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Obadiah Grey Dec 2013
Sphincter factor nine approaches
food for the fish n roaches
methinks its time for me perhaps
to open up the rearward *****.


------------------------------------
AAChoo !!

Oh, liddle sister, Josephine,
you sure don't keep your
nose real clean.
got stalactites
o' pure pea green
my infectious sibling
snot machine.
----------------------------------------
I thought that I might shoot the breeze
with God or Mephistopheles
and ask them please to ease my wheeze
of my bad back and dodgy knees
---------------------------
Croak with the raven
bluff with the crow
the urchin
the field mouse
beneath the hedgerow
in a flurry they scurry
away away go.
Yelp with the *****
howl with the hound
and bay at the moon
till the sun comes around.
------------------------------------------
Gino's bar and grill.

Away, away afore Bacchus
doles out befuddlement
and Morpheus has his way,
lest I awake to find myself
in the company of
sodamistic bedfellows
with buggery in mind.
---------------------------------
Harry Potter has grown a beard
he lives alone and turned out weird.
Dumbledore, Albus, no more
turned his toes and 'ad a snore,
Voldemort, who's *** is taut
has no nose with which to snort.
====================

Ahem !!

Behind two Lilies- sits Rose,
then Daisies
for two and a bit rows.
with Poppy, and *****
Petunia, Primrose.
and Bryony - who gets up
- my nose.
----------------------------------------------
Amen.
God bless the Cows - for beef burgers.
God bless the Pig - for their bacon.
God bless the wife n her sharp knife
for the slice of their **** she's taken.

-------------------------------------------------
We can, no more fetter the sea to the shore
nor the clouds to the sky
or tether the glint
in a lovers eye,
As sure as the shore loves the sea
so shall I love thee, together,
together for eternity,

-----------------------------------

It bends for thee
sweet chevin,
the cane thats cleaved
by three,
wilt thou now
sweet chevin
yield, my friend ,
for me.
-------------------------------------------------
There's Marmalade then Marmite
and Jams thats jammed between
the buttered bread of bard-dom
a poets sweet cuisine.
---------------------------------------------
I took up campanology
and fired up my ****.
I rang that bell
to ******* hell
till the busies
came along.
--------------------------------------------
so, I've been whittling away
at a buoyant ****-
fashioned something approximating
a poo canoe-
in it, I intend to
surf the **** tsunami of old age
to-- death;
I have named it Public - Service - Pension.


----------------------------------------------

A surreptitious delightful tryst,
with my honey, my sebaceous cyst.
she's my pimple, my wart,
my gumboil consort.
she's the zip, in which
my *******, got caught.
--------------------------------------
Frayed at the bottoms
ripped at the knee.
baggy and saggy
big enough for three.
faded and jaded
and stained with ***
but I'm due for a new pair--
Yippeeeee!!

---------------------------------------

Ther­e's Cockerel in my ear
and he bills and coo's for you
whenever you are near
goes - **** a doodle doo !!!!!,,,,,,,,

---------------------------------------------

Oh,­ for the snap shut skin
in the blue twang of youth
and to un-crack the spine
on the book of love.
now the gulping years
have flown away
we take sips of the night
and are spoon fed the day.

-----------------------------

Zeus made the Moose to be somewhat obtuse,
a big deer- rather queer- I fear.
then God gave him the nod to look funny and odd
the spitting image of you - my dear !!!

---------------------------------------

Knobbly Nobby.

Nobby has a great big nose
a great big nose has he,
and nobby knows
that his big nose,
is big, as big can be,
nobby has two knobbly knees
two knobbly knees has he,
his knobbly knees,
are as knobely
as knobbly knees can be,
don’t pity dear old nobby
for soon it’s plain to see,
that nobby has a great big ****
as big, as big as three !
now nobbys **** is knobly,
as knobly as a **** can be,
so nose and knee and ****
make three,
and we - are ****- ely.

----------------------------------

The Woman that wouldn't eat meat,
had reeaally, reeaally big feet,
her **** was as big as an hermaphrodite brig
and her **** were as hard as concrete….


--------------------------------

Hearken the clarion call of the crows
afore the snow-
they caw,
hey, get your **** into gear lads-
we gotta feckin go !!!

-----------------------------

Gods pad

I took a peek within
your house
wherein on pew, I spied
a mouse,
and in his hand,
a Bible clasped,
and out his mouth,
a parable rasped,

---------------------

I'd say she had
a pigeon loft in
her eyes and
bluebells up
her nose.

But then again
I wear a flat cap

and stroll through meadows.

