Rather Than Twiddle Your Thumbs, Write A Poem...

[toooldtorock]

Theakstons, Adnams, Wyevalley so pale
Raise a glass to British Real Ale
Flowers, Brains, Slaters and Skinners
All of the CAMRA award winners

Directors, Marstons, Titanic and Bass
Don't look good in an empty glass!
Batemans, Castle Rock, Jaipur IPA
Coming out the pump and headin my way

Matt, pour me another and another once more
I won't be happy till I've had half a score
I know it the morning I won't feel so good
But at least I'll know I did all I could !

 

[John Marwood]

Spooks - its a brand new series
But it feels so cheesy
And the acting is hammy
Pass the pickle
Can I have mine on brown?

 

[poetsbumcheeks]

Government Targets, Tiara's and Tears.

Where's the thinkers,
Where's the thought,
Where's the sacrifice or more?

Who says it's right,
Who says we should,
Do we agree about what's good?

Why this way,
Why accept it,
Why does everyone expect it?

How to stop,
How to turn.
How to go to school and really learn?

 

[John Marwood]

Shot a rabbit from the back seat window

Sat and watched the summer corn grow

Ate ice cream in a desert dream

And got lost in father's singing

Too hot inside

Too hot outside

Lazy days when I said let's go for a ride

We'd sail on Spirit Lake

Me, my pappy and his lemonade

 

[basil]

So many questions
So few answers
I canna change owt,
So be it
So be it.................

 

[poetsbumcheeks]

Don't Leave Me to the Wolves

Who speaks the truth through a cracked smile?
Don't leave me to the wolves.
Who cares for the disenfranchised souls abused and pushed to the fringes?
Don't leave me to the wolves.
Who pursues beauty when the world comes on so ugly?
Don't leave me to the wolves.
Who remains fragile, tough and wounded, seeking solace in purity?
Don't leave me to the wolves.
Who embraces the few and believes in the value of the valueless?
Don't leave me to the wolves,
Lest I become one.

 

[basil]

Don't Leave Me to the Wolves

Who speaks the truth through a cracked smile?
Don't leave me to the wolves.
Who cares for the disenfranchised souls abused and pushed to the fringes?
Don't leave me to the wolves.
Who pursues beauty when the world comes on so ugly?
Don't leave me to the wolves.
Who remains fragile, tough and wounded, seeking solace in purity?
Don't leave me to the wolves.
Who embraces the few and believes in the value of the valueless?
Don't leave me to the wolves,
Lest I become one.

Deep......

 

[Withnail]

I like it. Read it a few times and it will be slightly different every time you read it - always a good sign.

 

[poetsbumcheeks]

The Chorus (May You Sing)

From the wells of my soul,
Flowed self-defeating longing.
For the tide to turn on me,
And swallow me whole.

From the wells of my soul,
Spoke history I did not understand.
The universe and all, the collisions of man,
Lonely, out in space floating by a string.

From the river of my heart,
Sang beauty, reaching forever upwards believing in angels.
Melodies of innocence and unawakened desire,
Playing games amongst the imaginary harmony of things.

From the river of my heart,
Stretching beyond feelings alone,
Lay courage, blind courage to carry on regardless.
Letting her lead along the back waters of chaos and hurt.

From the eternal abyss of my mind,
I found secrets I did not wish to know.
But so too I found treasures and fantasies,
Truths and aphorisms I would never ever,
Ever trade.



This Is Not Me I Am Free

I slip and slide,
I turn and weave,
Spin and bend and move away from your abstractions of sensory sense.
All that is understood, is reduced to mere labels.
I am the wind, heard but never seen.

 

[poetsbumcheeks]

Class Struggle (Free Will)

The poor are poor,
The rich are rich.
The lazy are lazy,
The lazy poor are resentful.
The intelligent rich are right,
The intelligent poor are righteous.
The immoral middle class are hypocrites,
The wishful rich are dim.
The wishful dim are endearing,
The thoughtful righteous are philosophers.
The hypocritical philosophers are heretics,
The heretics are the street kids.
The steet kids talk righteous philosophy,
The lazy are the immoral poor.
The wasteful rich are the immoral righteous.
The meaningful wasteful are the philosophical heretics.
The wishful intelligent are dreamers,
The poor resourceful are schemers.
The neglected schemers are tough,
The resourceful neglected are thieves.
The thieving hypocritical are in power,
The powers that be are right.
The right is wrong,
And so the struggle goes on.

