"Sit down, shut up and listen....
"Don't tell her that your feet,
start to glisten
and go clammy when you meet,
"And keep it to yourself,
that your desperate on the shelf,
and missin' (you know what),
so desperateleeee....

"So never let her know,
you've been lickin' her window,
never  tell her of your
trouble down belowwww..!"
"And if your feelings linger,
don't offer her your fingers -
here love have a  smell!
*******!

"As  for playing hard to get,
you may as well forget,
there's nae a lassie in the
toon so desperate!"
"But don't you start a-praying,
God will laff at what you're saying,
and send you down
to Satan for a pet".

"Now it does seem that is that,
you're a skinny Welshy ****,
you will hear it from
Scotswomen one and all
They will cut you down to size,
stick their fingers in your eyes,
and make a set of earrings from your *****!"

"The only chance you got,
is to study and to swot,
to practice every hour and every day.
And if it ****** fails,
you just polish up your nails,
and sing ok, I'll be a ****** gay!"

Fay met Baruch
by Arch Street
off of Meadow Row
he was by

the bombed out ruins
across the way
firing his catapult
at tin cans

and empty bottles
she stood at his side
hands in the pockets
of her cardigan

fair hair held
in place by a slide
not firing at the birds
are you?

she asked
looking anxious
no just cans
and bottles

he said
she seemed relieved
and stepped closer
hate to see things hurt

or killed
she said
he tucked the catapult
into the belt

of his jeans
and wiped his hands
on the blue cloth
your old man

let you out then?
he said
she looked about her
in case her father

was near at hand
to hear
my father’s off
for the day

she said
some church things
she added
good to have you here

Baruch said
he stared at her
taking in her hair
and eyes

and her mouth ajar
lips and small teeth
the patterned dress
coming to the knees

red on yellow
going to the flicks later
you want to come?
he asked

she frowned in thought
where?
Camberwell Green
he said

the picture house
is a fleapit
but the film’s good
she blinked

wiped her nose
no money
she said
Dad said to read

Mark Chapter 9
all through
before he gets home
and he will

question me
and if I don’t know it
she became silent
and looked away

Baruch caught sight
of a bruise yellowing
on her right brow
he’d not seen

until she moved
her hair by hand
to wipe her nose
when’s he back?

Baruch asked
late tonight
she said
best not go

she looked across
the bomb site
towards the coal wharf
where horse drawn wagons

came and went
or coal lorries  
along the small road
carrying their load

got time to take in
a film
he said
be back and study then

the Bible bit
she bit her lip
still got no money
she said

looking back at him
standing there
in jeans and blue shirt  
and mucked up hair

I’ve got 2/6d
that’ll do for us to go
and ride and see
and ride on back

she hesitated
looked concerned
if I don’t know St Mark 9
there’ll be hell to pay

(strapped backside
more like he thought
but didn’t say)
we can scan the pages

once we’re back
and gulp it down
and swot it up
he said

she stared
at her plimsolls
white ankle socks
the stones

and bricks
of the bomb site ground
tempted she said
ok

wanting to go
and be with him
she weighed
the balance

in her mind
pushing possible
punishment to the back
of her mind

already he was walking
towards the bus stop
across the bombsite
in casual pace

she followed
taking his hand in hers
unaware her father
from the top

of a bus
had seen
and taking note
knowing what to say

and do
she being
with that kid again
the downstairs Jew.

I have very little time left
it's such a frustrating thing
still so much to learn
it's a on going mission

If I don't know it I go mad
if I don't acquire it, it makes me sad
I try never to miss a trick
never to slow down on this on going mission

I try to keep my wit's up to 110 percent
push myself to the edge and ask for more
to me it's a mission it's a war of nutrition
as I swot up on my on going mission


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Being a slave,
the world knows that,
Making me to behave,
like a labour swot.
Ignoring my wishes,
and my fresh burns too,
Forcing me to switch,
and giving bad works to do.
Tolerating those inches,
I had done,
Climbing those trenches,
I wondered it fun.
Nevertheless screeching,
swimming the skinny lake,
Now I am bleaching,
the past person awake.
The mindless new philosophies,
had considered me insane,
Proving their abnormalities,
now are all in vain.
Stop being a slave of yourself,
which can’t gain you anything,
Start a new life with own self,
by spreading out new wings.

it wasn’t me who invented love by my ignorance
the same way the painter doesn’t have the heart
to mix pure colors
it was there
in the times when I used to swot the differences
between useful beautiful and pleasing

first of all there grew a tree with red leaves
like man’s or woman’s lips before the first kiss
leaves were another kind of hands
trembling
preparing to fall
rustle over rustle till the last silence

only by chance I shared the same shadow
with a stranger
for the jealousy of those who did not know me
I waited for centuries close to the old tree trunk
my cheek against the dry ground
I couldn’t refuse him when he asked me
to lend him a leaf
and I didn’t even know
where do young butterflies hide when it rains bitter

people say that
after a day that tree was brought down
today no one kills himself
because of love
they’re simply killed little by little

They won't tell you
It's orange or guava
They don't ask you
To buy them that
Tiny toy or shiny shirt
In the showcase
For none they are
Nuances or burden
Keats's sensuousness
Doesn't chram them
Still they move on
Though silently
With rainbow
On their faces
Masking every whiff
Of sobs or grief
To our nosey eyes
How swot, how illustrious, how cool
There is a wide space
Unoccupied in their hearts
And they know anticipation
Of caving is a self deceit
A silver partner,
Like their shadows,
Walks along with them
Each of their footfalls
Is worth praising
As they dishes out
Inspiration to broken hearts
That life is not lived as it is
But it is created and then lived
When it's comfort to us

I invoke myself

The engulfing darkness can scare me naught,
'Cause in sincerity and valour I wert wrought,
O "The night traveler" thyself become a light,
With swot and blood fuel thy lantern in night."

Surpass the goal for a goal beyond the goal,
Whither my goal? For impediments I enroll;
In hot pursuit of myself,  from pillar to post,
An explorer, myself a goal, myself the coast.

A stream of love can engulf oceans of wisdom,
Slaves shaped in Love would swarm a kingdom ,
Reaching out to Self; fans a dying flame to fire!
In  the silent night, I shall wistfully play my lyre.

(By Dr. Riaz Ahmad, December 12, 2020)