Wi yer eyes stingin n wet wi tears
N muk bungin up tha nose n ears
N a white rimmed ed where thi's ad thi hat
Up tha floats on't lift like a drownded rat

After twelve hours tha's pretty dun in
Whilst t'other folks as been kippin n dreamin
Tha's bin diggin n drillin like summart daft
Now up tha floats on't hydraulic raft

The cold morn air meks tha lungs urt
Cause tha's bin breathin muk n dirt
Fer nigh on forty years or more
That most folks wudn't ave on't floor

N as tha washes all't muk away
Tha knows thas sum that'll allus stay
N whilst outside tha luks nice n clean
Tha's stuff inside thi th't'll never be seen

Until o course tha's gon n died
N them docter fellers tek a look inside
N in amazement they'll stand n stare
At all that muk th't shudn't be there

N wen tha's ded it'll be nowt new
Not too a bloke what's lived like you
Fer now tha's on'y six feet under
Wen undreds is what thas bin used to

N't Crowner'll say thi ad a natural death
Not like them th't had their last breath
At sixteen, seventeen, twenty or more
When sum big explosions brought ceiling t floor

But a doubt if tha'll think it wer thi turn
As tha lays there nattering t worm
Crawlin in n out o yer ears
Not much t show fer sixtyodd years

Still what else cud you ave dun, that's it
But follow yer old man down pit
A mean even his dad was a facer tha knows
Kem out at thirty wi' ands like claws

Ah well it's time fer sum grub
Then half-a-dozen pints't pub
Wi an hour or two o noonday sun
Then back t wife fer an hour o fun
N be six next morning I'll be feelin well
As I teks yon raft t bowels of 'ell
Thirty shillin a week be summer the reckonin
Ah but then they can't see yon worm beckonin


Remember this is a 'Performance Poem'
and the style of writing acts as a
speech prompt. The accent is loosely
Yorkshire. A 'Crowner 'is an old word
for a Coroner.
I hope you enjoy it.

© David Irwin Phillips 2008

let us be honest
let us be upfront
and real

as we must-
in order to properly
heal this wound we
have made in society.

PEOPlE ARE
AFRAID OF ME.
because I am "crazy"

because I have OCD
because I have BPD

they definitely don't
even know what
those acronyms MEAN

see I've been deemed
as crazy
and marked as one
full of insanity

and this STIGMAS
stingin' me.

this is how they
be treatin' me
and they be sayin'
and playin' this game

towards me-

lock her away
and pray she don't come
near me:

mental illness is
infectious and she'll
surely get me,

she's contagious
it's outrageous
don't touch me-

she's CRAZY.

she's manic
and throwin fits
it's ****** *******

keep her AWAY
from me,
please I don't need
to be exposed

like even if she
don't look it
or like she's got it
she doesn't seem
THAT insane

but it could bloom
in MY brain
if we ride the same subway
or ride the same train-

*******, she's got
an illness-
a mental illness
that's the diagnosis

she's ******' CRAZY

it's a disgrace she even
shows her face
don't see how
she can even leave
that place

**** just cage that
mental case AWAY

I TOLD YOU
she's crazy.
keep that mental
**** AWAY from me.

uh im rude like awakening knock those out who fakin'
flakin' like  they frosted i leave ya exhaushted
hard to see me when them black ants
crawlin' over eye visions cuz my visions
dehydrate your precisions
stingin' ya harder the bees like wind to breeze
ya cant slow me yall haters below me
bring force like kinobi just show me
yo head so i can fill it with led down goes yo bread
tears in the hearts of families fatalities bring joy to me
emcees beware ya in for a scare no truth or dare
pause ya like a stare first glare ya see
im in ya shadows check my plateau ruthless as Don Vito  
evils we see no remorse for those who try to show
out they *** we never chased the cash
we burned out like brass true with me class
yall dont want clash dancin' with the titan fast as lightening
strike so compellin' enticin' frightening
no late night news can fused or abuse
our images we mass murderers lowerin' percentages
of those in advantage we bringin' mo' carnage
than the average savage live in havoc
dont thread the best unless ya wanna die like the rest
ease my stress with totes of canibus while yall diss
im chillin' like maximus full potential
we never bought out chips just sought out
takin' over islands reestablish demands
with illegal contrabands one man stand dont need no fan
feel me i be the straight loco true colo ******* by nature
too a few bites from forbidden manzana
makin'  miracles like ana from lyrical content
bites critics like piranhas sound the black madonna whos gonna?
stop me once i began the tears
so you imitators
commentators beware

Muhammad Ali is such a pretty boy
Is it hard for him to read?
but it is easy for him to lead
is it hard for him to write?
but easy for him to fight

Is Muhammad Ali not too bright?
keep thinking that
while he dances around so light
who else could please the crowd?
not bright? He made his mama proud.

In our hearts, he is still
as Ali said,
floatin like a butterfly
and stingin like a bee.
we miss you, Muhammad Ali
Rest In Peace.

C.H.

last night i slit my wrists
seems im stuck in the negatives
so out of luck for a better life
only kinda thing i can bet
is this knife in my chest before bed
i dont even get whats said
all i hear is kid dont do this yet
think about the different sedatives
you can do all these medicines
im like leave me to my mind
let me breathe head is weak
your takin up my oxygen
im hopin to pass time
brought in a blackout
nothin but the hot blade
stingin in my throat
goodbye

i remember you like winter- untold
a whistle in the heft of its dawn
warm in the touch of numbing air
another narrative yet to unfold


i remember you like tempest- still
haze and nimbus and blur
neptune setting down quiet amidst the thrill
akin to a morning dew sleeping on a leaf


i remember you like midnight sky
mirroring fragile stars gone astray
beyond the compass of the pacific sweeping eyes
wandering through the desert of space and time


i remember you like an afternoon pouring rain
running gently down my windowpane
fog blearing the cracks across the looking glass
another riddle yet to unravel until the last


yet...


still.


i remember you like the summer campfire sea breeze
a silver lining in the deep end
that mellow tinge of red on the horizon
amidst the serene azure no wind could mend


i remember you like my fervid morning alarms
a quiver that keeps me grounded
a tune amongst the chaos that surrounds it
the melody of a new day


i remember you like the distant lies i tell myself
that i will never be enough for somebody
intensely during dark days like these
i remember you. like i remember myself


you remind me of a ghost feeling
often swept off by thoughts that speak louder
stingin spines, humming veins, that crease across your cheeks
and all that is concealed under


lastly- not
i remember you as you are
imperfect
but mine.

The trenches are callin’ again, trenches
That run alongside the country roads
Like disgruntled pups trackin’
The stench of desertin’ fowls,

These roads are now scuppered,
Littered with wailin’ canyons
Where rodents linger
To escape the gammy claws
That stir our last supper,

A supper that rudely stiffens
Like the mud upon a boot: brittle
And forgotten, uneven
And absolute,

And what of the smell?
The smell that comes
With the mud upon our boots:
It wafts into the trenches
Lickin’ our cracked irises, and
Stainin’ our grubby suits,

A stingin’ smell that paints
Our stomachs black, and
Sends boys to the dummy Saints
Who are teased at the plaque,

And yet, this abhorrent stench
Is only a pungent memory,
Much more dire stains
Await us over the rim, a rim
Emblazoned with thicket chains
And a bramble corpse, warnin’
The juveniles not to rush
The country walk.