I got a new life
One I don't regret
I want a new life
One where I can forget
That old life
Where the rain always was
wet
Running down the window
of my chances
I'm in a new house
One of hope and life
Living like a church mouse
But away from a roaring wife
Needing a new douse
Of something like a fire
To cleanse me of my misery
and a memory that sours
Take me on board
Take me as I am
I'm in a new hoard
I feel like a new man
Give me overlord
With a brand new plan
I am getting a new life
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Give me back the kingdom
Of the last resort
Out of all life's freedoms
And give me back my sport
To the witching hour where
The cats have power
And I neither need the lava nor
The kind of hurt
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Black to black
In the night of the guard
The world like a sire to the last
Broken on the hill
Of becoming
Salt fire and ash
In the mouth of the south
While the North looks down its nose
At us
And the soggy bottom of a marsh
Swells and swelters and sweats
In the beads of cookie cutter mountains
Beds alight with the embers of love
And grave yards that glow in the dust
Houses that smoulder after the floods
And Kitsch curt right courts exploding in blood
How can you hold onto the one that you love
How can you ask me when it's good enough
If you don't know by now it's a shame
But it's all just throw of the dice in the game
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Snow flakes in heaven
Give me dust in my shirt
And a weight that hurts
A back breaking sign of things to come
And how to run, how to run
I don't want to talk about it any more
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
I went for a walk in the park
On a Sunday morning
On the way back a pigeon flew into a car
It was flapping around on the road
So I picked it up
And lay it next to the hedge on some straw
In its death throes
It opened its mouth
and contorted and looked at the sky
Back home I talked about Harry Potter with a Japanese student
Then a different student was drunk so I cancelled the lesson
I went to church in Shepton Mallet
Talked with Sami a Japanese lady
About the congregation and the drummer
Who had a learning disability
Then a Pigeon flew into the Church in the middle
Of a sermon about storms on the sea of Galleli
And how Jesus calmed the storm
And was a sleep while all the fishermen panicked
And he said quiet
The Vicar pronounced the word loudly as
The pigeon flapped in the rafters
Then came to a stop in the children's cresh
I moved over to catch it and set it free
But it flew up again
The Vicar said
and Jesus said the mind boggles
I felt embarassed at the distraction I had exacerbated
By my attempt at capture
And left the church
I drove to Great Breech wood
In order to find the Sedgmoor volunteers
But was late and couldn't find them
After two hours of wandering
I sat down on New Hill and ate some lunch
I saw an Asian Wasp
Or a murder hornet
Got caught up in some gorse and brambles
Then walked back to the car.
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
It's so emotional
The way you rock the cradle
The way you care for one and all
It's so emotional
It's so disasterous like a fall
Like a grace that's saved but then
you call, put us back in our places
And wipe our brave faces
Oh it's so emotional
The tears of the terror bomb
The tears of space
That cry out the stars in their eyes
And hear from the eves of the changing of race
Into colour blindness and lies
It's all so emotional
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
When the pigeon flew through the hole
When the doors were well open
And the ten Commandments scroll
Had been spoken
When you understand you don't control your life
You'll stop flapping around
In the house of the Lord
Whether you're a pigeon or a mouse
You can neither fly from nor hide from
The word
Let it be, he is here with you
Even the lowliest shrew
Even in the turn of the screw
There is no escape for you
Read from the ten Commandments
Know the beginning and end
Are not different departments
But all tied up like a shoe
Like a pigeon that's trapped
Got lost on the map
But flew
Straight home to you
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.