Poetry Blog by John G.Hall
Janet on Blue Angel (Tue, 4 Aug 2009 11:41 am)
Janet on The Blue Haired Girl & The Smooth Coated Tiger (Tue, 4 Aug 2009 11:31 am)
Pete Crompton on Taste of Human (Sat, 15 Nov 2008 12:26 pm)
darren thomas on Nature kills baby (a poem for All Hallows) (Wed, 29 Oct 2008 09:54 am)
You are carefully unfolded out from yourself
the blue haired girl with a sparkler for a tongue,
you are sprawled out beneath the full moon
the smooth coated Tiger with a roaring voice.
These are merely the two sides of the blue you
opened before me, but my magic is too weak
my skin too precious, I must close you up and
practice harder poetry, before I...
Monday 3rd August 2009 5:46 pm
Bleeding whooping surfers shoot the blue tubes
towards the world, where fluffy dice chromosomes
throw the saints five and the killers two.The crash
of falling skin is whaled from birth and filled with bone.
Septembers heat turned to boil, baby being cooked
in life-blood.This time there is no luck needed, only you.
*for an Irish Mother
Monday 3rd August 2009 5:43 pm
her undeclared war raged under
her hundred thousand battle scars
making her peace a guilty place
her million guns back fired all at once her love murdered
by the magic bullets of sacred money his heart discounted
by a capitalist roulette wheel spinning through his blood
she is so powerful she shakes like a steam engine
inside the mutating gene of a tiger moth’s antenna
her double helix strands...
Monday 3rd August 2009 5:40 pm
our quick spending
of muscle definition
and emotional IQ
never prepares us
for the exit strategy
of the particular
of human life time,
the crash of days
leaves us wreckage
by the soul side,
open books dog eared,
spines cracked , torn
sleeves spilling our
but still we rubber neck
and note pains eviden...
Saturday 9th May 2009 1:17 am
glad to be
they make war
to liberate them
selves from sense,
are fabled in fact.
And head in sand
they learn to grin
and bare horror,
Others find liberation
breaking out of mind,
being species beings,
Tuesday 5th May 2009 7:13 pm
The Covert Poetics Journal in the United States have decided to nominate John G.Hall & S.A. Griffin for a Pushcart Prize.The Pushcart Prize - Best of the Small Presses series, published every year since 1976, is the most honored literary project in America.
Writers previously nominated incude Raymond Carver,Andrei Codrescu,Billy Collins,John Irving,Stephen Dunn,Ha Jin, Philip Levine, Rick Mood...
Monday 1st December 2008 3:35 pm
Eternal Puck from a neon wood, preternatural blue agate eyes,
she speaks with her heart in her mouth, her body is a tuning fork
for her universe of words, mother mouthed, every sound works,
a soft lightening rod for the storm of everyones hard won glory,
her language has its own perfume, of talcum and pink lady apple.
Liquid looks from a dry place, a song bird in the trees of Dachau,
Saturday 29th November 2008 11:40 pm
The child is
the old one
All that is
left to us,
all our days
Friday 14th November 2008 4:28 pm
Some words are placed for audience
the gravestone, the eviction notice.
The competition winning anthology
of prescription, recipe and warning.
Some words are placed for effect
the 'fuck you' tattoo, the Oxfam badge.
The affirmation of self-deluded nihilism
of manifesto, ego and sex less sex.
Some words are placed for safe-keeping
the priests forgiveness, the cops note-book.
The forgotten slip of t...
Wednesday 5th November 2008 12:24 am
my bubble keeps bursting me out
a million mistakes made of hopes,
meaning no harm by breaking bones
tumbling down my heart lands wrong
side up in your sweet marbled arms
Cleopatra's eyes flash looks at mars,
missy Buddha figures out eternity
on the back of one minute of clarity,
weather sweeps through the trees
my monkey hangs on even tighter
down town you sit in all the empty
places reserved for...
Wednesday 5th November 2008 12:11 am
Life's what they made it
I feel like I'm sliding
into the eye of a needle,
walking down market street
naked as a featherless jay bird
realizing life's not what you make it
it's something somebody else made,
out of your hang ups and loose ends
a needle lost in a world of haystack
I feel like I'm swimming towards the egg
a lonely wriggle in the cosmic snake race,
one more forked tongue in Eve's angelic ...
Monday 3rd November 2008 12:30 am
Heart for arts sake.
Demerara sugar bags
in a white sugar bowl,
a free paper napkin pre
folded by unseen hands
glares at me in the sunlight.
Two thirds of a glass
wet lipped with coke
and ice, a books index
of titles pinned open by
a thumb pressed between
pages and a finger placed
on a badly cracked spine.
So now my black writing sits
uncomfortably on ruled lines,
and the sound of jazz
is scratching at my head,
Monday 3rd November 2008 12:28 am
safe lips end this history
above the toaster
a life worthwhile
as any cosmos
pops up ordinary,
while clowns trawled
for sex, rain and snow
fell into the sunset,
I've waited and such
for a surge of sympathy,
it was like juggling apples
on the end of your tongue
or fishing a hover of trout,
it was like falling in love
with too much of yourself or
holding to reactionary hopes,
hands on the worlds butt
feeling the arm...
Monday 3rd November 2008 12:25 am
I am swaggering silently through my own minutia
I am the salt and vinegar queen, the cold chip king
I am the Columbus of the morning madras lands
I am last night's fry-up clinging to the brain pan.
I am the preference of all friendships to fly apart
I am the rattle of a cola can's empty low-cal soul
I am the lonely hangman's ropeless scaffolding
I am tearing up the plan in favour of the gu...
Saturday 1st November 2008 11:00 pm
Sing the song of all
When the biopsy comes back
I can't help but think
where the fuck is Spiderman
when you really need him?
Where is that Buddha boy
when loneliness strangles you
and the street poets sell out
for a hand full of applause?
When the Super Ego comes dancing
beside itself with sweet reflections,
where is the Woody Guthrie man
to sing the blues to our glories?...
Saturday 1st November 2008 10:58 pm
our love wore a silencer
but it still fired a soul,
my baby like
a bullet baby,
then the devil in the detail
pulled apart DNA's angel hair,
as cells unraveled
as the blood tripped,
as birthday candle
turned back to bee,
as bone crumbled chalk
into the mother board,
as the tears grew hard
in the corners of our eyes
I snuggled you in my arms
and you sang me too ...
Tuesday 28th October 2008 2:24 pm