Let the chips fall,
We're cutting down a tree.
But only to build a bridge
made of electricity.

It's connecting you and me,
to a future we can't see.
Que sera, sera,
What will be will be.

The light that shines inside us
is directing you to me.

Fate is in auto-pilot and it flies in stealth
the beauty of surrender
is a new abundant wealth.

To hell with always ...

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Alone does not hurt or brutalise

Alone does not drink beer and sing

Alone does not leave socks on the floor

Alone does not make me overdrawn

Alone does not run the risk of something broken

Alone does not make promises

Alone does not make me weep

Alone does not tell me what to think

Alone does not think it's all ok

Alone does not keep score

Alone sound alr...

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Electric fence     nnnnnnnnzhnnnzhnnnnnnzhnnnn

Spar     ks     ks  ks

Water dripping     pp   dri   pp   pp

The room entire:

 

nnnnnnnnzhnnnzhnnnnnnzhnnnnksnnnnksnnn

nnnzhnnnnppnnnnppnnnzhnnnksnnnnksnnnnn

nnppnnnnksnnnnnksnnnnzhnnnzhnnnnppnnnn

nnksnnnppnnnppnnnksnnnksnnnnzhnnnzhnnn

 

Then the sparks sto     p

A bucket for the dri      pping

Electr...

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Control Food

I don’t know when it started
When food became an issue
I remember how life was
I was diagnosed as dyslexic
After my Mum sent me for a private test
Although the School didn’t want to accept it
They didn’t want to help
Budget issues, staffing and resources
Excuses, excuses, excuses
My Mum fought their disbelief
Craving the help and guidance I needed
I heard...

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A Time For Snowdrops.

 

The snow spoke words of winter and it sang of passing time,

The mundane and the mystic of the sullen and sublime,

It whispered untold wonders and it shouted stunted verse,

It bade the time of brilliance and it welcomed in the curse.

 

We walked with youthful pleasure as we stumbled into age,

We prattled out our simple lines upon a wondrous...

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Somewhere, the 9 till 5 office worker stops me with a deadpan stare,
Fixes me with the times of timetables passed, the graph paper squares
Of tomorrow’s schedule. The high-rise offices never bother to look down.

I never liked the city.

Never really cared
for the city’s callousness, its daily suicide,
the shadow at the top of each building that watches with certainty.

C...

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Pretty Young

 

In a room full of people pissed up and more

She caught his eye over the sticky, fag ash floor

She looked pretty; young in her face not her clothes

She swore blind to him she were eighteen years old

Had a date of birth memorised if he cared to delve

‘Cause she’d been out on the lash

Since the day she turned twelve

And just six months later she h...

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Grey of hair

And moustache,

He would sit

Patiently

With the slow guest

Poring

The un- perspicuous

Phrase-book.

In his tiny kitchen.

 

In the aftermath of war

And plenitude

Of remnant explosives

He had come into possession

Of some hand grenades.

 

And desiring

To eat of more fish

Than a mere net

Afforded

Had ch...

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So that ye may not be the martyred slaves of time,

that you may be as boundless as a young man in his prime,

that you may be at one with nature beautifully sublime.

Make the world your ashtray, and never stand in line.

 

There are so many mere mortals and a certain little few

are full of ego-lead authority telling you what to do

and acting on a big idea that isn't qu...

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He chewed the word
like week old gum
chamming
its mountainous peaks and troughs

a wiped clean credit card
poked a plastic shark fin
from the crocodile bubbled wallet
gaping in his palm

he was just confused
but he needed
a long word
to picture the beach

one that drew out the blade
from his dead friend
spilling red
through the pebbles

one to navigate th...

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Does it help to be dead before you are read...

In your sodden grave with the sod overhead?

 

Is eternity the place to be

Before the world says that's for me?

 

Will it help fame to find your rhyme

If you're hauled to your tomb before your time?

 

In death to strike a deathless pose

While a newly-wise world admires your prose.

 

If that's the way i...

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Upon leaving the army

the country gained

one more scrounger.

 

Swapping medals for disability

bullets for cuts.

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CUPBOARD

What is hiding inside your cupboard? Out sight and mind, forgotten about. Could there be a stolen stash of cash from a bank job that was never recovered? Or an antique Webbley pistol from World War One? Worth three grand. Maybe a small enchanted gold necklace lurks there which belonged to a real witch. Does she miss it? An old piece of paper with a faded love poem wrote in purple ...

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I find It hard to stretch my mind, I would question the motives of a saint. Nice. Instinct runs through blood, or so I'm told. I worry about my brother, My blood is pure, Just cold.

