You've finally made into a mediocre indie group

but your struggling to keep in the popular cycle loop

the second single clings on to mtv2

so your manager suggests the last option to do

"lads listen, it's time to come clean

it's tough to make it big with your music business dream

albums sales aren't going well

and it's starting to get hard to tell

if you'll be o...

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‘But a man’

If it were, for only birds to see
Through skies, far and wide
Then would we not want to see
Through birds eyes?

If it were only for the horses to gallop
Distances far and wide
And only our limbs could take us there
Could we take that, in our stride?

If it were for only fish to swim
To cross oceans, rivers and waters full
And to sink to their depths of ...

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There’s something about April -
  the way she wears her clothes:
    loosely fit. One button more
      and September is exposed.
        The veil removed, her flesh reveals
          December’s naked trees;
             Springtime lurks behind the bark
               and drags me to my knees.
 
               I kneel upon her dewy cloak
            And make her moss my bed;
...

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                                                 BRITISH SECRET HISTORY

                        Nineteen seventy-seven,

A competition for kids on housing estates,

Beaten and battered

Singing God Save the Queen –

And lo behold – pain from the sixties crowd,

If flags are not waved for her Majesty’s Reign.

            Beaten and battered and soon to be...

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I notice my champagne flute has a chip –

trust me to pick the only one.

But then

what can you expect from Oxfam?

Just yesterday I thought

“Stuff the royal wedding!

What do I care?

Shall I become a media-manipulated pawn?

Vive la revolution!”

Yet here I am today,

defiant with my bottle of champagne

and M&S Chinese takeaway.

While...

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He walks through the day to night,

a celestial seismograph under his heart,

buck toothed, taken from the mother by force;

a palm stroke, affiliated.

Carp-tongued, summer stilted, starched

with collar book marked chin,

he is not amphibian –

spreading legs, to grow with groans, a form meandering,  sucking air through ripples,

he, being taken from the h...

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A boss so tight you just wouldn’t believe,

She takes bank holidays from our annual leave.

Now this year there’s an extra public holiday

For the Royal Wedding, hip-hip-hooray!

Except we have to work so it’s not for us.

Any wonder we feel like making a fuss?

Surrounding businesses will all be closed,

So we’re just opening to count our toes!

The reason she gav...

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(back inside again)

There’s a bloke goes down our pub called John the Hat

Who’s always worth 10 minutes for a chat

Just mention what it is you need –

Wine from Spain, beer from Leeds

Christian Dior, GHDs

He’ll get ‘em, John the Hat.

The Champagne that you sold me was dead flat

With whooshes of weak tea and piss of gnat

It always left me full of ga...

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I fell asleep one dry spring afternoon
And when I woke, I couldn’t place the mornings events
Were they dreamed, were they yesterday
Where do they fit in my reality?

I sat dozing on a train between cities
Caught a flashing glimpse in the oscillating scenery
It was with me with saucer eyes, from another time
A memory that I couldn’t place

Could there have been another world ...

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This is a poem written by Hilary Walker (pictured). It is here in English and a French translation,  the result of work between Hilary and French poets at Write Out Loud's Bordeaux poetry event in 2006.

You are welcome to comment on HIlary's poem and/or to offer suggestions for its translation.

Ecrit par Hilary Walker et traduit par elle et des poètes Francais en 2006. Vous êtes invités...

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Adrienne is my Goddess true.

Just gets on Minerva.

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 The lid is fast,

grimed with dust and age

polish and grease.

If I could open it,

Hope would fly free,

in an exhaled sigh of moths and grit.

It would catch the throat with incense.

Beeswax breath.

So I content myself with tracing round the carvings,

place my fingers where the brailled blind once did

sit with itchy legs on cut moquette

swing them

d...

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I'm playing Mendres, the identity of the devil and lead antagonist in an upcoming British film called Dark Domain.

I wrote this piece as a spoken word/metal fusion piece for the project.

_____________
 

Some say the pen is mightier than the sword,

But they all fear the might of my demonic horde.

I'm Mendres, I'm the devil incarnate,

I use the Dark Domain and I seal y...

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The dark attacks

Like music or tumours

Shedding the definite of light,

The very essence of it.

Only the lonely

Deserve the service

Of certain thoughts.

