Poetry Blog by Wolfgar
The stars smelt of piss as I marvelled at your face,
your statue raised in glory in that elevated place.
The blue plaque and the honours, the vestiges of you
I relieved my celebrations as the desperate often do.
Your memory stained and tarnished, belittled and forgot,
In truth I hope my voiding accelerates the rot.
PS. Lord Nelson was not a slave trader, but did ...
Wednesday 19th September 2018 9:49 am
Devoid of any empathy
they cut down the hanging man
Rejoicing in their righteousness
as only the righteous can
“Be happy and be carefree
be jolly just because”
Then “whoops” came their apocalypse
now they’re miserable like us
You see it isn’t just the magnitude
of events that bring’s you low
It’s the way that we disperse them
and the r...
Wednesday 12th September 2018 9:08 am
were crushed by stamping boots
and blazing horns
drowned magic flutes
They’re raising borders
not one step further
sparks with static
Tuesday 11th September 2018 12:36 am
Onto Lara Beach Levantine waves roll unseen,
and all is quiet now.
Citrus perfume filters through salty air.
Eggs smooth as Sea washed pebbles,
their perfect form in shallow scrapes.
Abandoned to their birth
the tiny creatures are born alone, to crawl back home.
Beyond the shell, beyond the sand filled cup,
their Mother-Sea awaits,
her warm embrace to pull them...
Sunday 9th September 2018 10:40 pm
The sober trees are gnarled and twisted dry
their fruits dropped and devoured,
their knotted fingers claw the coming winter sky
a cumulus is building but cruelly drifts on by.
No longer full in bloom
no longer the apple of a joyful eye,
their fill has spilled too soon
the harvest drained and dry.
They crave and weep like drunks forlorn
with bruised and bat...
Saturday 8th September 2018 1:06 pm
On plinths of oak young shoulders grew,
Swords sheathed in Empire, stolen new
Behind glass now, our plunder shines
what once was theirs
now ever thine
Friday 7th September 2018 8:53 am
If I weren’t I
then I’d just be me
and would miss my I
So here with ink
I’ll make us three
then you’ll be me
I’d have you speak
my words disguised
to obscured eyes
So all might know
that they don’t know
which I we are
or who we show
Thursday 6th September 2018 1:28 am
On the metalled edge of its earth-sunk bow
are the worm stained remnants of this seasons plough
trenches forged by turn on turn
then soaked by rain and basked in burn
While blistered hands that tilled the soil
cocoon to heal in natures oil
and in the lull between each storm
all Gaia’s children shall be born
Monday 3rd September 2018 4:37 pm
Why write of old poets?
Perverts, priests and cannibals.
Swinburne devoured flesh,
girl on girl action,
spoke of things ungodly.
The bookshelf groans with deviants
Why write anything at all?
post the cum tribute and caption it.
Degrade the bitch destroy her!
the red-tops love that vigilante hate.
They crave a life extinguished.
As Charge Sheets ...
Saturday 1st September 2018 11:26 pm