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Electorate, looking out
was not what he saw.
He saw the Great apathetic.

Waves of passion crest in pubs
never reaching the ballot box,
falling far too short to give voice.

Fickle public,
present a point of view, then:
run and hide from those who could help.

He doesn't care, just as long
as there is enough apathy,
to keep him seated.

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There was a man who lived in city. He lived in a small room three floors up from the street and frequently felt very lonely. Now when I mention the city I won't say which one, as this might be misleading. It would prove less confusing to say which city it wasn't rather than which it was. For instance if I said it was London you might conjure a picture in your mind, perhaps of a man sat in a sma...

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For finding a nail the shoe was fixed.
For gaining a shoe the horse was available.
For having a horse the rider was on stage.
For involvement of the rider the battle was won.
For winning the battle the kingdom was gained.
And all because of the horseshoe nail.

 

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(I owe the redress) 

 

 

For the past millennium astride the clouds of time

Has stood the pride of Selby, iconic and sublime.

Older than York’s Minster, than that of Salisbury too,

Inspired by Benedict of France, and built by Abbot Hugh.

 

A house of joy and worship where choirs of children sing

But boasting royal heritage as birthplace of a king.

Holding...

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This memento

Of Sheffield:

I bought it

For you.

Should I leave it here?

Seeing as

It is stuck

Deep

In your guts.

Your lifeblood seeping

Onto the cold,

Soiled pavement.

You lie, eviscerated, gurgling.

Helpless as a newborn.

 

What?

I don't hate you.

I don't even know you.

Or your mum.

Your brothers and sisters

Or any...

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Imprisoned thoughts dribble down my face
while forming patterns damply drowning
like the long-awaited swollenness of
babyfaceless not so darling gentle
crowning from the queen of hearts

Ice-olated stalactites sung low
with unappreciated bluntful
breasts of blinkered glory on the edge of
trueless stories told by heartless mothers
frantic to absolve their blame

Seagulls ...

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Tippler toilets down the yard, pitch black.

No chain,

ripped up newspapers down the drain.

No lights,

not even a candle on cold winter nights.

 

Constipation cured when the cat runs in

and the rat runs out.

No locks,

just scream and shout

when you pull up your kecks

and scamper out !

 

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My angriest and most topical album ever....Available from  http://www.attilathestockbroker.com/merch.html

Loads of gigs happening soon....

Cheers A

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The only things that matter in life

Are time, and suffering, says my friend Maisie,

Herself a philospoher, with two degrees,

One in philosophy, so she should know.

 

And time is fascinating, she says; odd choice of word,

Personally, I used to have no time for time,

It passed me by like a river flowing round a stone,

Until I got my new clock; new to me, that is

...

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They all crash and burn

One by one

They fall

Like black doves

In flames, little dots over Normandy

Scraping through clay skies.

In each dream

A real man.

The black and white

Film

sharpens up the contrasts

Of their edges

But Now they

Blur

And flick fast past my eyes 

Until in technicolour

There is no grey

Just  hues of the...

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One day, a butterfly

Came by

And settled on my knee

Can't you see

Said he

That I am Free

Free to fly

Into the Sky ................

Bye Bye

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Poem 136 of 230:  LANCASHIRE SUNG SIMPLY

(TUNE - IN THE KEY OF F MAJOR: 

D2 A2 Bb2 A2
D2 A2 Bb2 A2 G2 F2 F3
D2 A2 Bb2 A2
D2 A2 Bb2 A2 G2 F2 F3)

Lancashire:
Cut by rivers/met by sea;
Patched by farmlands,
Mills and other industry.

Lancashire:
With your linkslands by the sea - 
Rough left wild/
Greens and fairways clipped neatly.

Lancashire:
With your Pennine boundary;
Stee...

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Blinding bright the winter light

strikes out against the chill

reviving life and spirit

as perched up atop the hill

it reaches through the laden clouds

strikes all who lay below

warms, restores, promotes, implores

instils a rosy glow

the visits though infrequent treats

remind us of the force

sustaining through truncated days

as the season wends ...

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Renee Scoble's cat

used to be quite fat

once sat on the mat

sometimes chased a rat

now she's just got flat

and...that's the end of that!

 

 

 

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Though quite a Europhile, I'll willingly admit

One thing the single currency just cannot do

Though, sadly, truth to tell, the self-same problems sit

Within the British monetary system, too.