----------------------------

Would you care to buy our house?
It's minus Mouse n devoid o' Louse,!
Spiders, Roaches, Bugs or other,
have all been eaten by my brother,
snaffled up n swallowed down
then jus' crapped out a - yellowish brown.
so would you care to buy our house?
from an oddly pair -- devoid of nous

-------------------------

Though the Crows got her eyes
and the Worms got her gut.
comes as no surprise
death can't keep her mouth shut.

-------------------

Bevelled slick edges
and reeaal eeaasy slopes.
Chilli dip wedges
with fresh artichokes.
Wanton loose wenches
and swivel hipped ******
Daft dawgs and dentures
and granddad - who snores.

-------------------

Been whittling away at a buoyant ****
and fashioned something approximating a canoe,
in it, I intend to surf the **** tsunami of old age;
I named it, "Public service pension"

-------------------------------

.
Well,
     I could wax on the wings of a butterfly
but, I ain't that kind o' guy.
rather kick the nuts off ******* squirrels
pluck the wings off - blue assed fly.
I'm the stuff that flops off dog chops
when he's up for it and high.
an infection in your sphincter,
a well
that's jus' run dry.

----------------------------------------------

befeathered­ and bright scarlet
is my ladies bonnet,
jauntily askew and -
lilting on a paramours
grin.

"- Gladlaughffi -"

I'm reliably informed that dear ol' Muma
sported a goatee around his **** sphincter,
now, whilst this is merely educated speculation
from my esteemed friend his "groom of the stool" ! 
who was in fact required to wear a mask,
ear muffs and a blindfold whilst he went about his business,
He did possess reeaaally sensitive fingertips
somewhat akin to a blind man reading brail,,
and, swore blind that said "**** sphincter' spoke him in Arabic
and asked him for a quick trim, (short back and sides)
I myself being a practising proctologist of some repute
am inclined to believe my friend the "groom of the stool"
as I've come recognise -- Arsolian when I hear it !!!!!!!!
-------------------------------------

In a Belfast sink by the plughole
where hair and gum gunk meet
'erman the germ-man  and toe jam
bop the bacillus beat.

________

Doctor this I know as fact
that I have a blocked digestive tract,
I'm all bunged up and cannot go
my trump and pump is - somewhat slow.
I need unction jollop for junction wallop
some sorta lotion to give me motion.
If you could please just ease my wheeze
then I needn't grunt and push and squeeze.

-----------------------------

They are breaking out the thwacking sticks
and sparking Godly clogs
pulling tongues through narrowed lips
at the infidel yankee dogs.

------------------------------------

As a paid up member of the
lumpen bourgeoisie poetry appreciation society
I can confirm without fear of contradiction
that poetry is indeed baggy underwear
with ample ball room, voluminous in the extreme
and takes into account
the need for the free flow of flatulent gassiness
that is the want of a ****** up poet.

-----------------------------------------------

She's a rough hewn Trapezoidal gal
a gongoozler o' the ol' canal.
She's copper bottomed n fly boat Sal.

I'll have thee know that
that there hat
is a magic hat,
it renders me invisible
to the arty intelligentsia
and roots me firmly
in the lumpen proletariat .
-------------------------------------------------------
Said the sneaky Scotsman, Jim Blaik.
if the pension, you wish to partake,
bend over my son, lets get this thing done
and cop for this thick trouser snake !!

I met my uncle Albert,
down at Asda, in aisle three;
he got there in a Mazda,
jus' a smidgen after me,
said he'd traversed Sainsburys,
Tesco Liddle n the Spar,
but not one o' them flogged Caviar
Truffles or Foie gras.


He sidled past the pork pies
streaky bacon turkey thighs
a headin for the french fries
n forsaken knock down buys,
shimmied 'round the ankle biters;
expectant mums to be,
popin pills for bloated ills
in the haberdashery.

Fandango'd o'er the cornflakes
and the spillage in isle four

-----------------

I'm linier and analogue,
a ribbon microphone man
mired in the dust of the monochromatic,
the basement, the attic.

------------------------------

Simple simon met miss Tymon going to the fair,
said simple simon to miss Tymon - "pfhwarr what a luverly pair"
of silken thighs and big brown eyes and scrumptious wobbly bits,
Said simple Simon to miss Tymon---------- shame about you **** !!!

So sad sweet Shirl thought she'd give a whirl to clubbercise n pound

Squat, slightly,
tilt head 45°
and squint.
See the shimmering blurry
dot in the distance?
That, timorous ****,
is ME !
Fast twitching my
narrow white ****
to the pub.

There was a young lady named Sue.
whose ***** and **** was askew,
whilst taking a ****
she'd aim it and miss
and she lifted 'er hat when she blew.


Oh Mon Dieu !!

