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Joe Bradley Jul 2014
a flicker of warm light
and your face is all that I see.
Thunderclouds are silenced,
burned away and
my chest is left open to
our place under the opal sky.
The light is our soft romance
and our candlelit meal for two...

'Spiritui Sancto'
A Benedictine Monk
alone in
cold stone chambers sees
an ascending soul,
holy company,
a solitary light in all the
'Sed libera nos a malo'

love - bites
but please don't stop...
In his lust,
Mould moments of my skin
and keep them

'Waxy fingertips!'
'Put that down,
Mum told us
If you play with fire
you're going to get burned.

30 miles
they say
is the mathematical distance
you can see a flame in the dark

This is the symbol of our nation.
'Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit'
This nine branched lamp symbolizes that our Israel.
has courage, those may be their Qassam rockets,
but those are our sirens.
and that humming you hear is our drones
over their heads.

What enchanting light...
what God are you? Oh
wondrous beauty
what magic do you hold, what glory...
come closer str.....

What died so I could read?
The tallow is a pig
the squealing embers
fat pig.

here comes the candle to light you to bed,
And I curled, vulnerable to the shapes in the window
with my feet creeping further under the duvet.
The shadows were melted, cut, distorted on
my bedroom walls.
A primal evil will danced by the light of the flame
until I shut my eyes so tight,
that I slept it away.
here comes the chopper to chop off your head.

'No Jennifer, I just feel candlelight just adds a certain


to a room


'Quickly, before it turns septic.'
'This wont hurt boy'
'The fire, pass the fire'
'Quarterise it quick or he won't last long'
'bite down hard my lad, bite down hard'

Children hurtle down,
a Bombay slum to hear that.
'King Rama has returned,
light his path!'

The open sewers adorned in Ghee lamps
find such intense beauty as each quivering flame,
although so fragile, breathes the story
of the power of human spirit
unshakable against overwhelming odds.
*'The King of Ayodhya
Has Returned
Show his path for the Festival of Light!'
ottaross Aug 2015
When a rain-storm surprised the city
Passers-by looked down with pity
At a large group of nutters
Inspecting the gutters
An unfortunate planning committee.

They decided today was good timing
Below-streets they soon were climbing
Where the gutters connect
To the sewers they checked
And all got a very good sliming.
Who can resist a little limerick action?
James Marcro Dec 2017
Depression reigns
Sewers clog
In rolls that relentless fog
It’s hard to see, to feel, to think.
Smoke some more.. get a drink.

Depression reigns
I’m soaking wet,
My clothes feel tight,
Hair unkept
“Are you okay?”
“Have you slept?”

Are you okay—have you slept?
Questions ring,
I’ve slept alright, I could this instant
It doesn’t help
I stray,

More distant.

Depression reigns
My anger floods
Then quickly drains
Pulled the plug.

I swim towards normal, the quickest route
I’m swimming in, as the tides pull out.

Depression reigns
The waters rise,
No footing below
Close my eyes.

Depression reigns
Guden Jul 29
I was born in Summer
Almost at the end of it,
I have forgotten the warmth
Of the Sun.
Autumn has been my life,
Most of it
With fallen leaves
Clogging the sewers,
The streets of my story.
I’m in Winter now,
Ice and snow
Cover the doorway,
I  would say this may be the reason
Nobody visits,
Yet it is impossible for me to go out either,
It seems.
I wish I could see Spring,
I have heard marvelous things of it.
I imagine what it is like
To enjoy a cold breeze
While the Sun is warm.
af Oct 2018
Ladders and highs
And purples and crazies
Burning under the stars
Looking through the uneven stairs
Passing through open walls and
Broken windows
Hallowed and cut bleeding through
The darkened streets
Glowing into their skin
Death as a form of retreat
From their civilian madness
Holing into sewers and breathing waste
Hurting themselves on barbwire fences and needles
Digging holes into flesh and filling with temporary satiety
For those sleeping in alleys high and immobile
Choirs of  phantoms and squirrels and birds
Greet with unremarkable pitch
Verse says the end has come
But is just unfolding
'Way from Kraken gurgle, Harpic Sarlacc, full-
throated Flush Monster, back to bed I'd hurry
during the weeing hours o' childhood mornindigo.
When Percy points at the porcelain, the porcy
lain points back at Percy.

