"skint" poems
"Where's the *** gone?"
"I've got a jar of dirt!"
"So you are all going to fight them, and you are all going to fight them all on the account of him wanting to **** him?"
"Jack. Where's Elizabeth."
"She's safe, just like I promised. She's all set to marry Norrington, just like she promised. And you get to die for it just like you promised. So we're all men of our word, really... except for Elizabeth, who is, in fact, a woman."
"The lies I told you were not lies"
"You lied to me by telling me the truth?"
"Yes"
"That's good, can I use that?"
"You know when you are standing in a high place and suddenly have the urge to jump?
…I don't have it"
"And that was without even a single drop of ***
"You have a cruel mind, Jack Sparrow."
"Cruel is a matter of perspective"
"You know, for all that pirates are clever clogs, we are an unimaginative lot when it comes to naming things."
"Aye, the original plan was to use nine pieces of eight to bind Calypso, but when the first court met the Brethren were, to a one, skint broke."
"So change the name!"
"To what? "Nine pieces of whatever we happened to have in our pockets at the time?" Oh yes, that's very piratey!"
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
ROBBED BY TIME
Once upon a time,
A friend in need at all times,
Time was such my best friend
And so we hopped till the end.
To my castle he'd come,
For he was always welcome
Any time he ever wanted to,
Something my queen loved too.
We'd ramble woodland paths together
As he reeled off one story after another,
All day long having a good time
Till when castle bells could chime.
Time was not of this world,
But a great war lord
Of a very far away land,
King unto the realm of fairy land.
He who had a novelty crown
Bestowed upon him by a fairy clown,
A crown not of gold but of palest silver,
A precious gem from the fairyland silva.
With lurve in the air one morning,
My friendship with Time died aborning
When he chose to do something frivolous
Just when the Sun's rays were so glorious.
Time emblazed my heart,
Something that didst hurt
When he smiled unto my wife,
Such a great shock unto my life.
He gravitated towards her after a deep sigh,
Like a whirlwind, my mind whirled high.
He thus gallantly asked her for a dance,
And was granted a golden chance.
Keenly I watched this flint-hearted boy,
Thought him skint but feared not nor coy.
With alacrity and in broad day light
Together they cwtched in delight.
He whom I always enjoyed with the wine,
There enjoying with a queen of mine
Whilst committing mischief;
This friend of mine such a thief.
Time whispered thus into my Queen's ear,
Whispers I could hardly hear:
Alas! He promised her the moon
For they'd eloped by noon,
To places strange I might never have a clue,
To where mortals have never dared walk to,
All the way to the realm of fairy land,
Such, such a very far away land.
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
10th Aug 2016.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC
*canst poor smile
amid world in bad-shod fit
writ's a-fire
pardon season's ire*
bring'st forth jollity and smiles aplenty
ne'er plaintive be of the sad woe of man
lift high-sky the bless'd, one and seventy
mind scant the fo'c's'tle head in deadpan
floweth into desires flowers of merriment
push upon life gladness; poem of joy-bright
exult all forms of joviality and rejoice on
cheery-heart to amuse and glide to skylight
be curs'd with melancholia; fry all the frowns
ring in goodly-humour and make-it-all-bright
drown dips of despair and banish the downs
expel the heartbroken-ideals; deport skint-lite
what befits the real-feel to true equal-match
face with beck-n-call smile belies wake-latch
(fake)
S T - 29 sept
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
the oldest profession
doth bring much needed funds
housewives and mothers walking the streets
to supplement the household income
Mrs Jones is plying her female wares
in a motel suite somewhere
those extra dollars
shall pay the education fees
for her daughter Claire
as day to day living
isn't cheap
mothers and wives working the pavement
at any given time
the money they receive is a bonus
a nice little earner
a few bucks can be most helpful
as the family budget oft sinks in a well
these women don't haggle
with their clients too much
they give them what they want
and in return get what they need
a dime is a dime
it can be so useful
when the fortnightly paycheck
is so skint
the ladies of the night
aren't always in the game for the purposes of romping
they're lying on their backs
to fill the hole
in the domestic
piggy bank
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Upon this rainy day
I stand on a boggy bed
Alone, untouched, unscathed
All to clear my head
For if I return I am hurt
And if I run I am without
This day of wet and murk
Is the best without a doubt
My thoughts are washed away
Onto this muddy plinth
I want to run and play
But I'm cursed, stuck and skint
And now I must return
And recall the deep, dark blue
I cannot help but burn
For I cannot escape from you
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 7:09 AM UTC
Today is flint,
I spent all of yesterday
and now I'm skint,
it's tough but
so am I and
Friday is worth saving for,so
I can spend a little more
time.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
When the King came down to the counting house and found all his money had gone
he ranted on as only Kings can in the Kingly way
for a year and a day,
which was surprising but only in that it reminded me of the pea green boat and the ***** cat
the loss of his dosh had nothing whatsoever to do with that.
