So I thought
I'd be sophisticated and buy myself
Some Smart Water
The plastic bottle
seemed more intelligent
and more environmentally friendly
Because it was labelled Smart
And so I thought
I was both helping to save the
Environment
While at the same time
Rehydrating
When in fact, I could have just gone home and turned on the tap
Now that is Smart
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
She was a real chessebel
Ready for the quick bishop
To knight resell
In the virtues of a court of pawns
The jester danced upon the lawns
Of Apricot Sundays
And White frog spawn
That grew in Lily of the Valley pools
And the Lady of the lake rose up
Beknighted by the Chalice cup
The Knight of Vespers sure did sup
Upon the poisoned arrows of Archers
Which lined the City walls
Of the Citadels
But it was the move of the Chessebel
She turned his towers and her rook did sweep
Down upon the city's keep
And Castles fall, and knaves and fools
Balance on the Sword of Damocles
But the Black knights rose and mounted a defence
In the forked tongued attack of a vipers offense
Striking in spikes, and spurs and spines
That daggered the white lady's sunshines
Yet dazzled as she was, she never lost her crown
Only in the balance of what goes up must come down
And sallied forth her armies
To justify her ken
As in the dawn light rallies
The army of brave men
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Do you remember when the fire came ?
The burning bushes, grass tufts in flame
And so long sang the thrushes, the dew berry the same
I remember said the rabbit of the barrow
The fire lighter's shame
We ran scrambled, all the animals
The little snails in their houses succumbed
Somehow said the sparrow, things now
Seem so different, just a passing dream of tragedy
Commented the hedgehog of the hedgerow
Simple like a melody, but a chorus of fiery tongues
Licking and singeing the branches of the oak
The elders and the brambles soon went up in smoke
The fell was swept, the dale dealt a terrible blow
Dancing in the twigs and lifting peat sods
Where we trod with hopping tip toe
The hawks circle above, no meal of mouse or shrew
They were but cremated martyrs on the altar of an autumn dew
Only a little farther the survivors had to trudge into adjacent treelines
Foliage to shelter in and watch the holocaust of barrow down
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Welcome to the Climate change activists ball
Entry requirements:
First you must have previously spent the majority of your working life
Working for either an oil company or
alternatively an airline
From this you must have earnt enough money to
afford a safe and secure home
And a safe and secure pension
Then you need to retire
And then feel guilty enough about
Your nice comfortable home
And the world's poor
And the whole inequality of life
That leaves you in the Haves
and the rest of humanity in the have nots
That you then protest about what got you into that
position in the first place
But about which
You are doing nothing
such as selling your home and giving the proceeds to
Some poor folk
Instead stay strong and secure and wear the mask of Rebellion
Without really living your working life as one
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
By the bed of the river I lie, boys
By the beds of the river I lie
By the bed of the river,
when my soul is all a quiver
By the bed of the river I lie
Oh why has the river run dry, boys?
Why has the river run dry
The mountain was a giver
And the tall pines shiver
Tell me why has the river run dry?
I hold my breath and go under
I hold my breath and then I dive
Down in the river,
when my soul is all a quiver
Down in the river I dive
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Josie George is missing
I read it in the news
I remember beauty
No more black and blues
The sum of life is pretty
It is the thing that lights the fuse
Of Josie George is missing
I heard it in the news
What if I were missing
Would anyone really care
I've been thinking a lot about quitting
But I think I'd miss being there
She once squeezed much stomach
I felt affronted but also thrilled
Why would she do that thing
Fuck I lost the plot I was killed
By my own denial of attraction
From when I was a boy
As if it mattered the compaction
Of a certain quantity of joy
I never pursued my own
Dreams
Was always willing to be somebody's toy
But now Josie George is missing
I know she's dead her life destroyed
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
I don't want to break your heart
but I think
I have to
I am where I start
and where I get to
I don't need a poisoned dart
I have the morning dew
And that is where love departs
And where time is due
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.