Used & abused water
more than the icon, Sea, but at that age,
I don't suppose I was thinking
of fatbergs & rat kings,

****** miles of shiteating grim
fundus, universal bucket leaking in each
bubble's corner.
No carminatives, no angst, no Armitage H.
Shanks: incorporeal the wretch

Insta-famous. 'Dontcha believe it!'
answers the ****, the ****
of Om. Ad profundum,
do sewers need hellcraft?
Don't forget to...Baptismal epitaph

of **** is abysmal, craptismal
welcome to our round world
via u-bends sinister. Whole scatolocus
be curved crud, our home clod
w/ its bogs of cod.

But thru the eye of a needle our narrow
focus takes us
down the Euroshopper **** canal flannel channel
to where kermit quack deterges
(from a high grate) Kermit the Crocodile's scales,

wargreen as a black Atlantic gator.
I am the eggbound, goo goo
g'jobbie! But it's time to putaway such childish things:
in reality, the Ninja Turtles' HQ
is covered in poo.

& verrucas ebola ebolasalt logorrhea logonorrhea
semolinapilchard eczemacetera. Stereotypical-
ly British/puerile/Licean to
stir urea o' tepid pools,
torpid stools, fool-

hardy too, lest guileless sewage
triumfartly splurts
from madid, olid mouse 'oles.
Horizontal geysewers l/ foudroyant
hydrants of tempted fate,

rumble thy smellyful! Revacuate, adobe draftexcluders
miasmatic! Revoid, renal vino! & muckup halcyon
skirtingboards! A soapy bath concludes the

coprocobraing in Pythagorrhea of ricoshite.
Feeshus lept, Jesus wept! Misfortune we miss
is the best luck, so thank Chod such an agitplop
contraflow of floaters against th'Effluent is
not forthplumbing. Eccrisis

is natural, nitrous, noxious
& necessary, our meconium island babies.
But nothing pooing is sweetsmelling nothing doing,
blows unblocked felicity in my
direction (an angel's cloaca of invisibility).
Yenson Aug 2018
Welcome to the Alpha cowards who are faceless and their cowardly gangs,
The raggle taggles scums who live in sewers and gutters and crawl out to spew their putrid innards or cast mud as they are wont to do. The stinking Bullies of the West, the fascists and Racists of Modern Politics, Liars and shysters, deluded sickos.  

Hail the Red Loony - Hail the Uber chavs of Chavs-ville, the deluded warriors of Wigan, the ******* pigs of Animal Farm,  the Baldrick's of Blighty, the Prophets and Saviors of the poor Oppressed malcontents, the Asinine Numpty Controller of Heraldry, the bungling vacuous Stalinist thugs, the famed carriers of the famed and ridiculous owners micro-penises and laughable quick shot minute men lovers, with  their Fem-fresh free zone females.

Hail the Bogus Thieving Red Devils and the Psychos Uber Slanderers and Shitegangs of the Western Socialist muppets, to name a few of their inglorious tags. Hail the Shameless Red flag wavers. who sexually harass females members and are only there for what they can get while fooling all they are comrades and for the people.

Now that the Jews have exposed you and shown all that you're the imbecilic Haters of successful and hardworking people, the maggots that you are, you can concentrate more on playing with the mind of that Black Prince, that is putting you and your poor brainwashed and ******* gabble of followers, to shame.

How the mindless can play mind games is of course, an anomaly best understood by the Mindless themselves, but then since when do psychotic, deluded, hallucinating, proven in-adequate and sick fantasists, those education- avoiding, opportunities-shy ( why should we make use of all the opportunities offered to us, why should we try and earn an honest living and make something of ourselves, No! we are the socialist 'working class',

We have the Welfare system created specially for us, we don't pick strawberries or work on the farm like some poor Poles, we don't serve in Hotels and say 'sir' to some ****** Johnny Foreigner, lets leave that to the Jews, Asians, Eastern Europeans and Africans ), we are free hedonistic, drunken louts and yobs and we don't care.