The King was now potless
not a penny to spare
he couldn't sell knighthoods or forested woods,
he was as they say,'boracic lint'
skint
a pauper.
His Daughter,
the lady Jamille
cried a lot
for now she'd to deal with the peasantry and pleasantly so,
she had to learn how to grow,
cabbages,turnips and broad beans it seems she did well enough to feed the family with vegetables
she could stuff tomatoes with mince because quince was 'orf' the menu
she made ragout and that was a mess,spilled it all down her best lavender dress and she cried a lot more.
Being poor was not good and being knightless and single was worse,she was sure she'd been cursed by some well versed old witch who was concocting a spell to leave her quite naked,not even a stitch to her name,
I did mention her name was Jamille?
yes
Jamille learnt to steal and to lie and to cheat
a normal occupation
if you have to stand on your own two feet (in shoes which she stole)
She got caught in the end and in the courts of the justice was ordered to mend her ways.
The old King was ashamed but could hardly be blamed for this circumstance which caused him such grief
it was down to the thief who stole all of his money and the same thief pretends now to be posh,
well he would do with all of that dosh
but we know different don't we.
Clothes may make the man as much as any amount of money can but
it does not make you a king and vice versa,
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
I'm sorry I run from problems
I'm sorry I tried to solve yours
I'm sorry I overshare
I’m sorry I make you bored
I'm sorry I stare
I'm sorry I look away
Im sorry im so hypocritical
And don't listen when you're political
I’m sorry each day turns me more cynical
I'm sorry for the things i've said
I'm sorry if I leave you on read
I'm sorry I didn't keep the teabag in long enough
I'm sorry I interrupt
Im sorry my confidence was eaten by the wind
And drowned by clowns who exposed my sins
I'm sorry I retreat within
Im sorry I cant f☆king sing
I'm sorry you excite me but despite this
I'm sorry for this constant apology
Im sorry im not polite enough
Not tight enough
I’m sorry my tastes aren’t soft to touch
I’m sorry im not bright enough
And my focus fades at your clutch
Im sorry im too open, too rough, too loud
And then too shy in certain crowds
I’m sorry that i’ve put on weight
I’m sorry I’m always late
I’m sorry I just love to procrastinate
I'm sorry I want to make plans
And i'm sorry I flake
I'm sorry you swallow my screams when I shake
I'm sorry I crawl to you like your warmth is my glue when I break
I'm sorry I collect pointless things
And give them half meaning
I'm sorry I give into temptation
In every situation
Im sorry I’m so contradictory
I'm sorry I interrupt
Or just don't listen enough
Huh, i'm sorry I repeat myself
I'm sorry if I don’t help
I'm sorry I forget to say goodbye
I'm sorry I don't confide
I'm sorry I'm always tired!
I’m sorry, I tried
I'm sorry I ego feast, and dwell on the deceased
I'm sorry I hate the beach
I'm sorry I need noise to sleep
I’m sorry im sweaty and need space to dance
I'm sorry you never got a second chance
I'm sorry I over stress
When i over over cook scrambled eggs
I'm sorry I don't shave my pu
☆ssy or legs
I'm sorry I can't articulate
And there for fail to conversate
I’m sorry i’m so needy
I’m sorry i’m so skint
I’m sorry if i'm not in the mood
Im sorry I can be so crude
Im sorry im so greedy
And sometimes so rude
Im sorry i’m just sick of take away food
Im sorry i’m erratic
And i’m sorry I cant f☆king hack it
I’m sorry some days I love you and others I don't
I'm sorry if i've made you lose hope
I'm sorry we disagree
I'm sorry I need more than you to feel safe
And less of you to feel free
Now take a step back and repeat this please;
I'll no longer be sorry for being me
Nov 9, 2022
Nov 9, 2022 at 2:33 PM UTC
The Rhino's last stand?
my eye's still baulk .
