And she was there also beyond
The pail
Looking for her chain mail
Armour to wear
Joan of Arc who had
Talked with God
And knew just exactly where
She belonged
And I fell like a beast in the field
Under her sword of the lord
I fell like a sacrificial calf
upon
The altar of circumstance
And so it was done
Like it should have been first
The cut was made
The scar will be worse
But the pain I remember
As if I'd rehearsed
This scene a thousand times
Already
And she saw signs,
I swear she did
In the pines,
On the paths
On the lines of her palms
In the tones of my laugh
Like a detective of the macabre-
Sonata a full evangelical
Angel fire-starter
Saturday, 28 April 2018
The word was on the tip of my tongue
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
So and so
I took the needles from the haystack
And broke the camel!s back
The straw dogs walked in the afternoon
In the land of the midnight sun
And soon
The pale terrapins were playing in the pond
And I saw that it was good
And their flippers shone
And Jeremiah stood
Under the parasol,
Because his song had sung out to sea gulls
And there were no words left
To
carry on
And broke the camel!s back
The straw dogs walked in the afternoon
In the land of the midnight sun
And soon
The pale terrapins were playing in the pond
And I saw that it was good
And their flippers shone
And Jeremiah stood
Under the parasol,
Because his song had sung out to sea gulls
And there were no words left
To
carry on
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Early Birds
You have to be an early cat
To catch the early bird
The gold falls from the sky
I can't catch it
The morning is golden
So is your memory
But you gave away your gold
You little canary
It is flown like the sky lark
The pirates have smuggled it
Now they've taken you to their island
Where you will lie with them
Their giant cat claws have lain on your breast
Where your heart beats fast
With the bold and the best
But bird kind cannot manage another like you
So they leave you to the pirates
And their drunken cat curfew
It takes an early bird to catch a worm
And it takes a bin full of promises
Before I can learn
That the ring that I gave you
Was yours to burn
And the Gold that you gave me
Was never mine in turn
To catch the early bird
The gold falls from the sky
I can't catch it
The morning is golden
So is your memory
But you gave away your gold
You little canary
It is flown like the sky lark
The pirates have smuggled it
Now they've taken you to their island
Where you will lie with them
Their giant cat claws have lain on your breast
Where your heart beats fast
With the bold and the best
But bird kind cannot manage another like you
So they leave you to the pirates
And their drunken cat curfew
It takes an early bird to catch a worm
And it takes a bin full of promises
Before I can learn
That the ring that I gave you
Was yours to burn
And the Gold that you gave me
Was never mine in turn
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Friday, 27 April 2018
To be continued
A large
part of diversifying accrued agreement rests solely on the shoulders of giants.
It is not that giant’s shoulders are literally any more satisfying to rest on
than an ordinary man or woman’s shoulders – Giants can be the most quarrelsome
and loathsome of creatures, whose habit it is to eat farm yard animals and
anyone smaller than themselves – no the real advantage is their broad
shoulderlieness. I say this as one who knows
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Thursday, 26 April 2018
Do you like Techno?
When you
finally realize
You've been
talking to a white supremacist
And they
call you a woman just to mask their cowardice
And they
tell you its alright its not the tone
Of the skin
Its the
ideology they have a problem with
Not the
race thing
You realize
they are a racist
A nutter, a
fraud
That they
are this brand of "English abroad"
Who think
they have the right
To say what
they like
because
they live in
A country
that is free from wrong or right
That they
are just saying what everyone feels
That they
have the upper hand on the
Unconscious
subs meals
That they
should be valued
Along with
the rest
That they
are the victims
Of all this
unrest
That
Muslims and Jews are a scourge on the land
And if they
had their way they would wipe their hands
With all
the unclean
The un-pure
bred
Well just
point out
They have
something missing from inside their head
They have
missed that they are the cowards
They think
they are warriors
But they
are brow beaten, brown-nosers
They are
small little fish
Flailing in
the mud
Their time
is up
Their
oxygen is sucked
They have
little left to sustain a
dying life
They are
ancient remnants
They must
be consigned
To the
rubbish bin of life
And if
anyone asks you do you
Like techno?
Just
respond firmly
No I do not
And walk
away from the party because
It is shit
And they
all need their heads examined
For dancing
to it
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Monday, 23 April 2018
out-foxed
a fox kept in a box
Is like to get the pox
But a fox without her socks
May tread on sharp jagged rocks
So, think outside the box
but inside the fox
Then a thought that can cause shocks
Will be more like one that unlocks
Is like to get the pox
But a fox without her socks
May tread on sharp jagged rocks
So, think outside the box
but inside the fox
Then a thought that can cause shocks
Will be more like one that unlocks
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Unfortunately I seem to have
Unfortunately I seem to have lost my socks
They have run down the drain
They have been swallowed by the vain rain
That falls on all these dry rocks
Unfortunately I seem to have lost my slippers
They seem to have been collected by the bin men
Who have taken them and rolled them in bitumen
For not they are rolled out like kippers
Unfortunately I seem to have lost my braces
They have been over run by snails
I left them in the garden next to the rails
And evidently the snails used them for their races
Unfortunately I seem to have lost my sense of timing
I do not know who took it maybe the raven
He took it on the wing when I was craven
And now I am braver, but the bell is chiming
They have run down the drain
They have been swallowed by the vain rain
That falls on all these dry rocks
Unfortunately I seem to have lost my slippers
They seem to have been collected by the bin men
Who have taken them and rolled them in bitumen
For not they are rolled out like kippers
Unfortunately I seem to have lost my braces
They have been over run by snails
I left them in the garden next to the rails
And evidently the snails used them for their races
Unfortunately I seem to have lost my sense of timing
I do not know who took it maybe the raven
He took it on the wing when I was craven
And now I am braver, but the bell is chiming
Labels:
time
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
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