 

[gon2seed]

1st Day on operational duties

All day, no shouts,
Bank Holiday, so little to do

Off home in an hour, like a pig in sh**e!

Back tomorrow, for more of the same,
Live is sweet,
ain't it?

 

[John Marwood]

Chip Pan Fire
Out on Arrival

 

[John Marwood]

I can't call you
My phone will be relieved
You can't call me
'Cause someone else will feel deceived
I don't understand this
How did you get hold of me?
You've got me questioning my fidelity

I'll send a package in the post
I've got love to send
Should I want you the most?
It feels like I have no defence

The tree in my garden is blossoming still
It's late this year
It's just like me, it�s wavering
Going through the motions
I want to be at home
It's an effort to get on this plane at all

It was love for sure
Every clich� in the book
I loved you more and more
With every desperate look

Don't thank me for breakfast
With your naked skin
Don't lie, don't pretend
You feel anything
My heart is no longer a friend of mine
It wants to betray me most of the time

I love you my darling
I love you my friend
I love you my darling
But it feels like this is the end

 

[poetsbumcheeks]

ballsy

 

[Withnail]

Didn't really work.

Sorry.

 

[poetsbumcheeks]

The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

He exits through the back door,
Having tried his best,
Or at least the best he could try.
Subjective parameters of conscience,
Delivered by the guiding hands of genetics and love,
Or the lack thereof.

The self-doubt grips as the world kicks him in the teeth again,
There will be nowhere to go tomorrow morning.
No purpose, no frame of reference,
No aspirational goal,
No reason to be good.

Habit, is a slow forming process of repetition,
Through which we acquire, perhaps or perhaps not,
Our identity.
One year spent in waste, brands you with an iron between the eyes.
Many, many years colour the soul.

So proud he was to be somebody,
But the frustrations or the boredom afflicted; with one push of a button,
The elastic sprang back into shape.
The eyes deadened and the heart steeled itself for a return of the feckless manner,
That showed no future.

Slowly he began to take what he could get,
Sex, money, tobacco and wine.
Gently at first, then with quick-witted intellectual justification.
Acquaintances changed in their appearance before his very eyes and concern no longer figured,
Before gratification.
Their mental health or his own was no worry.
Today, today, today,
The world kicked him until he was down,
He got up and just looked the other way.

 

[Withnail]

A Forum Villanelle

The forum fields a voice for Stafford folk,
They find it in whatever way they may.
We find a way to say what should be spoke.

At times it can from forumites evoke
A Stafford that has seemed to pass away.
Yet the forum fields a voice for Stafford folk

Who can rejoinder, at a stroke,
How what was, once, is with us still today,
And voice it in a way that should be spoke.

Sometimes, it seems, some folk can take a joke
Too far, derailing de rigueur some folk may say,
Yet still it fields a voice for Stafford folk.

Those finding it may feel they’ve been awoke,
To find a field in which they love to play -
Awake to say what they would like be spoke

About our town – the town we love today
As much as we have loved it any other day.
This forum fields a voice for Stafford folk
To say and say (and say) what should be spoke.

 

[poetsbumcheeks]

I like that.

 

[poetsbumcheeks]

Just Another F**Ked Up Kid

No love,
Scream and shout and bawl.
No words to find,
The pen just scrawls.

Mummy ignored,
The cries out for attention.
Granny liked kiddie porn,
And little boys erections.

Take away his family,
Take away the risk.
Move him from his home,
To the government list.

Try to meet his needs,
He'll try to cut your throat.
Professional help,
Like mirrors and smoke.

Boy needs love,
Not analysis and talk.
Boy needs to feel the pain,
He hides in his walk.

Only twelve years old,
No-one understands.
Tries to take control,
With threatening demands.

Whose got the patience,
Who is tough enough?
Who would ruin their life,
To take a chance with luck?

So he joins the system,
And people really try.
But his life remains a mystery,
The solution just a lie.

 

[basil]

Oh dearest Flo

I love you so

Especially in your nightie

When the moonlight flits

Across your tits

Oh jesus christ almighty.........