I've seen the moon
It was looking at you
Like a mirror
Implacable grey-silver
Can't make out if I recognise your face
Old moon, are you looking at me?
Are you the same I remember
When I was younger
Those days in colour
Vivid in my memory
Were you always there watching
Reminding me
Some hint that life can be sad
But old moon face
You turn the Sun's face blue
Your silver face makes me mad
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
People like us
We don't make money
People like us riff-raff
Oh we're the hoi-polloi
we can't mix with the elite
The rich, the real cool cats
People like us have to make do
Let it go, move on down the street
It's only people like us that we meet
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Hoopers ahead, a whole world behind
I'm telling you girl, I feel fine
Shooting fish in the barrel with a wooden leg
I've got miles ahead and left a whole world behind
There ain't no use in worrying today
There's no use scraping the bottom of the barrel
If you want to make an omelette you've gotta break some eggs
Got a million miles ahead and left a whole world behind
I left a whole world behind boys, a whole darn world behind
going to try to build a better world tomorrow
you know it's written on my bed, you can sleep when you're dead
Don't get too hung up on all your sorrow
And even if you steal, beg or borrow
You've still got a million miles ahead, left a whole world behind
And you can build a better world tomorrow
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Hooper road around the bend
Down through the middle and back again
Don’t call for a doctor when what you need is a friend
These kind of things they never end
Up to the corner and about the block
Double barrel shot gun was a shock
When it went off it was half-cocked
Hooper and cooper stood like a rock
Barrels of gun powder, barrels of wine
I’ve had a barrel of laughs and now I feel fine
It’s just a pleasure it was under the pine
When he threw hoop over the line
Barrels of whisky, barrels of port
Barrels of anything, be a good sport
There’s a bottle neck jammed
And a leaky tap to report
Hooper will find time to mend all sorts
Hooper road, hooper bend
Everyone laughs up til the end
The bottom of the barrel
Is always a good friend
So take what you’re given
And let’s make an end.
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Why did we come to the red planet
The red sandstone caves
Where water once flowed down Martian well
And Civilization once braved
Why did we come back here?
To discover the bones
Of the long dead ancestors of Earth
Can it be true that the red once was blue
Can it be that Mars gave us birth?
What was it like, old father old mother?
To be the first life forms in the system
To grow and devour
Then feel the sun's power
When all your dreams went down the cistern
What did you see Martian sister and brother?
Martian cousin and Martian uncle and aunt
Did you remember to love her or did you discover
Love was a seed you couldn't possibly plant?
I wish your trees and streams hadn't died
I wish your rivers and oceans hadn't dried
It must have been good for a time that life
But life can quickly change hue
When the green comes out of the blue
Red, is the colour of war
Was there famine and pestilence that you abhor
Did the horsemen come riding to the count of four
And did Apocalypse beg the question
Or had the Red death never a mention
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Butterflies flicker across the sky
I think to myself is this a good day to die
Storm clouds come roling in, a front is on the rise
Too many people to know, with too many eyes
All about me the rains do fall
Like rocks from heaven off heaven's walls
All around me the young they die
And fallen bodies in the ditches lie
Come back slowly like an Arabian moon
Pulling the tides across sand dunes
No water to drink and none to cry
But you better think quick if this is a good day to die
The last adventure of a crazy loon
The last yuri geller to bend the spoon
There are too many fingers I hold up, too many to see
And the last middle finger you give it to me
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
You've got your black trench coat
Walking around for miles and miles
In and out of bus shelters
Under bridges like down turned smiles
You've got your full length trenchcoat
to keep you from the howling storm
Anywhere you go, your
Black trench coat will keep you warm
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.