Obi.
Northern Poet Jan 2019
Look at all these wannabe gangsters
Terrorising our streets
That one's wearing camouflage trousers
Just wait till you hear him speak
'Dems bear skills mate'
'Can you lend me fifty bar?'
He sounds like he's from Los Angeles
Doing time in the yard
But he's not
He still lives at home with his mum
And his pregnant girlfriend
And he's under the thumb
You see them outside Tesco
But they're not shopping for pesto
Let's go
They've seen the old bill
He's known around this town
For selling dodgy pills
Guns, knives and slang
That's what you need
If you wanna be in their gang
No education
Just a stolen Playstation
And don't forget the ****
Even on a school night
They're out doing speed
You'll see 'em in the park
With a bottle of cider
Then they'll start
On a poor old-timer
Tracky bottoms
And a Burberry hat
Chav fashion
Cause they think they're all that
But the funny thing is
They don't have a clue
They don't think like
Me or you
They think that they're rap stars
Dreaming of fast cars
But they're just wankers
More like 'wannabe gangsters'
Steve Page Nov 2016
Christmas can be a time
when families get together:
Young children scream, wine glasses gleam,
both ready for M&S dinner.

TV's in the corner
rerunning Home Alone,
Heart radio's in the kitchen,
Chris Rea's driving home,
again.

Toddlers find the wrapping
more engaging than the Duplo
Teen couples find the company
less of interest than their own.

The dog's confused and excited
with so many different sources
of scratches and pats, he can't relax,
his whining is remorseless.

Christmas can be a time
when families are missed,
the parcel made last post
winging off to little sis.

Zoom will come in handy
to laugh across the miles,
the screen will mask the tears
and focus on the smiles.

Gran will talk of Christmas past
when everyone was home
'Cept in Gulf War 1 when Uncle John
went away, ....

Christmas can be a time
when budgets get stretched tight,
cash pressures get to breaking point
and prompt senseless fights.

Some focus on opportunity
to spend some gilt-free money,
the only prayers are for extra hours
and a faster tesco trolley.

For others it's simply ' Yuletide'
an excessive celebration,
a winter feast, all you can eat,
give in to all temptation.

Most focus on the family,
even more on the gifts;
there's little time for Jesus
assigned amongst the myths.

Some do remember Jesus
from half forgotten carols,
they know there's something more
than donkeys and angel heralds.

For there He is in the middle,
noticed once in a while;
it's His birthday, but all He's getting
is a half-hearted song and a smile.

He's no longer a babe in a manger,
He's now a resurrected King,
waiting for those who would worship
to stand and welcome Him in.

Whatever your experience of Christmas
you can come just as you are,
His love is unconditional
He'll accept you warts and all.

So come on!
It’s a season to celebrate!
To dance, to sing and to shout!
Your Saviour invites you to join Him,
so when you sing this Christmas, make it count.
http://redeemerlondon.org/about/
Written for our Christmas Carol concert Dec 2016.
Jolts me
like a jump-scare
in a ******* movie

stepping out
of Tesco
and wham bam

she pushes the trolley
towards me
the burr of the wheels

a man I haven’t seen
alongside her
like a magnet

thank you mam

attracted to what
I was attracted to once
and my stomach simmers

the truth revealed
like a relic
emerging from the soil

and I swear
I hear the milk curdle
in its carrier bag.
Written: October 2016.
Explanation: To mark National Poetry Day on 6th October, I wrote 25 poems over the course of eight days, and sent one poem each to one of 25 of my Facebook friends. After some deliberation, I am now posting the poems on HP (in order of when they were written), albeit not all in one go. 'Firework' is poem one, for those of you who wish to read the series in full, in order. None of the poems are about their recipients. Note: Tesco is a British grocery and merchandise retailer, one of the largest of its kind in the world. All feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.
mandy rigby Oct 2014
please give to me a proper job
otherwise I'm on the rob
me tummy hearts n me eyes are poppin
as around the shop i go hoppin
gonna steal new shoes, leave the old ones behind
security .... I'll blow ya mind
aberdeen angus, 21 day steak
come on tesco's give me a break
gonna nick whiskey, and fine wine
I'll be popular come tea time
gonna get the dress of my dreams
a vivien westwood, with tailored seams
lingerie, make up, and perfume
i'll get some attention .. in my living room

(c) msrigs 07/10/2014
David W Clare Feb 2015
I lived on the city streets of Bangkok Thailand for years, I felt right at home I know Bangkok inside out

...from the sukhumvit in nana klong toey to Khoa San road to Klong Thom market in China town to orient circle at night the most incredible high crimson monolith I ever seen to

Chao Phraya river near wat Sam phraya Buddhist temples to samut prakhon to Sam rong imperial world to bang na to on nut Tesco Lotus to

ekami to BTS sky train to Siam center plaza to Phetcheburi road to Pantib Plaza

I would walk for days nonstop with no money no food no room beat up a lot

knifed gang attacks had two switchblade knifes pepper spray wore wigs and barefoot in age old soot many kilometers on foot through the took tooks exhaust at the cost of lusting for Thai girls ***!

