Poetry Blog by Mr LEON STOLGARD

to you stranger

offerings of respect

and hope

that the unexplored

between you and I

can bloom

into revelations

and take us

beyond all familiarities 


by shadow curtains

of stale somnolence

hanging in the windows

of ancient rooms


with items

of wearied routine



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swimming with loan sharks

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from the black market sea's they come

to encircle the island sanctuary you call home

you thinking all things are comfortably above

the water line of misfortune

-oh yeah?

but have you prepared for the tsunamis of emergency?

when you might have no other discredited choice

than to allow the teeth of these payday substituting predators

to sink into and bleed you monetarily dry...

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something less glorious than mud-mud-glorious mud!

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shit shit stinking brown shit

needs daily emittance from your rear split

you must flushit' and dump it

out of your fart trumpet

then sewage farms pump it

to keep our veg fields fertilized fit


with our poo-poo

thats what they do

I used to eat salds until I knew

now I desist of them consuming

the thought leaves me 'fuming'

that  someone is subsidiarily g...

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unannounced bursting

from a high mouth

of fountainous red words

spat out with a thunderous voice

rushing skywards from great depths


to be unstoppably heard

to be unstoppably destructive


once released

erases all its molten embrace touches


before cooling into a black crusted wasteland

left behind

for nothing but the lonely gritted wind

to deciphe...

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as though there isn't enough shite in our oceans!!

why oh fucking why oh fucking why

were Ian Bradys ashes allowed to hellishly darken

the beauty of our seas 

instead of being returned from whence they came

in demonic form-

back to the fucking rubbish tip!


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admiring ex prisoners of loneliness

I am always more than willing

to honour

enforced solitudes courageous escapees 

who without fault of their own

had been exiled


those featureless landscapes

where  suffering awaits no end

where there are no roads to light

only dark directions to increasing sorrow

belonging outside hope


YES! honour them!


that they have fought tooth and nail

to have...

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from a distance




I am not jealous in any way of the embattled elderly



their youth abandoned faces 

perfectly neglected targets

for the death sharpening axe edge of the wind.


But I am jealous of


the fun greedy laughing eyes

of kids that

love greeting everything

dirt decorated-

-old car tyres, muddied dogs, filthy footballs,

river bank swings a...

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toils ending


in those last fearsome unlinking moments of you from life  

what did we

standing around your bed

from where and when

we were made to understand your soul would soon be departing,

seem to look like?

was it as fleeting shadowy figures do in a dream?


were our grief subdued hushed voices

comforting and soft enough

to help prepare you for the journey you had long be...

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you're ugly because you're ugly

end of story!

no! it's not a trick of the light or

your parents fault.

Go see if a beautician can perform a miracle on you.

Have a face transplant

smash all the mirrors in your house 

do something!

Oh,lot's of people are ugly so get over it

be thankful for at least being alive (even if you are scary!)

Maybe take up a monastic life of so...

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3 card

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cellophaned pack

face down on the green baize

waiting to be shuffled

then dealt


each bragger to be picks up a hand.

Someone ever so quietly hums

a sign of confidence a trick of the trade.


An air of cool confrontation

rides the rooms groundswell

sweating must be subdued

as the money pot swells in the centre


each luck pushing player

keeps pushing un...

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The Bruce

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so when it came time

for you and yours

to retreat from the battlefields of

Methven,Darly,Strath Fillan

and temporarily hang up your battle axe


it was off to a cave's dank interior with you

where,with only an inspirational spider weaving at the entrance

for company

you lay observing its progress


its attempts to build and fail

its attempts to build and fail ag...

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here in this stunning wilderness

adventuring for the sake of health and experience

the guide takes me lakewards through the pines indian fashion

eyes to the ground ears to the wind

the first for bear poop the second for bear noise.

Trail end.

Plenty of pocket worthy pebbles and shells lie about on this shore

where the lapping waters repeatedly voice their age old marriage pro...

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accelerating down a one-way


alternatives for the word happiness

forcibly invented by throw away people

drowning in a sea of materialism

who have long ago discarded the names of love and fellowship.

Their addictions continue to play up for more and more playthings,

Where did indisposable life go?

when did the old breed

stop leaving their...

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almost at the mercy of

on the spray thrashing wild sea

thoughts and waves reshaping

praying for horizons to sculpt evidence

of rocky giants geologically marching

in the slowest of all motions

bathing their craggy feet

in the shallows we seek

where thanks can be given

and breaths recaptured

while watching the defeated tide going home 

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Jagger's gobhorn

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between each sung line

the most contagious and widest of smiles

which,whether he meant it to or not

for me at least,outshone

the whole nights brilliance


and just before I was about to head off

and the gig finished

the vocalist indulged himself with a set up cue

upon which the stoney faced drummer was to pass him

not what the non musical would call a mouth ...