For 15 litres used, Fina offered collectable cards
and this free coaster.
I can only think of forecourt charges now
and blinding energy shortages,
needling the near skint.
Surely we had failed the insurmountable test.
Eco Care conditional on my father not being disparagingly cross promitionally conscious?
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 6:53 PM UTC
.
Typical English poet,
thats me, sensual,
sophisticated and skint
© Pagan Paul (2017)
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
A bit skint,
so,
I thought a 3D printer could print me some dosh,
now I'm under the cosh and
heading for clink,
you wouldn't think it was right,
I might see if a 3d printer can
print for me
a file in a cake,
but it's got to be fake or
I'd
print for me
a sunny sea and golden sands,
in the hands of man a 3D printer can
be dangerous.
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 7:02 AM UTC
As the chill of winter begins to fade
The trees begin to show signs of new life
Flowers begin to bloom and reach for the glowing sunlight
I sit on my back porch on a warm spring evening
Gentle breeze blows through my hair
My eyes drift closed and the smell of new born honey suckle plants
Paint the breeze with a light sweet fragrance
I am instantly taken back 20 years into my past
Days of carefree fun, playing as a child
Climbing trees, skint knees
Riding Bikes til dark, Exploring in the woods
Me and my brother frantically hunting for the biggest and sweetest
honey suckle on the bush.
Even for a small moment my innocence is returned
Intact and as if it never left me
Oh if I could live in that memory, true and unaltered happiness
Free and easy
Effortlessly moving through life on a wave of honey suckle breath
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 3:09 PM UTC
forty two kisses were placed on a note
which had been sent to Miss Marla Mote
whence she opened the note she was most surprised
as all the kisses were terribly undersized
she crumpled the note up without haste
and threw it into the paper bin waste
so disappointed was she to find kisses so small
being sent to her by that miserly man from Frobisher Hall
he never much liked writing anything in bold print
as the ink would cost him a fortune and keep him forever skint
forty two small kisses from that miserly man at Frobisher Hall
did of Miss Marla Mote's heart greatly appall
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
My credit took it hard and turned into a debit card,I never read the small print and now I am decidedly skint.
Cash will dash, if you don't keep it on a lead,or on a reign and money after all, is just the same as any other thing in life,it will knife you in the back or hack into a circumstance and given half of half a chance will run away and leave, like it left me today.
I could be brave and save but interest rates are very low and I don't know if a rainy day will ever come and sometimes money's just for fun,
I shall spend,send my money,bend it round a bar or two and in lieu of any saving grace I shall turn the Queens face on my notes,burn my bridges,sink my boats and have a riot of a time,
when I've bought a five minute slot in the bankruptcy court you can come and see what money did for me,
but until then,another ten will go on booze,a fortune on a midnight cruise and twenty quid will buy me high,
did I tell you,money's sly and slips away when least expected,I should have, or did you suspect that's why this man is wrecked and broke.
Money spoke and money speaks and money leaks away and no money means you have no say,
spending,saving,blowing it and raving we all need that touch of having not enough or as much as we need,
money feeds on us as we feed on it and slowly but surely a bit at a time,because a bit ain't a dime when a dollar only buys you a small tin of tuna, and the old lady would sooner thread needles than sew,
we'll all go quite insane.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
Days that would last for weeks
the hot heavens glaring down
on our small confused bodies.
being an aries, the year of the rat, the sign of the ram:
it all meant something.
i let those years fall through my
chubby untouched hands.
craving the hour id lose my virginity
have my first sip of teenage love
and burn my tongue.
i miss not worrying all the time.
if my hair fell out it was because
my sisters braided it too tight.