a kid in a candy shop Thai baht sniffed out by lovely Thai ****** they know how to thrill steal and **** a man 10,000 years old bold tradition consumes your soul

Sweet **** teenage Asian girls will ******* to ruin. Black and blue dumbfounded man taken down faster than a sandblaster can

Dilapidated old buildings all rusted.
Sidewalks all busted apart chased by dogs Siamese cats all over at night Bangkok is Halloween every night of the year especially in nana near soi 11-5

The era of the diamond Siamese cats that's the price to pay to come to Thailand!

Silom road explodes with colored gemstones and Thai gold chains to dazzle the girls who entertain you at Pat Pong and deploy joy at Soi Cowboy

Hanuman king God of the monkeys flys on your back to attack your backpack Jack

Sultry femme fatale ladyboys exist to emerge nightly sinister moves to take down the forang old man *** clown

Drunk bar man crawls around to eat kitty girls pink underwear so beware fool dog of the danger lurking at every corner don't warn her she already knows you wanna **** on her cute Asian toes

Signs all over read ... We love our king
He resembles Michael Jackson with a cowboy hat, and gold military jackets

I was in very good health from eating fruits water pad Thai pla mook fish and sangsom and Chang
I could speak basic Thai

Bumrungrad hospital on soi 1 - 3
Is the top rated in se Asia

I was tested as age 18 healthwise

I was not surprised

The environment is superb to health

Nice Thai people nice asian **** slutty girls to hang out with and more so much more
Age notwithstanding

Thailand is indeed...

A whole other world
Krong Thep, Siam became Bangkok in 1769...
itsall iwrite Jun 2018
my big fat gypsy colneyhatch tesco car park 18.06.18

going to go to town
adamant  not going to do a apology
my loyalty lye's with fake tan and crown
ch4 made me fall in love with a gypsy.
a very slow reaction
why on earth the lapse
more or less invited a fair ground attraction
no sympathy to collapse.
brewing is a major dispute
no social housing neighbours for pardons
going to now destroy and pollute
a argument against is camden gardens.
going to be tricky
no one is waving like mexico
like  price fixing scandal and fingers sticky
a new battle has tesco.
going to end with a heading
love is expressed in poetry
inspired to help  my big fat gypsy wedding
this was written with love for paddy doherty.
hate to explain poetry.
judy smith Sep 2015
Cheap fancy dress costumes are to be subject to spot checks by trading standards inspectors, to avoid a repeat of the fire that seriously injured the daughter of the television presenter Claudia Winkleman.

Ministers have ordered the nationwide crackdown as thousands more children’s outfits and accessories, some of which are aimed at babies and toddlers, go on sale online and in supermarkets in the runup to Halloween.

The costumes, ranging from witches’ outfits to skeleton onesies, selling as cheaply as £6 each, will be subjected to flammability tests to assess whether they are compliant with safety standards.

The crackdown follows Winkleman’s warning about fancy dress costumes when her daughter suffered serious burns as her outfit, bought from a supermarket, caught fire. Winkleman questioned why the outfits were treated as toys rather than clothing when it came to safety tests.

The business secretary, Sajid Javid, said: “My immediate concern as a father and a minister is that children wearing these fancy dress costumes are safe. It is unacceptable for any costumes to be sold that do not comply with safety standards. That’s why I’ve granted funding to trading standards to carry out spot checks as part of a nationwide investigation. Parents should feel confident that any fancy dress they buy meets required standards.”

His department said it was working with the British Standards Institute to assess whether the applicable European safety controls needed to be more tough. Trading standards is to report back to the business secretary with their findings later in the autumn.

Sales of fancy dress costumes for children have soared in recent years, prompted by cheap imports being available and children increasingly wanting to dress as their favourite characters from blockbuster films. Halloween outfits have become more popular in the UKowing to the influence of American films and sitcoms. Supermarkets report that 31 October accounts for significantly more consumer spending than Bonfire night.

The dangers of the outfits were exposed in November last year when Winkleman’s eight-year-old daughter, Matilda, suffered serious burns when her witch costume caught alight. The outfit – a hat, cape, striped tights and flowing skirt – bought at a supermarket, was ignited by a flame.

Winkleman, host of the BBC show Strictly Come Dancing, said on Thursday: “We’re extremely happy the government are taking action on this and we’re so grateful to the supermarkets who are selling safer costumes.”