But a sudden

Cruel mood moves in.

The singularity where

No thought escapes

But one which lasts for seconds.

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Read more …

is it a sin

when a man wants in

the place he came out

with a cry out loud

a new life to begin ?

©Larisa Rzhepishevska

April 25th, 20011

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Age 13

In the land beyond the sunset lives a maid,

A wondrous maid.

Behind the salmon-streaked horizon

Hides she her perfect form of alabaster white.

In her eyes are the first stars of dusk,

In her glowing hair the sun’s last golden ray,

Bright golden ray.

Her flaming tresses filter through the clouds

That nestle round her milk-white breast.

With...

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You’ve gone again

but then I always knew you would

blown away by emptiness

the hollow rattle of it all

the words that never said enough

or never said at all

but fed upon themselves instead

now hope has gone the way that all things go

sunny side down

yolk hardened

like the setting sun

and yet for me

you left your mark

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Thank you for dying

so dramatically and suddenly.

Our archaeologists and tourists

appreciate it, appreciate

your frescoes and fountains,

brothels and bakeries,

your eerie, grey corpses.

Even Pink Floyd are grateful.

Your emperor was no help.

If here, he too

would be a doom-faced corpse

as you are now.

Corpse-town Pompeii,

Vulcan's pla...

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Hang on a moment.

Did I say sonnet? Sorry,

I meant a haiku.

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woodworms came calling,
left a cruel mark on me.
thoughts tumble fast now
through holes i don't see.
woodpeckers woodpeckers
you're just the same,
picking and pecking
at all but my name

chase the bunny down
the tunnel,
and a dead end you will find,
a labyrinth in reflection
of my gnarled and rotten mind.

woodworms, oh, woodworms
each hole is a door
you're bor...

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Happily ever...
after love,
after a tongue tied Tuesday morning lie,
and butterscotch remembered
on her breast.
After a simple pirate on Cupid seas,
and powdered snow
on her lip.

Happily ever...
after love,
after a bleached bleak loveless November,
and hollow eyes
on her face.

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i feel so freezing and the winter sun aint compensating, sometimes i feel ive spent my whole life contemplating, i see no changes cos the whole worlds sat debating, its like we're waiting for some sign, while percrastinating, i see the light but i dont feel the warmth, meditating, close my eyes and visualise my pain eminating, manifest a mark of question, investigating, its like the truth just ...

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Monsters ball

Monsters ball
Fun for all
Dance to deceit
With a sinister beat

Or chat with the liars
All of whom conspire
Once you turn your back
Alot of friends you will lack

Or go to the table where roulette is played
Where fake smiles and laughs are put on display
It's where you will learn the meaning aof abduction
Once it has stole you it will lead you to dest...

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Into the carriage

they spill

chuckling too loudly

certificates in hand

bringing with them

all the fun

of the flipchart

kpi's on the flipchart

b's and c's on the flipchart

(that's benefits and concerns to the unenlightened)

expectations on the flipchart

flipping their mind's

sending them into overdrive

conference junkies

hooke...

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At a reading event I was onsatage encouraging participation

08.04.11 - 21) Come up and sign

Put your name on the line

Read your poem if you like

At the Ruta Maya open mic

Compared to the sword, the pen is mighty

This one’s from dear old Blighty

Flew with me all the way

To Austin from the UK

An English pen there could be none finer

But it probably says “made in ...

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After many a summer time must have a stop:

an emptied stage and canopy hung starless.

Aldous Huxley's dying, Kennedy's been shot

and all the western world is watching Dallas.

He tells his wife to tip the boy some dollars

for the oxygen tanks; though his days are spent,

there's an infinite succession of tomorrows

Huxley is attempting to circumvent.

A w...

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Graffiti under a bridge: a cock; kev luvs liz.

Bodies half developed, tufts of pubic hair,

and they need to check if their penis is still there.

A fast food job to top up their EMA.

Getting away with as little as they can,

taking the fight, on the streets, to the man.

A cap on a head, not worn backwards anymore,

an ASBO sewn violently on a sleeve

...

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Full recording of 'proboscis' and other bunfly sounds available at 

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Bunfly/280018121939

Soft crumpled wings of 

Little chamois leather 

Crash the light

Storming brave the shifts of wind
under the weather where you live
under the thunder
where you breathe a little quieter
than us
but get caught tasti...