We hate those that believe in hard work and striving to be successful, we do not like clean, honest law-abiding people, we will bring them down to our level, we are all equal, that's democracy. We will campaign against good people and try and drive them mad, we will slander them and give them grief, We Never let the facts and truths get in the way of an asinine campaign against decent people with aspirations and sensibilities. We are mindless and irrationality, envy, jealousy, pettiness and irrational hatred is our game, I dare profess to all you Blue Conservatives.  

So go luxuriate in your mediocrity of mind, body and soul, go do your hating, that's what Haters do, get on with your lies, smears and slander, what else do you have, after all your whole lives are one big facade and you are masters of superficiality, even your mothers wouldn't tell you all the truth to your faces. You are shameless cowards, internationally recognized bullies and pointless anachronisms  in this days and age.    

Why not save your fears, energy, expenses and time before slithering around performing your anodyne 'street theater' and posting various fake profiles, or presenting the fowl putrid nonsensical deluded fantasies,  thinking compound 24 carats fools like you and your ***-wipes, can shape opinions or influence sane minds.  However I do appreciate this fact will be too much to comprehend by deluded psychos and brain washed simpletons, so please continue amusing yourselves and displaying your abject and pitiful ignorance, your vacuous minds needs useless stimulation.

Hail the  Hail the Reds Devils hahaha.....hahaha.....hahahaha...oh...oh....hahaha...Hail the Classic ***** of The Red Devils...hahaha hahaha hahaha. Hail the simplistic sense of power of anodyne oppositions.
Ryan O'Leary Jul 25
Britain is Borixed, there has been
a tsunami at 1 eau Drowning Street.

Bodies are being ejected from the
life raft, without their May, Vests.

Priti Patel is at the helm, brought the
Mogg along as coxswain.

Sewers are bursting, French Floaters
arriving via the channel tunnel.

Merde, **** EU **** crottes ca ca's,
Borix is going to happen, by Halloween.

Long Live The Been, **** the Scots NI's
& Welsh, England will still have a Queen.
It's simple!

All you do is
Take one boring
Italian man

In bright green
Overalls and a stupid grin
And you flip

That mustache upside down
Paint him purple
For pizazz

And Wala!
You've gone from plumbing sewers
To plunging skewers in no time!

What does that even mean?
You ask with smart

Oh... you know exactly what
That means ;)
This brother's shoe size

Off the **** chartz
I play tennis like you
Play Mario Kart

Reckless abandon and I'm
Barreling off of your rainbow road
My mustache like a peacock feather...

So don't be puting no
Shells around you cause you
Know you be wanting

Jamie King Jan 20
Deep wounds on my back, I'm gallery of scars. Take a gander feast your eyes, a tarnished heart is my signature.

Vistiges of my soul dangling on toothpicks, dinner well relished by friends foes glimmer with empathy. Malice pleased, who is my enemy?

The excrement of animals drowning in the sewers, is that the existence the best of self I can only persue huh?

