Poetry Blog by Wolfgar (2017)

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False start

 

Christmas, a burst of joy like a 100 meters mens Olympic final

the annual false start for peace

 

an explosion of energy for the excitement of all

when the lines crossed its magic ceased

 

Christmas, is like putting a mask on a mask 

would it not be better stripped down than dressed

 

in this noisy world of limited plenty

where the blessed bestow the blessed 

...

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Silent nights

 

In the garden under stars

me and dad

a long year and here we are 

alone together

 

In the compound under lights

me and Mo

his mates and mine gone

alone together

 

In the surgery 

me and Pete

his diagnosis evolving

alone together

 

In the study

me and Jim online

reminiscing, planning weddings

alone together

 

Under this canopy

me a...

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ChristmasComradeshipFamilyFreindshipLove

At Blankenese

 

Knotted pathways

tumble down to Elbe’s banks, 

passing Sea-Captains houses

they thread through ages,

 

history preserved by salty air

friend and foe have sailed this course,

steamers, containers and ferrymen,

even mop haired musicians came and went.

 

The Strand Hotel welcomes walkers

hot chocolate and rum to go,

well heeled ladies take time to talk

whil...

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BlankeneseCommerzeWealth

When darkness falls

 

Between those trying to kill them

and them fucking everything in a skirt, 

between their children being born in war zones

in houses rotten with damp,

 

between no holidays and losing comrades

between whores and booze and violence,

between deadly postings and loss of faith

between the charade of normality and lies,

 

they loved, 

they gave, 

they redeemed th...

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those beyond help

Not televised

 

will not be televised

will not be televised

will not be televised

 

you will not be led

you will not be encouraged

you will not be educated

 

you will not be nurtured

you will not be spoon fed

you will not be granted access

 

you must think for yourself

you must fight for yourself

you must kill for yourself

 

you will not be defended

you will...

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How many Christmas trees

 

Eight cars

big gates

six doors

 

deliveries

livestock

and yours

 

staff and visitors

contractors

and those to be ignored

 

unrooted trees

ripped from soil

their bulbs of borrowed light

 

give praise to the new born

and the commoners toil

affording their still silent night 

 

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Dead Man

 

 

(Dialogue kicks in after first few bars)

 

Through a tunnel carved in dead mens bones

the living went to hell

the stoker fed the flaming mouth

as the hammer struck its knell

 

The landscape flattened beneath the plain

its rivers turned to dust

strange tepees ripped ragged by blackened rain

sit fragile on the crust

 

Passengers cling to souls long sold

...

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Dead ManJim JarmuschNeil YoungStuff

Hallucinogens and Conversions (how junkies find god)

 

He chased it down the mirrored hall

his own reflection on the wall

then into aether the two did fall

like they were never there at all

 

They drifted for what seemed an age

in laudanum’s self indulgent cage

from the horrors of a shared reality

came one singular duality

 

Then sober in some new-found reunion

they set out fresh upon the land

enriched by some ...

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Limp Biscuit

 

I was the custard in your biscuit

the dodgy bit in jam

the currant in garibaldi

I was your undigested man

 

You took me from my shiny tin

and rubbed me into crumbs

I was the one that you let in

the hard bake that succumbed

 

Dunked within your poisoned drench

you made my crunch un-stiffen

I supped until my thirst was quenched

struck dumb too drunk to lis...

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Death Message

 

He hadn’t been ill in the clinical sense

but he had destroyed his soul in search of it

 

He had chased it across deserts and

through

            Labyrinthine

                               Streets

through whore house windows

                                                 with no socks on his feet

 

The Policeman who found his wrung out corpse

rifled his pock...

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Between Bells

 

The pale Sun clambers up St Andrews steeple

for a moment it trembles like a spinning plate

 

appealing bells ring out its rise

as the pagan sphere ascends through immaculate skies

 

dog walkers desecrate the sacred stones

their canine companions water old bones

 

the ancestors wetted they wander off home

while the bell ringer ponders the silence alone 

 

In...

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