interpellation
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Did you eye it, or did you leg it?
And was it legit, when you elbowed in
You may shoulder the blame
I can't believe you have the gall
To look at me at all
Not with all that spleen of shame
And why did you knee him in the balls
I'm sure it took some of them
Could you not have used your loaf
And headed him instead
It was me who footed the bill Fred
Was it you who fingered me to the cops
Or Pops, were you top of the tree crops
Missing the missiles, miles from home
Homing in like a pigeon, to the only
Loving garden gnome
Who stands awaiting Satan to turn up with Adam's bone
But yes I said to Saddam, it was like a bullet to the brain
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
I took a photography and cookery night class at the local college. I hadn't done too well in school and had a habit of getting my words mixed up so I was a little worried about the essay writing, but I felt pretty confident on the practical side. So when I read the instruction to now cook the photo in the oven for 50 mins I thought perhaps it could have been a strange request for my end of year roll. On the other hand I was more than willing to dip my baking potato in sodium iodine and to hang it up in a dark room in order to develop it. the results were remarkable, I won the end of year photography prize, apparently my post modern take on potatography went down a storm. Moreover I did exceedingly well in the cookery competition in which I gained third prize for most developed photogenic food category, only pipped to the post by a half baked apple iPhone and a Samsung soufflé.
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
I came unto a dry place
Full of skulls and stone
And in the lines of every face
Were the bones of those I'd known
And it was not as if a trace
Was left which came before
But these are the lines of my disgrace
Inside this bloody war
I held my palms up to the sky
And I did pray for rain
And all upon a lullaby
A butterfly it came
It landed down upon my hand
And unfolded out its wings
And I could see the hand of God
In every beautiful thing
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
insuperable
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Known for other such classics as:
the abominable Mr Toad
Love and Peace in a Jet Wash
Singleton in Miami or Shepton Mallet by the Sea
Firing squad apology
Ship shape and fancy free
If God was a Golden retriever
What does that make me?
Peace in a match box
Reverend on his knee
Will you be my Church he says
And will you marry me?
My luck ran out on 5th street I was cornered in a brawl
The dogs were down and dirty
And I don't mean Interpol
The fireflies so empty
Like flickering
Street lamps
And all about this Harvard Bridge
Rang the sirens of curfew
Push me back in Tinsel town
And wage war on my despair
The colours ramp up the rainbow
Rabies shadows far below
I wish for cutting cloth
And early winds in socks
But surely all I got
Was your gentle elbow
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.