if i cried it was for bambi's mum
or a skint knee.
boys were for racing and climbing with.
i had a *** bottom and a poo bottom.
i didn't know my dad and I didn't have to.
my mum was my everything.
my mum never cried.
she didn't even have a first name.
i crave Velcro on my pink power-puff-girl shows
that lit up when i raced the boys,
when swear words were forbidden,
and baby's came from seeds, implanted via special bellybutton key.
i was tall and thin with dark hair and dark eyes.
these were just things.
spots were marks my sister got and hormones were a foreign country.
i didn't care about my thighs or my hair or my teeth
or the colours i wore or the size of my waist.
i wanted to race on my scooter
racing from dragons and robbers and wizards and dinosaurs
into the realms of boyfriends, ******* spots and ***
i thought it would be magical to be in such a hurricane of adolescence.
but my dragons and light up trainers are a magic we only taste one.
i crave the innocence.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
forty two kisses were placed on a note
which had been sent to Miss Marla Mote
when she opened the note she was most surprised
as all the kisses were terribly undersized
she crumpled the note up without haste
and threw it into the paper bin waste
so disappointed was she to find kisses so small
being sent to her by that miserly man from Frobisher Hall
he never was one for writing anything in BOLD PRINT
as the ink would have cost him a fortune and kept him forever skint
forty two small kisses from the miserly man at Frobisher Hall
did of Miss Marla Mote's heart greatly appall
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 6:46 PM UTC
There's a quiet tick tick
Tick tock
There's a quiet sound of cars in the distance
The air is warm but there's a slight breeze through the window that is refreshingly cooling
I can feel it on my thigh
I've got one eye closed as I squint at my phone and write this poem
Is it a poem? What is a poem?
I feel like a fake
A plastic poet
Making it up as he goes along
Wanting to write a good poem instead of just writing ...
Anything
What's happening now?
I tried to write a poem about my Dad being a conservative, about coming from a farming family, and about doing things rather than talking about them.
I just rolled over on my couch
I don't always think about what I'm doing
I like to think I'm doing something
Sometimes I'm just trying to do the right thing
Sometimes I'm just trying to be seen to do the right thing
Sometimes I just want to indulge myself in the profits of my labour
Money
I'm skint
I'm not skint
I could be skint if things go a certain way in the near future
I'm scared of being skint
But I don't want to go back to doing the things that I was doing
I don't want to be dragged down again
****** in again
Institutionalised
I don't want to trust people and then get ******* over
I want to be free
To make my own decisions
And walk away if I don't like it
I wonder if Adele will call
I like Adele
She reminded me of my good points again
After Paula
Letting go
It scares me a bit to think whether I actually would have killed myself back then
No matter now - it seems so long ago
When I needed someone to make me feel good
It's inly been about six months
It's not long
I've changed a lot
I hope that it's for the best
At least I don't cry every day I'm without my kids now
At least Adele is my friend
Do I wish she was my girlfriend?
Or do I just like being respected and liked?
I like being liked
I think that's why I write
It's probably why I'm setting up my charity
It's definitely why I post what I'm doing on Facebook
I'm tired now
This poem is getting too long for the 3 mins
Is it a poem?
God knows
I need to sleep ***
Tick
Tock
Buzzzzzzzz...zzz..
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
Born between 46 and 64
A unique generation.
A selfish bunch of ********
That now ruin the nation.
Climate change was prophesised
About when they were in charge
But that was all idly ignored
Whilst their pension funds enlarged.
Free higher education
Afforded more equality
Just until they got in power
And conjured student fees
And housing market prices
Rocketing 4300pc in 40 years
Sorry that your kids are skint
You'd better get the beers.
And now your sitting pretty
Whilst we live like humble peasants
Unable to afford to raise our families
Relying on your presents.
Sure some of us have made it
By discarding moral values
But for those with global conscience
We've had nothing but bad news
The reckless capitalist party is over
Your generation were the last DJs
Now your kids must clean up after you
Your grandchildren are the ones that pays
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Lancaster Castle, partly built in the 13th century and enlarged by Elizabeth I, stands on the site of a Roman garrison. Lancaster Castle is well known as the site of the Pendle witch trials in 1612. It was said that the court based in the castle (the Lancaster Assizes) sentenced more people to be hanged than any other in the country outside of London, earning Lancaster the nickname, "the Hanging Town".[18]....(nicked from Wikipedia)
I am skint
bin t' bank
'and not a Franc or Sou for you',
they said,
but
I'm not fussed,
been bust before
just have to work and
earn some more.