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Involuntary musical imagery is invading the space in my brain

On compulsive repeat, musical memes are putting my head under strain

Earworm is humming the tune of the day - it’s a song from an old TV show

Not something I’ve heard for about 30 years, it’s the start of Hawaii Five-O

In times of high stress, the most pestering chorus is destined to play on re...

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 Persecuting Pensioners plc

Persecuting Pensioners plc:

Our unofficial name, you see –

For actually we find it fun

To persecute most everyone –

But pensioners are best of all:

They think that we must know it all –

Whereas many a younger client might

Retaliate, put up a fight.

So many ways to persecute

Those old folk, and increase our loot

...

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Just a note to all that may be interested that I have changed the venue for The Poetry Train open mic event in Wolverhampton. It will now be held at the Britannia Hotel in Lichfield St Wolverhampton on the last Wednesday of each month. for more info please go to the gig guide. Thanks.

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Read more …

tell me about when the stars coalesced

all the anxiety you’re keeping suppressed

the very first time you went and confessed

why your ex-partners are all so obsessed

tell me about the existence of souls

all your perfect plans but unfulfilled goals

analyse why goats don’t get on with trolls

and why Doc Marten’s are better than Scholl’s

tell me about all...

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The first ever Worcestershire Literary Festival : the aim and mission is to raise awareness of the written word, literature and the spoken word in all forms and genres and to provide a fun and educational programme of events that are accessible for all.

Tickets will shortly be available at: http://www.worcslitfest.com/shop-tickets/

.

The Haiku Walk:
Nature As Inspiration

h...

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Library

Liberate the library

This is a book sanctuary – preserve it

A secular chapel where prayers are answered

Or held tight to, deep found meaning.

This is the repository of an everyman ‘reformation’

A democratisation of the enlightenment

Of the mind

Where meritocracy showed its first face

Dismantling of such freedom of information

Is nothing othe...

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The first sight of red and black

shiny jewel upon leaf and blade.

First buds that promise pastures greener,

an unthreatening breeze that blows gentler.

Coats are lighter colours brighter,

abrasive breaths no longer shocking,

replaced with a pleasant cleansing inhalation.

A heightened sense of promise is delivered,

as birdsong no longer du...

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Fountain of love; spread your dewdrops on me

With this never ending joyful cherry

Transcend, higher than all possibilities

Embrace happiness under your magical wiry,

Ignite hearts that once were achy

Reach with your colorful threads, the worry

Let the butterflies giggle in their bellies

Creating resounding echo through bodies,

Boasting around, while s...

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You unwind,

from my eyes,

a flare of innocence

magnesium raw

my tainted bitter roots

grip, twist and tighten

to save myself,

I cause pain

I do not feel it.

lying now in a frame

of solitude,

light muted by curtains,

still in my absolution.

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claustrophobic cloak of night

envelops all remaining will

and saps the light once held within

I lie confined in silence, still.

straddles, pins my arms, my chest

chill gives way to glazing sweat

3am cocooned alone

no sign of dawning freedom yet.

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A vegetable in Borneo

runs a guest house

by a tree.

The furry bat

reclines in that

fine veggie's pitcher

green.

Between dreaming

in this fine repose

he does some poo and pee.

His kindly host

has justly earned

this very special fee.

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They say : It's a lovely day,

But I don't need it anyway.

I'm dreaming and waiting for a night

So I can go again and excite

My panic inside those corridors 

Where dark and cold hold doors.

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Breakfast is moving to Salford. 

The giant polar bear will melt

in about five days.  The landlord

has a firm, settled intention:

by night he dons all the sequins

and feathers, trawling hotspots,

on patrol. No deposit, ever. 

What early trauma ...? Emergency lights:

cowering under a stool in the kitchen. 

(Actona Dodgem Bar Stool on chrome base). 

Did she ...

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The Write Out Loud little Big weekend is over, and on the final day for those who lingered, there was Renga. each one of the remaining poets contributed to this one and, there should be several more being posted over the next few days. Have a squint at the photos in Galleries to see up to what we got.

They don't always have to scan, do they?

Two hours to Chorley

And the weathe...

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