Poetry Blog by Philip Stevens

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Philip Stevens on POW ! POW ! POW ! (Mon, 28 Oct 2019 05:23 pm)

Don Matthews on POW ! POW ! POW ! (Mon, 28 Oct 2019 12:51 pm)

Philip Stevens on Monday Morning sigh (Fri, 25 Oct 2019 10:53 pm)

Philip Stevens on Monday Morning sigh (Fri, 25 Oct 2019 05:14 am)

Don Matthews on Monday Morning sigh (Thu, 24 Oct 2019 11:54 pm)

Philip Stevens on Shouting ! (Tue, 22 Oct 2019 07:40 pm)

Philip Stevens on The domestic critique' (Tue, 22 Oct 2019 07:40 pm)

Philip Stevens on The Jug (Tue, 22 Oct 2019 07:39 pm)

afishamongmany on The domestic critique' (Sun, 20 Oct 2019 06:53 pm)

Don Matthews on Staying in (Sat, 19 Oct 2019 11:11 pm)

POW ! POW ! POW !

Pow ! Pow ! Pow !

I fought my way out of a paper bag

Pow ! Pow ! Pow !

With the strength of thought I never had

Pow ! Pow ! Pow !

Depression has also took the  hit

Pow ! Pow ! Pow !

Never thought I'd get rid of it

Pow ! Pow ! Pow !

I fight my way through the day 

Pow ! Pow ! Pow !

With a smile and a winning way

Pow ! Pow ! Pow !

Not a single  punch or blow 

...

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Monday Morning sigh

Age wears at my brain, Un-synchronised,  imbalanced and faltered 

My withering melon head, rots forgetfulness, as memories dwindle 

Rising gasses seep from the pit of my stomach and through these calcium deficient gaped teeth

Foul stenched morning breath  breaths, turning into a sigh, because its morning, another morning

Showered, dressed and fed, refreshed, with slice of orange, I did...

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The domestic critique'

Start
Your home grown words of babble are no match for this real, reality. They are but clawed, gnarled carvings of your immediate scrolled banality.
Metrical schemes, un-synchronised  with punk'ed, punctuation, frozen stanza's, deconstructed, into emotional  isolation. 
Median 
The means and themes  are a shackled, shackles show, a chaotic sentence of structured syllables, a critiqued wheeze,...

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The Jug

Lights out 

And back to the cell 

In this strellie stenched community 

There's a sense, that all is not well

Chemically coshed with citalopram,  20ml

Black mamber, spice or shit faced

Either way there's a dip in serontine 

That needs to be upped and replaced 

Foreboding with sense of mence

Being housed on this cat C dorm

Eighteen months of crime and punishment 

Of ...

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Staying in

Anxious and tried

Head lowered in shame

I can't face my face

Again and again 

Brooding dark doubt 

Sapped energy am tired 

Confidence is ebbing 

No company desired 

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Shouting !

Its something that never existed !

Mental health problems are just a myth !

Its society that's twisted !

Where all individuals !

We are not the same !

Except when it comes to the conditioning !

Of our human brain !

Who decides what's normal !

In a world of human kind !

They've sectioned me for shouting !

They think I've lost my  mind !

But who are they to judge me ...

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Bar room philosopher

He's a bar room philosopher, a  poet with an empty glass a master of the unpaid laugh,  a true character 

He's got shuffling feet and waving hands,  entertaining as he stands, eyeing up the optics on the corner of the bar

He loves a drink and a smoke, tells his story with a joke

Busking on the streets of town, singing to an unfamiliar crowd, singing all the songs you know, well he strum, ...

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Brotherly shove

You choked the life out of me when I was a young  child

Upset me for a life time as you screamed your heavy burden

You boxed me like a punch bag, beat me with a peace pipe

bullied my confidences to the brink of  its creativity 

But you only hurt yourself 

 

 

 

 

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Mood

I could say it blankets me like a black cloak

But it's more obvious than that

It's written all over my face

Apparent in my behaviour 

Silently curtailing my speech 

Keeping interaction at arms length 

Limiting my conversation to a smile and some pleasantries at best

But I wish you all a good day 

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Write some poetry !!

Write some poetry !!

And let the madness out

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Let the madness out !!

Let the madness out !!

Write some poetry 

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Stuck between a rock and a hard place blues

You whispered something,  i needed you to shout , now it all hangs by a thread, the thread that hangs...  is doubt 

And swirling thoughts stay there, Caught up in my mind, no one will ever know, I carnt bring myself to speak, the words ...I can not find

The essence of this indecision, is neither strong or weak, at least the music's low and the sound of silence sweet 

Hush the mind , time ...

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Transient

I quit my job and home

And off i go to roam 

Thought I was unhappy

But I have the soul of vagabond 

Who goes on walkabout 

Searching for the happiness thats just been  left. 

 

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Unchangeable

Older now but still the same 

Some behaviours never change 

This is me I guess,  unwavering  

Older now but still the same

Some behaviours never change

This is me I guess, temperamental 

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Sense of self

Who the hell am I 

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