Poetry Blogs (2017, identity)
You ain’t one of us!
You don’t speak our language; you don’t accept our rites,
You love going to school, you’re never in fights,
You’re a fanny, a minge, a shame to the blood,
You don’t act or do what a gypsy lad should.
You ain’t one of us!
You love the gorja; you call them your friends,
The bairns of bobbies, where does your loyalty lie in the end?
You want to leave ...
Wednesday 6th March 2019 4:27 pm
What with all the omnishambles of Brexit, I got to thinking about what our national identity really is. When you think about it, we have some pretty bizarre national symbols, but ultimately what does it mean to be British / English, etc? See what you think of this...
Our national dish is curry, true,
Our Saint is George who dragons slew,
From Yorkshire field...
Thursday 18th October 2018 8:54 pm
When I wonder what's wrong
When I think whats going on
A Voice said 'this is what you did
Not much love exists to feed.
Tides will not change the future
Might just believe it, forever
Believed that the eyes I see
Truth in them will set me free.
Taking a huge dose of the drug
Never know what's beneath the rug
Chemical changes inside me
They will not let me be.
Let me be the free bird fl...
Sunday 15th July 2018 6:18 pm
What do have to offer. yourself
internal wisdom beneath the facia of my concious
the untenable barrier that holds the flesh together, but connot be devoured only boiled down
and essence consumed
waste not use it for what it is
extract its power
use the sinew to construct a rope
only useful in parity with what is beneath what is beneath useless witho...
Monday 5th February 2018 7:22 pm
Jellicle Cats with their three names
The I in which no one but "I" would know. A self inscribed name tag collar wrapped 'round in my keyboard cutthroat self inflicted mental recognition.
The Gay One?
The Stupid One?
Pollicle Dogs, with their bark BARK BARKING up and down t...
Saturday 20th January 2018 8:02 pm
I am from the sun, the moon and all that lies between.
I am from the dark, the light and that which isn't seen.
I am from whence the wind blows and home is ever out of reach.
I am from the all lives I've touched and the lessons within.
I am love, I am fear, I am truth, I am sin.
I am where I belong, though I yearn to fit in.
I am mocked, I am scorned and all the persecu...
Monday 15th January 2018 6:19 pm
Life artefacts: the attributes of our world which
make us us. Which forge our understanding of what
and who we are. These artefacts hold power for
us. They resonate, they thrum with our reason to
be. If removed, struck away: we become bereft
of direction and belonging: we lose inner
essence-purpose. Lost in the world’s melange, perhaps
we’ll never again feel that deep mea...
Sunday 3rd December 2017 12:45 am
Swiftly in the breeze,
Greatest tides crash,
Children playing softly in the sand.
Geese flock in arrows and the sky so warm,
I witness the power of sanity,
Yet I recoil from it in unforgettable agony.
The truth is that in this world,
You become what you are,
And you die that way.
I must disagree,
For even if the great moon shining in the sky collapses into the ocean below, t...
Saturday 28th October 2017 7:26 am
Phases. Transitory time patches
Grouped or characterised by a theme.
A shade, a colour, a tangible
And identifiable sameness.
Phase of fashion.
Reflecting an idea.
Perhaps marking self out as distinct.
Separating self from the others.
Friday 11th August 2017 4:53 pm
I breathe in, filling up my lungs with the cold, cold winter air. Hair the colour of ruby floating in the wind, the tears dripping down my face until they too float away. A piece of concrete crumbles away and falls, until I can no longer see it, swallowed up by the shadows, which have come a bit too close for comfort now. Threatening to swallow me too.
Instead I angle my face to the sun. So un...
Saturday 10th June 2017 12:32 am
for ghosts of lovers past
Perfect recipes of want
Abundant beauty falls
shorter than ideal
Hope ever lives in one
who strives for vision
Reality proves tepid
in life-dreams eye
and Isradella cries
Disbelieve the sellers
Saturday 1st April 2017 3:02 am
We were like ‘yin and yang’,
‘Spick and Span’
- Hot pot, big pan -
slick and tanned!
The could we can -
sweet, sweet like marzipan!
The kind of love that makes you FAT,
that attracts the sniff sniffing rats.
- Rap! Trap! Rat! The blind bats! -
But I walked and you ran,
I was kicked like tin-can
then you thought you were tin-man,
cause you forgot your heart ...
Tuesday 21st February 2017 11:28 am
Silence is my greatest virtue
It's very rare that these lips ever make a move
My voice is heard through my poetry.
An awkward introvert
Living alone in my fantasy world
Hiding from the real world.
When I look at old photographs
I think of things I tried to become
And how I failed at each one of them.
In this rusty mirror
I see my true self
And I hate...
Sunday 10th July 2016 5:44 pm
Who am I?
Who are you?
Who are we?
I don't know who I am.
I don't know who you are.
I don't know who we are.
Am I me?
Am I you?
Am I we, us, them?
Too many thoughts whirling in my mind.
Infections of madness consuming me.
I thought I knew who I was.
Thursday 7th April 2016 3:19 pm
I have a large knife in my hand
and I’m not afraid
to skin this mother
to sliver away at the
stiff upper lip of a
banish wrinkles, dents and prickly bits
and behold it
cleansed, stripped, unveiled
If you ask me again
I will plainly chop
the thing in two
while I wonder what I could be
This repast, the fourth of the day
mentally diarised between
broken blinds and...
Thursday 22nd October 2015 7:47 pm
A noun all alone in the white open space is at risk,
if it doesn't know its own definition or purpose.
Without knowing its identity, this noun may search for a verb.
Once it finds this verb, it may begin to become active.
After it is active, it may come to dwell upon passive.
Should this be the case, it may call itself just a subordinate clause.
Still without the sense of cause, ...
Saturday 22nd November 2014 9:23 pm
Painting by Jennifer Davis
Every river longs
To swell memory to ancestor size
And reclaim land that belonged to her
Old Woman River
Running naked in the sun
Carrying waste and toxins
Along with grief for dead things to a sea
Transporting esoteric knowledge
No one had a taste for
Unlike clockwork she forgets nothing
Though she sometimes wishes sh...
Friday 22nd March 2013 5:48 pm
Question 17 on the census form “is left intentionally blank.”
Pull the other one: there was a question there once.
Do you surreptitiously pick your nose
when you think no one is looking?
Do you have trouble sleeping /
get up in the night at all hours,
worrying about things left undone,
or things you did, and shouldn’t have?
Are you happy in your job/ ...
Wednesday 30th March 2011 10:04 am
And I would breathe life
into those lips that once kissed,
colour to the face that smiled,
bathe those sightless eyes with tears,
hydrate the ravaged corners of your mind
And if the drip of all my anguish left you still,
empty shell of all you were, no more
I would care for you in death
just as I cared for you before,
gently thread your hair with tender...
Monday 8th November 2010 11:10 pm
To Hell with it, it's time I ran.
I've let you hold me down for long enough.
If nothing else, these roads know who I am,
and will remind me, as I track their span,
that I'm still strong. Do you define my truth?
The Hell you do. It's time I ran
until my heart forgets the way you slammed
it hard, your words like punches to the gut.
If nothing heals, the...
Wednesday 17th March 2010 8:50 am