I smile whenever I look
at something I have written
and I see a touch of the ideas
the concepts
that I have absorbed
from these gifted romancers

Hail to the real poets!!

Gomer LePoet ....

Our energies combined makes us more attractive to passers by,
No reason to deny, our love makes others high.

Hand in hand we bound around with abandon,
Carefree loving as if we're flying, no sign of landing.

Our laughter and voices compose our own song,
Leaving a sweet feeling in the air long after we've gone.

Like pollen our love mist hangs thickly in the air,
Arousing lovers, darlings and romancers everywhere.

Unconscious are our actions, the outside world is blurred,
We carry on unaware of those who we have stirred.

Conscious thoughts of her crying for days on end
And more thoughts of how things could be, if changed
If given to her all the energy, that would take away
What would there be left to save, if she gave it up?
She’d take willingly the love, the one she’d ****
Not sure of how it will last, it was used up before
Insecurities within her silence, she’s been that way for days
But that’s the distance that she hates, what amazes her to do this

It is said it’s never too late to grow up and learn right
But there’s always another who looks at the past to laugh
At our mistakes as we love each other, afraid of it together
The pain separates equally, but you lived without me before
It’s no tragedy for trying, much worse guilt for sacrifice
Now tell me who’s lying and who’s given life yet another chance
To complicate the open talk, clench words in her fist
No pain with voiced raised, it was never there to begin

Holding on to hold more, to kiss clean the lips of the taint
She lives lonely in her world, still more waiting in her rage
And it eats at her insides… to think more of this trait
And it’s the only thing that will keep her amused
She takes what she wants and she gets what she claims
She’s waiting by the water, her only source for the calm
It’s the chance to heal her fear and time lies in wait
Prowling for the reason, the reason the hate won’t recede

Nowhere to go, yet there is a place to be
She wanders no roads and travels more than wind
Spanning across her dismal mindscape, hurt till no end
Disturbed by that one being that gave up so much for her
But could not give enough, so the living perished
Forgotten by the romancers of the stars, having their way
Disposable time for a replaceable feeling, she gave in to the hole
That consumed her little heart, blackened by the true words

© 2005

Men
Treat thine women as queens
Woman
Treat thy men as kings
Sons
Treat thy sister's as treasures
Daughters
Treat thy brothers as better
Lover's
Wed in godly ascension
Haters
Stop hating, tis love I do mention
Romancers
Romance until thy heart stops
Dancers
Sway with thy lover
Unending nights of crop
Singers
Sing until thy voice chokes
Poets
Read mine words, they'll make more sense if thou would practice
This in hope!

Running like a river.
God knows how it flows.
Rolling stones and hearts that break.
Upon the banks.
Left on the shore.

Rock and roll noise.
Girls and boys.
Flowers that fall.
They're off to the ball.

Dressed in mink and ermine.
The princess and prince charming.
Actresses and dancers.
Time of lively new romancers.

On the side of far and wide.
Left her sat beside.
Beaches with skimming stones.
Perfection, stones to be thrown.

Pebbles and sand.
Needing a grand.
Want a wild party.
Come along and play with me.
Remember in your hearts and minds.
That nothing comes for free.

Love affairs.
No one cares.
Roses floating on the tide.
In and out they go.
Wreaths on rivers.
Drifted to see.
Found washed up on the estuary.

Time to yank up socks.
Knock down blocks.
Nothing much to it.
Every day's *****.
Catching the black days.
Painting them white.
(c)Livvi

and so you sweetly said to me upon the fireside,
"take care my dear, for souls like ours have withered up and died."

and even great romancers of the holy scriptures say,
"take care,
take care,
take care,
take care,
take care and live the day."

I never did believe that I'd retire in the sky
but live my next life in the air, a dainty butterfly

but just in case I pass away and turn back into dust
take care,
take care,
take care,
take care,
I know I really must

******* truth,
sour and sweet.
I lick your lies
the bittersweet myth
that falls from your lips.
I let you mislead me,
so you can feel less guilty
for misusing my flesh and bones
so you can feel pleasure.
silly boy.
too naive to realise
i know you feel nothing for me.
To these simple minded lovers
i have never been a person
all i am
is a hole to ****,
and a lemon to squeeze dry.
However
Vapid romancers
often forget
that with the sweetness of citrus
comes the sour cry.

Friday night, half five. Offices, factories,
fish docks, shops’d unload…
Pan-stick applied, lippy, slap, fresh scent…
ancient Brits in finest 'warpaint' woad.
Oxford Bags, double breasted jacket, 10 ****,
Brilliantine and Brylcreem.
The Hull to Withernsea train stood ready
with a full head of steam.

The preened, the pummed - the chancers, romancers…
loves young dreamers, the loved up dancers - .
Laden with laughter, the Friday night
‘With’ Special lurches out of Hull…
15 miles of glistening steel…
an escape route from the drudge, the cludge,
to ‘Crazy Night’ chances of a naughty weekend.
It’s anything but dull…      

Paragon to Scullcoates,
Southcoates & Marfleet
the carriages already full to burstin’
and the wackiness awaits.
Hedon Speedway, Rye Hill
and Burstwick trundling by…
Hedonists through Hedon’s Gate
sleepy Patrington, Hollym… With!

Piling off the platform toward digs
and guest house fun, stuffed weekend bags…
A thruppeny bit to the sack truck boy
and one of your precious ****.
We’re carousing down the street,
half the city must be here
and the feeling… well it’s reet!
Gagging for a beer - but first…

“Ooh, Mr & Mrs Smith is it?”…
the landlady asks with a knowing wink.
Bags in, **** out - into The Alex  for a drink…
before tripping to The Queen’s and 'Crazy Night!'
Tuppence and a jam jar (don’t ask) gets you in
and it’s mayhem - out of sight!
What a din! Lively band, cheap drinks… what a night!

Girls giggle in gaggles,
dancing round their bags…
The lads... a beer, a laugh, a leer
and passing round the ****.
The whole of Hull turns out in our With
on a summer’s Friday night.
1935… the town’s throbbing…
will it, ever again, see the like?