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Cry we all toward places unnamed

Rise above the crested hills

Yell we will - shattering door frames

Plundering thoughts of plovered wills

Tear at the wallpaper - reveal the grain

Ink the slate - etched by wound-dipped quills

Crouch, prowl - ready to pounce on game

Brandishing swords, blaring trumpets shrill

Arching backs, phosphorescent wicks ...

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This is about those dodgy pubs you often get. The one's where you walk in and everyone drinking turns to look at you. The Jukebox cuts off and a curchbell tolls in the distance. You quickly get a drink and find a booth. You soon come to realise that some of the hardest men in town are in that pub. Maybe you can relate? It's a bit long but just bare with it and tell me what you think.........

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 Hope you enjoy it!

http://raymondantrobus.bandcamp.com/album/raymond-antrobus-spoken-word

Ray. x

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It is something that I have been doing now for the best part of 2 years.

At least twice a month an envelope arrives on my doormat addressed to my pseudonym. Right at the moment I see the envelope I find more and more I am breathing a huge sigh (although not of relief). Contained within the unassuming brown packaging could be anything. Of late the contents of these envelopes has tended...

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He lights his cigarette, I prepare to share it,

just so his lungs could see less tar. 

He’s in a reflective mood; I can tell by the way
the flame emerged from his lighter
red and tenderly squirmed like a worm in a furnace.

He holds my gaze as the flame faints back in its tank
drags on the cigarette, slowly tilts his head back. 

I ever tell you the story about the mang...

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Gigging this week at

RAW GEMS (30 mins) Zenith Bar, London

BEAT, Peter Parkers Bar Soho, London

Rich Mix with Apples & Snakes & Featuring with  TV Smith at the Poetry Cafe, London

Get in touch if you're in town.

I'll do the poem in the audio attachment here as well as my current 'hit' as here:

Boy Toy

I’m happy to be your plaything

A am your sex toy

It ...

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