Some retailers have agreed to go further than minimum standards, after a recent investigation launched by Winkleman with the BBC1 series Watchdog. Tesco, Aldi, Asda, Morrisons, and Sainsbury’s, all responded to the investigation by stating that their fancy dress outfits for children would meet the equivalent of the higher fire safety standards required for youngsters’ nightwear.

A spokesman for Sainsbury’s said: “We have looked at every detail of our children’s dress-up range in creating our new standard and believe that it will be industry leading. This has not been a simple task, but the safety of children is our number one priority and introducing more rigorous safety standards for our children’s dress-up is the right thing to do.

“All clothing carries some fire risk, but we hope that introducing our own rigorous testing standards that test clothes as clothes rather than as toys will be the first step towards safer testing across the industry.”

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney
Yeah
well I sat in the barbers chair while you walked up and down the crowded aisles in a half deserted Tesco store
I wondered why
what was it for?
The freezer stood alone at home
freezing cold as was its wont but it was stacked with want me nothing more at all
for it was full up to its freezing chin
with something brought from albuquerque
and two fifths of London Gin.

The barber gave a weirdly grin and gave me one of number two
I should have fekin known that's what the little *** would do
but you just wandered round and did you see that skinhead passing by the deli' counter?
that was me
I waved atop my fresh shaved head
but I was dead meat on the cooked meat and it shook me wide awake
I need to take a breather
might even leave her
she would not care
she's got Tesco's in her brain and not to mention in her hair with apple summer fresh smell,how much dumber can one get
well if I stick about just watch this space
look out for the smiling vacant face
that will be me
taking her
to do her hair
just like mine.
ioan pearce Feb 2010
we'm from the valleys,
high in wales,
dull  as donkeys,
hard as nails.

torvaen town,blaenavon gwent,
council caves,that some pay rent.
black and white tellys,
run on gas,
houses wiv lectric,is upper class.

we shoplift in winter,
cos summers no good,
you  can't wear coats,
you can't wear hoods.

we once mined coal,
made steel and iron,
honest hardmen,
pittance relied on.

now thats all gone,
thro government bullies,
now hoodies steal goodies,
from tesco and woolies.

valley boy logic,
philosophy real,
all good fings come.
....to those who steal.
ju Sep 2011
You’re going to be fine.
?
I am, see?
.
You will. I came to tell you stuff. Listening?
.
Jumble sale shoes. I know you’ve got acrylics somewhere. Paint them.
?
The shoes. Flowers and dragons like you draw up your arms. They’re really good by the way. No one in school draws like you.
.
We are. You just have to be good-different. Stop hiding the whole time. Everyone loves your drawing.
.
We still like painting, reading…
?
It’ll happen when you’re 11. The letters un-jumble and it makes sense.
!
Honestly.
.
And at Christmas- tell Mum it’s your idea: Keeping him away from the ***** makes him cross- no point. Give him a drink as early as possible. By noon he’s unconscious and you put him to bed. Looks like he hit his head real hard but he woke up.
?
It’s OK. He doesn’t remember a thing. Works every year.
.
Stuff heals. It gets better. Everything. Life is excellent. People say you’re pretty, won’t believe it but you are. And we live on a good street in a warm house by the sea.
!
Honestly, cross my heart.
.
There’s one last thing. Listening?
.
Learn to laugh silently, no sound what so ever. I know you can’t imagine it- but she gets her revenge and it’s going to be funny. Takes years. You must play along or it won‘t work. So laugh silently.
?
Just one example then: Do you go to the car-boot sales yet?
.
On a Sunday in June, only 7AM but it’s so hot! She spots a koi carp in the road.
?
Like a giant goldfish. This one was huge. Probably dropped by a heron or something.
.
She moves it onto the verge and keeps walking. It's still there at 1.30. Been baking up on that verge all morning in full sun. Smothered in ants, horrible.
.
She wraps it in a Tesco bag and a bin liner- it stinks. As soon as you get in she starts frying onions, making pastry, white sauce. Dad eats fish pie for supper.
?
She made us a separate one.
.
Lyss Gia Jan 2019
Mary, plain name.  Mary, mother of God
Mary, Queen of the Strip Mall
Mary, daughter of a King and a *****
Divinity in her blood, conqueror of lands,
Monarch of her body, kingdom of junkies.
Nails inlaid with pearls, mink lashes and onyx eyes
Indigo polyester wraps her 36, 30, 41,
saltwater taffy legs, ****, and ***.
Mary wasn’t a tall boy, Mary is a funnel cloud queen
Obsidian brazilian in velcro, soda can curls.
Mary has no titles, Mary is a *******, Mary is an exile.
Queen of cream stucco and neon and parking lots.
Mary has disciples, all named Judas.
She has Roy Cohn, the judge’s son, and Louis XIV on their knees in prayer.
She has **** Cheney, Little Richard, and Freud their knees in the bathroom behind the Tesco.
Mary doesn’t confess, doesn’t beg, doesn’t buy.
Mary the conqueror, Alexander reincarnate, she survives.
Body bathed in ultraviolet, cocoa butter, vaseline, and newport menthols.
Mary talks to God in the mirrors at the salvation army.
Mary is scared of dying, she knows she is no ones martyr.
Mary never kneels, left the Bible in the motel nightstand.
A graceful end, a unceremonious departure.
Trade rose petals for needles and styrofoam slurpee cups.
Mary’s mistresses, lovers, and wives, gave her a few lead rounds,
Left her in the strip mall mausoleum.
Mary, queen of the carnal, saint of suburban perversions.
Mary never asked God for forgiveness or a fix.
irinia Sep 2015
We are the terraced women
piled row on row on the sagging, slipping hillsides of our
                                                                                               lives.
We tug reluctant children up slanting streets
the push chair wheels wedging in the ruts
breathless and bad tempered we shift the Tesco carrier bags
                                                                          from hand to hand
and stop to watch the town