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free wood-it reads

labelled on large boxes outside 'Johnsons Timber'

there as a result of the usual procedure following the circular saw operation

for recycling purposes by others

thereby saving himself from his own accusations of waste


I remember seeing the sawdust eyebrowed Mr Johnson

face mask propped on his thin haired head like a little party hat

a neccessity I my pa...

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we came

but not just to see

but worship!

and we did as he performed his six string miracles

layings of his blessings upon us of unreserved unrestricted sounds

delivered to our ears with love and sincerity

sent not from a man,a king,but from a living god!

high and mightily so above all other guitar gods.


Looking every inch the note bending genius that he was


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M.F. force to be reckoned with











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purchasing gratification

of most everyday thingymabobs and doodahs

my knowledge is  reasonably secure.


I can relax a little

and concentrate on the new up and coming


my capabilities

surround lithe young solutions


surgical tools for the wounds of queuing disreparations 

begging for life saving stitches.


But I must get my new houses in order

priorities need reshuffling



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wintering irredeemabilities

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for miniscule intervening candles

illuminating compassionate windows

within long bouts of being somewhere uknown

he is thankful. 


The rare times he can laugh when recognising himself

are between the ultimate of mists

while the original fixtures of who he was in better days

are sadly retained.


A picnic.

A bicycle ride.

A family garthering

even these recoll...

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one of those dark days

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that morning


I felt almost non-existent

as though my conscious silhouette

was being blacked out

erased by swirling thought shadowings

clouding the beauty of my mind

feeling I had stepped into

everlasting night

never to be found again

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a discussion below

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'how many'

the Devil asked his soul forking assistant

'have you eaten

while I've been away influencing the minds

of the laughably called leaders of the world?'

(the body count being much lower

than the usual pile and him noticing black blood

dripping off a certain servantile vile chin)

'Master' replied the cowering low ranked beast 'I thought you would have been pleased,


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what is that peripheral something?

I feel the long distance gaze of its unknown presence

attempting to trespass

walk in and sit in the lap of my mind

as if needing to make its mark on my thoughts.

No,I don't feel it is trying to carry out autopsies or apply criticisms

but it does suggest a belonging of sorts.


Won't even leave off picking at the locks of sleep

enters there derailing the fantasies I need 


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piercing at soul level grew fertilised by failure.

After nothing years

the words "THE STRUGGLE IS OVER" in large gold letters

delivered to the doorstep of my battles end

that I keep as heart close as I do

with the supports of those who wished me well.

No sooner recovered 

I press on  waking the ghost of progress up

before the dust and cobwebs of the past could set...

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followers of the flautist

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Imagine a modern day pied piper

looking for a pop tune to play

that will bewitch the children of the world

into leaving their parents forever.


In other words

he is searching for the elixir

at the heart of adolescence

that fuels the kids desire to run away from home

and make a name for themselves.


Imagine the flute of the player.

it shines.It is silver.Its mu...

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through young ears

into young souls

in equal parts

of wonder and wanting

early sounds of hepcat music

being thrashed out

on a basic combination

of catgut,brush poles

and old tea chests

filling the coffee aromatically aired

fifties cafes

changing the folds of brows

and hairstyles

in the following of it

with rebellious teenaged attention.

Long ago crazy b...

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Rain-like sprinklings.

A barely heard disturbance

in an otherwise moonlit nights

big silence.

Tiny roulades

falling from resting oars

of a little shorebound boat

carried along

on a shushing slivery faced tide. 

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switch flicking

touch and go

your glow


keeps trying

to become

a shadow

an off and off thing

affecting my direction


changing visibilty invisible

one minute



blacking everything out.

The strong current

of my desires

for you

are gradually

being turned off.


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I mean to smash to pieces all those false bottled dreams

that I've poured into too many inebriating glasses it so sadly  seems

and pick out the truth's from among their now shattered unwanted lies

and piece together with them at last,a life I intend to be filled with all things wise.  

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Rising on a Summers day

When warmth becomes too much

they stir

throwing back the floral folds.

The mornings encouraging sun shoots quickens them

to their feet


excercise appreciations of existence.  

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Vic&Dave alikes

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She the image

of skin and boney Victoria

not one mirror would disagree.

The same kind of piggy nose

on the same kind of elfish face.

Hair black colour copied

posh spice girls eyes almost her own


a fairly believable David

lean stripling of a fair haired man

easily capable of passing 

for the squeaky mouse voiced ex M.U. player

especially when he bends a b...

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not according to the rules

during my younger years in hell

I never recognized 

that I was the ugliest minded

possibly most mistaken man in the world

and never until now

apologized for it.


In my inglorious days of disarray

I worked demonically hard

to earn my sins.

A fuck monster

drink and drug drowned

on a daily basis


thinking if I wanted to

I could piss on the sun

and p...

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