Thee can't be hung more than once tha' knows.
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
Forever basking in eternal light?
If heaven exists, may I find it.
Not in any hurry.
A slow meander ,
Down the stream of life as it flows.
To figure out my direction.
Most extreme pleasure may be found.
One day eh!
Can be sensed in the joints of aching bones.
Of standing upright garden gnomes.
Standing guard over pond life.
Water boatmen skit the film.
They're making a movie.
Winter's subject maybe skating on ice.
Don't see them much in winter time.
Summer's theirs and also mine.
The night is creeping in.
Darkness catching up.
It's cold.
I am too.
The weather is changing.
Been all over the news.
Life on Earth is almost hell.
Throwing coins into a wishing well.
They don't come true.
Just leave me broke.
Fried eggs on toast, too skint for yolk.
Hell yes, I'm cold and tired.
Still writing, trying to joke.
Livvi
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
You are ******* if you do but
who the **** are you
to complain.
Put the blame on the shoulders of
your olders and betters
men of letters that fall after their name but
you're ******* all the same because your face
doesn't fit,
it's a load of old ******** they spit at to ***** you,
don't fall into the trap of there's no way because that
is a pile of pedalled out ****
Don't do what they do and **** what they say,do what you want
and do it every day.
This way of the cross is a ******* dead loss so do it and let them all hang,
bang open the doors and **** on the floors,let the management manage,do as much damage as you possibly can,
in the end,
every woman and man will be flushed down the pan with the tampons and Johnies and tell me life's bonny,
I'll tell you it's *****
My eyes closed to light and the ******* of a night tries to **** me,
I'd die happily if it wasn't for you,if I wasn't about to get ******* once again,it's only the pain keeps me going, stowing away vitriol and paying my toll to the man,
Gods plan is as bankrupt as the mistrust we feel,when every deal that is set is a certainty bet and the betters have lettered it all with a press that can print for the poor and the skint
and ain't we sorry ***** having a ball.
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
There's a shiny stranger at the door
His eyes are wide, smile white and wanting more
With no mask to hide or nowt to give
Idle conversation fits before
No you can't have my money as I'm skint
It's been a long day the saying goes
Charity starts at home but not when you work for one
There's a level I give
and am currently past it
Outside of my own remit
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 11:56 AM UTC
I'm too drunk man
Way past the laughs and the larkings
Alone now with the thoughts that the dark brings
I'm way too drunk man
I'm skint so im drinking of brand
Still sipping when the dawn starts its breaking
But that time any old **** tastes amazing
I'm way too drunk man
The sun on my face through the blinds
Red morning light matching my eyes
Wishing the clock would re-wind
Cause where my future self lays
He'll lay all day with his mind
Scattered to the winds and the skies
I'm way to drunk man
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 10:53 AM UTC
Blasphemy
and
what does the Holy See
say about it?
Nothing I could put into print,
them priest ain't skint
when it comes to verbal badinage
what with them being
au fait with bad language today,
when you mock
their reply is
'put a sock in it'
They only swear on the bible
according to a reliable source
in the Vatican,
but then again
sources
are liable to lie.
ps: Vespers ain't scooters either
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 6:57 AM UTC
sunglass and a drink
watching a street-lamp in the dark...
hell...
that's schizophrenic...
the light
just splits...
it just splits!
i'm seeing double(s)...
i must be on acid...
because this light source is
encompassing (hiding) a twin!
the laziest of the most
skint boston fweaks;
or as i like to call them:
the milk-maids
for the dog dubbed zero...
yeah, this is the part where i growl,
and never ask for applause.
it was only me, looking at a street-lamp...
and to think... it only took an
aperitif's worth of brie cheese...
considering... roquefort.... is
the most justifiable joice of joke.
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 9:07 PM UTC