The hill tops creep away like children playing games

our other children shriek against the school yard rails
‘there’s Mandy’s mum, John’s mum, Dave’s mum,
Kate’s mum, Ceri’s mother, Tracey’s mummy’
we wave with hands scarred by groceries and too much
                                                                                   washing up
catching echoes as we pass of old wild games

after lunch, more bread and butter, tea
we dress in blue and white and pink and white checked
                                                                                          overalls
and do the house and scrub the porch and sweep the street
and clean all the little terraces
up and down and up and down and up and down the hill

later, before the end-of-school bell rings
all the babies are asleep
Mandy’s mum joins Ceri’s mum across the street
running to avoid the rain
and Dave’s mum and John’s mum – the others too – stop
                                                                                                for tea
and briefly we are wild women
girls with secrets, travellers, engineers, courtesans, and stars
                                                                                 of fiction, films
plotting our escape like jail birds
terraced, tescoed prisoners rising from the household dust
like heroines.

Pennyanne Windsor, from *Poetry 1900-2000 One hundred poets from Wales
It just means I understand!
Roger that,
but
you have a devious mind and
a tormented agenda
when the wind's in the West
I believe
that what's good for the goose
is for the best.



Altogether counting my blessings
the number I arrive at is
surprising,
like I've had my fingers in too many pies in
too many pie shops
and licking my lips at the thought of the crust,
just kidding
but I do understand
and yet
I don't speak Russian
a failing
or falling
not sure
but
I speak English with an accent,
not plummy like her Majesty


guess that's it,
they say confession's good for the soul
unsure who's,
Roger that?
Obadiah Grey Jan 2012
Shoppin wiv Albert.



I met my uncle Albert,
down at Asda, in aisle three;
he got there in a Mazda,
jus' a smidgen after me,
said he'd traversed Sainsburys,
Tesco Liddle n the Spar,
but not one o' them flogged Caviar
Truffles or Foie gras.


He sidled past the pork pies
streaky bacon turkey thighs
a headin for the french fries
n forsaken knock down buys,
shimmied 'round the ankle biters;
expectant mums to be,
popin pills for bloated ills
in the haberdashery.
Obadiah Grey Dec 2011
RIP,,, Obadiah.

here lies the body of Obadiah grey
choked on a bowl of soup they say
bought from Tesco’s last tuesday
fifty nine pence beef consommé,

Obadiah Obadiah Obadiah grey,
sure don’t smell a sweet bouquet,

here lies the body of Obadiah grey,
departed life yesterday,
ate too much of the free buffet
silly **** now has to pay,

Obadiah Obadiah Obadiah grey,
already started to decay................YAY!!!

We bunged up his holes
n buried him deep;
because the ******'s dead now
and began to seep.
London is an onion.
Not one of those big, brown juicy globes
you can buy in packs of three, from Tesco,
No, an earthy, shrivelled relic from an old geezer's allotment,
With trailing fronds and a few infestations.
If you were to take a bite, your eyes would smart and your body rebel with a cough, a shudder and a wheeze,
But moments later, a smile would be playing round your lips,
Such a sensory adventure, though not exactly pleasant, can still be savoured,
And you'll remember the taste forever.

Londoners are weevils, hiding in the layers.
Outer, inner, some of us worm our way between them all.
Me, I tend to head for the heart of the thing,
Soho, Southwark, the inner sanctums.
I sometimes venture nearer the surface, the outer edges,
But too close to the unknown, and unfamiliar air,
And I start to pine for the centre.
You can work between the layers,
But the many skins are tougher than you'd think,
Better to burrow down, find a place to sustain
The appetite of a hungry little grub.
Paul Gilhooley May 2016
Widnes aint much, but to me she’s sweet home,
Safe refuge from wherever I roam,
Many may claim that she’s ugly and ******,
But open your eyes, and she’s really quite pretty.