Warriors screams with torn diaphragms asking for help will I sleep quietly without a helping hand,
Will I sleep quietly without a helping hand?
The Czech travel guide slumped in his chair, hair disheveled, eyes distracted, sipping a beer, then coffee at the Ostia Antica bar and bistro just past the tiny railway stop. He was tired, he said, of leading groups through the maze of Europe’s famous sights, explaining history, significance, value. His 42-member entourage would soon return from dissecting the massive ruins of the excavated Roman city — avenues, therma, fast-food kitchens, masks. We needed no guide to make our way along the brick-lined streets, stopping to stare at frescoes, mosaics, the sprawling theater. Ostia dwarfed Pompeii in size, if not drama. No contorted bodies, no brothels or sewers. Only a meticulously gridded urban sprawl. Headless sculptures heralded the humanity of history. Crumbling sarcophagi held water like broken baths. Few others like us tread the slick-stone path: The grimy chaos of Roma replaced by Ostia’s bucolic Pax. Its stone-masked ghosts, spent from wandering, embraced the resurrected statues in the stately museum. Peace in Apollonian beauty. New life springs from eroding stone. We needed no guide to show us where the tired spirit rests. Here, in the shadows of Ostia Antica, brick by brick, history was explained.
Prose poem.
Ostia Antica is a suburb of Rome, with Europe's largest excavated Roman city.
"Pax" means "peace.."Therma" are baths.
emimg Sep 2018
mantra and insolence hand in hand
intercepting the idea of the baby boy crush applying to me like kinetic sand
barbie dolls at the marriott
saccharine jewels in the sewers rot
the old girlie i had a tap on
lipstick peeling away like a deteriorated vinyl record's song
let the angels waver, barter, become sicker
and quote 'say anything' as if it's a 90s sticker
have *****-stained carpet posted
uploaded to the black market webs
caption it "****** me"
and let the media do the rest
tired of these wicked games
isaac position me with rachel some day
at the mosque, eve and ann is scratched out into the old testament books
pack the bags
let's go
the hilton's booked
etch and sketch situated on the train tracks
along with two birds together
feet lazily dangling
bargaining with god to finish them over
****** denial, toothbrush stuffed in the dog's mouth
ran down the line, kissing him to the south
lost the baby girl along the way
let the dirt do the talking
gargled some milk and jack daniels honey
in large arms, lucid dreaming never seemed so calming
boy crush :/
They said there would be a day,
When rivers become oceans,
Boats become airplanes,
And mountains become islands.

Well that day has come,
Got to climb to a higher ground now or drown.
The rain is drumming down,
Covering over every ground.

They said there would be a day,
When God would toss a stone.
Hurtling It across space,
To crush every bone.

Well that day has come,
No where to hide and no where to run.
The end is here and it is coming for everyone.

The sewers are overturning drowning the vermin in their own ****!
It’s the end of the mother ******* world, and I’m welcoming it!

They said this day would never come,
That the world would always be the same.
Well the day has come.
The world needed a change,
So God tossed a stone at it!

It came like a thief in the night.
People looked from the ground and looked to the sky,
And saw rain, hail and asteroids coming down!
It took all of that for them to raise an eye.

This is the end,
And also the beginning.
Welcome the change,
Or be washed away!

Woe to the *** offenders;
Woe to the paedophiles;
Woe to the *****;
Woe to the ******;
Woe to the politicians;
Woe to the cultists;
Woe to the tyrants;
Woe to the killers;
And woe to all those who call evil good.
Mother earth has had enough of your ****.
She is putting and end to all of it.

They said there would be a day,
When all of this evil was washed away.
And now that it is here,
I have never been so happy to say:
I’m watching the ground give way into a chasm,
I’m watching the vermin being swallowed by the ocean.
I’m watching bus sized hail leveling the cities.
I’m watching an astroid hitting earth off it’s axis.
I’m warching earth being hurtled across space.
I’m witnessing the change.
I’m welcoming it with open arms.

Don’t just call me an anarchist,
Look into what I am saying.
You really can’t accept change,
Well, it doesn’t accept you either.
So many strange fruits,
       In the streets.
Black bodies living in the sewers
Africans hanging from the apple trees,
Used needles on concrete,
Blood has a new home build with tears,
It's sad to say,
It's sad to say,
Children are born here.
They wonder why life became so rotten.

“I too love everything that flows: rivers, sewers, lava, *****, blood, bile, words, sentences. I love the amniotic fluid when it spills out of the bag. I love the kidney with its painful gall-stones, its gravel and what-not; I love the ***** that pours out scalding and the clap that runs endlessly; I love the words of hysterics and the sentences that flow on like dysentery and mirror all the sick images of the soul...”
― from Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller
floW Jun 19
Love is a trick,
a facade, a mirage,
Love is a poisoned apple,
sweeter and sweeter with every bite,
and before you know it,

you're dead.

Love is a rope,
strings and strings tied together,
growing tighter
constricting like a snake, until you can't breathe.

Love is a door,
being pounded on,
screaming "Open Up",
over and over.

Until you just can't scream anymore.

Love trickles,
droplets of rain,
washing down through the sewers,
simply a drink for the rats.

Love is the tick of a clock,
tick, tick, tick,
stopping time, making a minute feel like eternity,
making a day feel like a second.

Love is a trick,
but Love is everything.

— The End —