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Bubo

Email: bevansback@hotmail.co.uk
Updated: Wed, 19 Dec 2007 12:38 pm

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Biography

Do I have a web site?! Nice to be here, I can be read at http://www.writerscafe.org/Bubo I live in London, had work read at the Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden, and a few pieces published.

Samples

I Am Beowulf I am an adulterous Thieving whore who stole souls That crammed and screamed For attention, A little whisper, or gentle finger Running Inside that mind dying. I am a mother of sorrows Unable to hold precious bundle inside That leaked and ran inside my thigh Draining into earth red Goodbye...................... I I am This woman he speaks Of treachery and deceit Yet he pulls on nothing But his own festering wound Fucking heads of daughters born He sees nothing, but gain to feed His pot of putrid wrath stirring, Not pain or tears that these children fear. I loved loved loved those little ones Denied As I loved each child’s smile held in a photograph, Call me damaged, call me strange I am not this woman you claim, Stripped But for you Perhaps I could spread my legs Take out those dead In your imagination You’re ever possessiveness that you are blinded By me, Think of me Still While she waits for the exorcism of your hate. I won’t cry Lie Or allow the bloodshed you seek You speak nothing but emptiness Words plucked, shared and perhaps remembered That contain your sorry life While I Grow.................. GROW For your lies, tight smelling, one sided cries Fall on deaf ears Mine Sacrifice paper, notes, coins and All that was always nothing, Seeking peace for young minds screaming STILL Good ole catholic boy Judge Judge me, judge my heart Splintering glass across years of suffocation Darkness Until light of lies will shine past Alone you will stand, calling yourself a man Amongst debris and disease, That you call your life. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Transgender Museum I journey into your eyes Palest white caress’s iris Of tormented blue darkness Which dulls receding in a whirl Like retreating waves on shore. Your mouth speaks Tongue whispering syllables That could be decibels In my ear I hear you Chasing the pain Bewilderment as black T- shirt lies flat, I wonder if I stare Would I see your heart beating? Or does it just beat for air Softly As breasts sigh, living a lie Suffocating underneath bewildered. I pull you into the future You pull me beyond I am the adult I should be strong, But I’m lying between a sandwich Of right and wrong My loss, my son, Stretching my configurations Staunch and stem To a society that will bend Allow us to blend In a museum of transgenders. Don’t look don’t glare With her sweet head bent Feeling she’s going nowhere But hell “You’ll burn in hell,” they whisper As she slips a little further Into escaping shadows of hurt Chop chop chop Cut it off Hair Bare Skin that disguises the true child within, Disgrace, disgust, loathing Loss of trust, Judge not my child For she came from God And I, I her mother Shall be the road she is standing on As I journey into her eyes, Cradle the tears Bind the ties, I shall be the society That shall accept As we follow the path down Grappling to stay in control, But losing a foothold On her precious soul. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Pollution of Thoughts I’m not polluting the air With my breath One breath But pollutions of thoughts Leave me Breathless Struggling for air. A world of disease Perversion Industries gathering skin Is it a sin? Screaming orgasms whipping Through a TV screen Petri dishes of floating life Disregarded in a blink of an eye, Miracle of transgender weeping Seeking that ear agreeing amputation Of flesh and baby skin thanking HIM for keeping your child alive While inside you cry Why me, why me, why me? The borrowers The beggars The bankers The lenders All wanting a piece of me. I’m not going to roar at seagulls Scavenging left over pickings As they flap Slap Unsettling silence in the air, Don’t really see me When careless eyes stare. Is there an Oliver In all of us Asking for more Palms out flat Weight of the world on our backs? Upload Download Heavy load Overload Bill posters plastered from wall to wall Telling us perfection is the way forward Smooth all my worry lines Smooth my laughter lines Lift my breasts so they sit just right, Mold my world While my toes curl And Prozac hour arrives As we develop our swallowing reflex Guzzling a gallon of God’s water To wash away the pain Flood your cosmetic pores But can’t quite numb the brain, As I whisper in the mirror “I don’t think so” Today, leave me alone. Pollutions of thoughts Leave me Breathless

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Viewed 2226 times since 18 Dec 2007

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Comments

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Tomás Ó Cárthaigh

Mon 26th May 2008 15:21

Ah, Bubo!!! Great to see you here, saw you on WritersCafe.

<Deleted User>

Sat 22nd Dec 2007 20:06

Veeeeeery interesting!

Very interesting indeed. But what will nurse say, Bubo? Will she laugh do you think?

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clarissa mckone

Fri 21st Dec 2007 02:43

Bubo,
I cant say why as I dont understand it, excet that is a great poem but your poem called Transgender Museum touches me so. It could be the Mom in me the protector of children. Im not sure but I really like that poem. Happy holidays to you!

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clarissa mckone

Wed 19th Dec 2007 01:57

Hi Bubo, I remember an owel with your name! I like your poems they flow very well and you have a great talent or a wonderful muse!

Kevin Connolly

Tue 18th Dec 2007 19:12

I’m not going to roar at seagulls
Scavenging left over pickings
As they flap
Slap
Unsettling silence in the air,
Don’t really see me
When careless eyes stare.
Is there an Oliver
In all of us
Asking for more
Palms out flat
Weight of the world on our backs?

Smooth all my worry lines
Smooth my laughter lines
Lift my breasts so they sit just right,
Mold my world
While my toes curl
And Prozac hour arrives
As we develop our swallowing reflex
Guzzling a gallon of God’s water
To wash away the pain
Flood your cosmetic pores
But can’t quite numb the brain,
As I whisper in the mirror
“I don’t think so”
Today, leave me alone.

- This poem would be the star piece at any recital. The words just rolled off my tongue as I read it.
You will go far, Bubo!

Kevin Connolly

Tue 18th Dec 2007 19:07

I pull you into the future
You pull me beyond
I am the adult
I should be strong,
But I’m lying between a sandwich
Of right and wrong
My loss, my son,
Stretching my configurations
Staunch and stem
To a society that will bend
Allow us to blend
In a museum of transgenders.

Judge not my child
For she came from God
And I,
I her mother
Shall be the road she is standing on
As I journey into her eyes,
Cradle the tears
Bind the ties,
I shall be the society
That shall accept
As we follow the path down
Grappling to stay in control,
But losing a foothold
On her precious soul.

- A mother's love is a blessing. You write absolutely sublime poetry, Bubo. I won't pretend I understand it all - some of it is way above my head: as all great poetry should be.
Brilliant.

Kevin Connolly

Tue 18th Dec 2007 19:02

Call me damaged, call me strange
I am not this woman you claim,
Stripped
But for you
Perhaps I could spread my legs
Take out those dead
In your imagination
You’re ever possessiveness that you are blinded
By me,
Think of me
Still
While she waits for the exorcism of your hate.

Good ole catholic boy
Judge
Judge me, judge my heart
Splintering glass across years of suffocation
Darkness

Until light of lies will shine past
Alone you will stand, calling yourself a man
Amongst debris and disease,
That you call your life.

- WOW! CLASSIC STUFF, BUBO!
You're following in the footsteps of Seamus Heaney - only a brave poet would dare to do that. Fantastic!

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