From down by the snig, to up to the Crown,
There’s pubs a plenty where sorrows can drown,
The Globe, The Coterie, now Pesto of course,
But to all us old locals, it’s still the Black Horse.

Town centre drunks, laugh while they rant,
Old ICI and their Paraquat plant,
An industrial past, its dirt and its grime,
A ***** old river, her sludge and her slime.

Of nature reserves, we have quite a few,
From out of our wastelands, something wonderful grew,
Wildlife thriving where once we dumped *******,
Now even the Mersey lives once more with fish.

The factory smells that insulted our noses,
Spike Island, proud host once to the Stone Roses,
Paul Simon himself, when loneliness found,
On one of our stations,  wrote Homeward Bound.

The Beatles once played our dear Queens Hall,
Derelict now, no more curtains to call,
We love our music live and loud,
We truly are a passionate crowd.

A sporty town, but leagues our game,
Tho’ recent years have been quite a shame,
Myler, Karalius, Davies, Offiah,
Crowned World champs, our status climbed higher.

Proud we cheered in old Naughton Park,
The cowsheds, cold, smelly and dark,
The glory days, they came and went,
Old fans speak in sad lament.

The whole town’s roads, my how they’ve changed,
Drivers sit there now, all deranged,
Confusing sets of roundabouts,
That lead us there, or thereabouts.

Morrisons, Aldi and now a Tesco,
Asda Halebank, well that had to go,
A curious accent, not manc or scouse,
Just hear us speak with Woolyback nouse.

W’s in words, like one, two, three, foewer,
And entering homes, through a front doewer,
It’s hard to explain in a few lines here,
But a few minutes in town, and all becomes clear.

Bowling, cinema and now an ice rink,
The town is recovering, back from the brink,
There’s Costa, Next, Boots and Wilkos,
Who else is coming, no one quite knows.

Widnes has changed in my 40 years,
But filled with hopes now instead of fears,
Change for the better? Let’s wait and see,
But no matter what, she’s still home to me.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2012
Poem written about my beloved home town.  She aint much, but she's home to me.
Mr Bigglesworth Mar 2013
Today she brought her lunch in a Tesco’s bag
She had Co Op cheese,
Waitrose rolls,
And Sainsbury’s basic butter

Does she not care that people see she shops around!?
At least she can guarantee there is no horse
Jane dale Jun 2014
Such expectation in our hearts,
When the World Cup football starts,
Off to Tesco, for shirts and flags,
Carried home in plastic bags,
3 Lions worn upon our chest,
England's going to be the best,
Little kids collecting  footy cards,
In sticker books, they love this part,
You know where they will be found,
Swapping cards in the playground,
Our team heroes now they stand in line,
Mumbling national anthem, or some just mime,
Our pubs are full, the fans all wait,
For our team England to be just great,
Yet once again, it's a crock of ****,
Still we can't quite believe it,
Our national team can't find the goal,
Been better if we'ad learned to bowl,
Excelled ourselves this time, it seems,
An early exit home, it means,
In some ways it's ended all the fuss,
Of buttock clenching, for all of us!
Steve Page Nov 2023
Christmas can be a time
when families get together:
Young children scream, wine glasses gleam,
waiting for M&S dinner.

The TV's in the corner
rerunning Home Alone,
Heart radio's in the kitchen,
Chris Rea's driving home,
again.

The toddlers find the wrapping
more engaging than the Duplo
Teen couples find the company
less of interest than their own.

The dog's confused and excited
with so many different sources
of scratches and pats, she can't relax,
her whining is remorseless.

Christmas can be a time
when families are missed,
the parcel made last post
winging off to little sis.

Zoom will come in handy
to laugh across the miles,
the screen will mask the tears
and focus on the smiles.

Christmas can be a time
when budgets get stretched tight,
cash pressures get to breaking point
and prompt senseless fights.

Some focus on opportunity
to spend some gilt-free money,
the only prayers are for extra hours
and a faster Tesco trolley.

For others it's simply ' Yuletide'
an excessive celebration,
a winter feast, all you can eat,
give in to all temptation.

Most focus on the family,
even more on the gifts;
there's little time for Jesus
assigned amongst the myths.

Some do sing of Jesus
in half forgotten carols,
they know there's something more
than donkeys and angel heralds.

And there He is in the middle,
noticed once in a while;
it's His birthday, but all He's getting
is a half-hearted song and a smile.

But He's no longer a babe in a manger,
He's now a resurrected King,
And he waits for you who would worship
to stand and welcome Him in.

Christmas can be a time
for each of us to choose -
Our Christmas King stands waiting
Will we worship Him in truth?
re-write for 2023
Snowflakes from sleepy land land on my eye lids
creeping in and on and out and over I'm melatonin silenced,
feeling serenity,
I'm supposed to be writing
but "actually I'm not regretting it"
Dreams are inviting me like I've been spiked with ketamine
Should I let them in?
I love sleep too much
So I didn't make it to bed again

It's not a want,
It's a need a necessity,
It's something I need to achieve what is best in me
So if you're waking me bring bacon
I won't just be ******* your life is forsaken,
Especially if I was dreaming about flying like a plane again....

I like a snatched sleep on the bus or the train,
But I love the car no risk of sleeping too far
and waking up in staines

One time I fell asleep on the train...
I was stuck on it for ages...
One outside tesco where your supposed to put 20p and a baby in it
Seems to be happening alot to me lately
But I have always falling asleep in public places
One time my mom thought she'd lost me,
I was asleep on a the sofa in Laura Ashley
"Dear, where's your mommy? The shop assistant asked me
I didn't know and I didn't care all I wanted was to go to sleep
Strange memories rethunk,
Relayered and rewired
twisting and turning until they become suffering,
time for bed again, I'm tired.
Life's a Beach May 2014
So you're gonna bash my face in
You're gonna '**** me up'
When did hiding behind a Tesco's knife
Point be considered this
Tough
Hush hush little brat
Try to hide your blush
Why did you never listen when
Your mum whispered "enough"

So go on, bash my face in
I thought you said you'd '**** me up'
The first time someone told you that
Enough is quite enough
Come in then, you're 'tough'
Funny thing is you turn to mush
When we take you Tesco shield point
You don't seem to act so tough
"Fak uu"
Hush hush little child
Don't join my queue
You are vile

And, quite frankly, in blatant, Latent Denial.
CM Rice Dec 2013
I rolled my own tobacco tightly, lips pursed through a gormless grin,
As he, the idle Gean Canach, warming up, kisses a lonesome gin,
This dream as told to be his tonic - the bitter slice - so I begin...

Musing over beauty, his admirable hair, warholic an' fitted to wear,
Of Tartan-clad men whose ghosts have chequered stares,
An' Art, Free Speech, Faith, dipped in batter - much to his despair,

Of people, prickened purple as they blow a silent whistle,
To how the sun beams through heather-fields of shared pistols,
An' those scattered morsels of society, left to nothing but the gristle,

To how more questions than answers affect his whispered speech,
Yet he stirs mulling over youth and language receded to their peak,  
'...Come, I'll walk you back to your hiding place – safely out of reach...!'

Back home to talk of MacDiarmid and McFarlan, to agree and feel solemn,
As he explains that a poisoned bee carries but only poisoning pollen,
An' how a love of our country, for its freedom, is all we have in common,
  
He tells of the tears from the Nationalist, nation-less, who lives in arrears,
Of the ink further dried on the receipt of forced union; of some 400 years,
An' that of my friend the leprechaun; ****** on the burnt grass that he shears,

An' now he exclaims - '… Swallow the pound..! Gulp on its hardened flesh...,
...We are as separate -  the reluctant strawberry atop this eton mess...,
The majesty of our homes, as one, forever in a state of undress,

...We shall squander fortunes on entire pleasures dear to empty minds,
The resources of our country fixed to the crown with no benefit in kind,
Computerised Tesco's an' ****** at the BBC is all that we will find...'

It is time to take our leave; he has risen sharply an' yet crumbles into a seat,  
The fires of the red sun burn for independence with stomping feet,
My dream recited, I wander still, and turn to the fools an' scoundrels on the street.
Imagined in conversation with Edwin Morgan.
Joe Bradley Nov 2014
Winter has coaxed
its radiator enduced
ether
and the time has come
for colds, snot
and sinuses.
Blackness
gathers us
to our tangerine
oasis - and
living room
televisions.

I left,
to walk through the
winter city.
I saw
empty car parks and
Christmas lights,
and thought London
was dying.

A fox grappled
with a tesco's
plastic bag.

I walked through
a winter forest.
I saw creepers
on gravestones
and
Victorian gore
settled into the earth.

I put my ear to the ground
to hear the worms
eating dead bodies
and all the while
the stars turned
overhead
like a millers wheel.
Antony Glaser Jan 2016
They don't have donkeys at  South Bermondsey or market stalls.
The pigeons find it easy to loiter
the thoroughfare now
fish and chip wrappings are considered passe.
I wonder if the girls should dress  in black
as a counter statement
against the new builds above Tesco.
A sort of mourning for these  changes.
What's left of community?
last shot down by mothers helpers.
Town planners,  gosh
nail and  execution executive

— The End —