 

I was a coin-collector, as a geeky kid;

I scoured for specie in my pockets from loose change

Which in those times so many of us children did

Though numismatic hobbies nowada...

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On the street where we lived,a general merchant had his goods-yard,,where he stowed  his wares,this yard held a very large shire horse which was fed on a regular basis by all the residents, local and not so local,the merchant also kept an extremely beutiful rooster, its feathers were of many colours,it also sported a large red comb, it was a magnificent bird, when the merchant opened his yard i...

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According to Ivan Illich

the siren of one ambulance

can destroy Samaritan attitudes

in a whole Chilean town.

 

He was a passenger and knew

next to nothing of cars except

sit tight and hold on around corners.

Saturday was his Sabbath

and the pool-hall was his temple

until a swerve to miss a mangy dog

sent his algebra flying at angles;

he felt the...

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***

Там, где ритмы речей давно не слышны,
Собираю фрагменты  фраз.
Или видел меня ты не с той стороны,
Или вовсе не видел нас...

С каждым днём бесполезней моя броня,
Мой спасительный броский цвет.
Перед тем как сменить слово мы на я,
Я признаюсь, что слова нет...

Столкновенье теней исключает спор,
Я на спор выхожу на свет,
Оставляя застенчивый мой позор
В перекрё...

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                                                                UNICEF

 

 

     It’s a day today,

Just like any other day!

     We toil we’re paid

And pay our way

As life ceaselessly moving –

Incessantly badgering

Keeps all in ways of conformity

And there; we hasten a quarrel

That life, is not living

If living is only to work.

 

    ...

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For my son, Joe, on his thirtieth birthday

 

thirty years ago

(how is thirty years a long time but the memory a second?)

 

I held you in my arms

baby, proud Father

as a photograph

 

so many old photographs

where for a second

the living are captured

 

I want to reach inside

live the moment

know again those people

whose flesh w...

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Life is not a tale.

You can many times fail.

Life is a science.

It’s your reliance.

If you all the time learn

you will certainly earn

the knowledge you need

so that your life to feed.

You can be joyful and cry

and million times to ask:

             WHY?

 

Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)

The 24th of January, 2012

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Ragged

man on the street, I

turn my eyes so I will not meet.

Disgusted?

No, but see my possible life.

Fear in my heart, is all hope

busted?

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'The Men Pomes' by Gerry Potter
8pm, 29.2.12 - 3.3.12
Studio Salford, Kings' Arms, 11 Bloom Street, Salford £7 / 5
Tickets can be bought on the night at the door or bought online http://www.ticketweb.co.uk/user/?region=gb_northwest&query=schedule&venue=kingsarmssalford&month=1&day=29&year=112&interface=kingsarmssalford

Creator of Chloe Poems and writer of smash hit play 'Miracle', Ge...

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The worst of the front was that trickle of rain

down the neck. Wet through, it felt like liberation.

And lice. Home on leave, people shunned him in trains.

 

Walled, hilltop village of his childhood:

as another war came, he returned to Barga.

Saw himself as immobile, a tree spreading roots.

 

When the Germans briefly retook his village

one self-portrait was damaged. The ...

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The sleeping waters of the lake, quiet, they dream of the moon,

Reflected captured by their depths,

As tonight, the trees hush to the wind’s gentle tune,

And we see all the ‘fore unseen sights,

And we sculpt and we paint and we write,

As a dreamy awe takes away our breath

 

And this night we share a dream,

Yes tonight we kiss each other’s worlds,

...

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An inoffensive old man

Sits down and contemplates his situation

While the years have scored his forehead

Intimidated by the gaze

Of over-complicated fear.

From an early pose his neutrality

Falls away from the shackles of home.

Far from domesticity, flung away

From fear and intimidation of peers

So devoid of attachments.

But he sips warm milk.

 

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Bay 3

 

He would come to her mostly at night. Sloping down the long corridors

of white-tiled darkness. The easy smile, soft words.

A touching of hands. Close and quiet; fixed

in their yellow cone beneath the anglepoise.

 

Some nights her eyes were seastorms. A fury of wind

on black waves. A craze of hot, white lightning

against the pale wash of turquois...

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God is looking for action,

Act,

take steps,

pray,

write a book or a manuscript.

 

It might make you woozy,

to sign a pact with the devil,

blind panic.

 

But take that first step,

peeling rust off steel,

deciding you can do it.

 

Then gaze blankly,

fall asleep,

queue,

lean against a bar,

break a figurine,

take a li...

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I was looking at that window thinking

there's someone I love in there - 

and she was

 

I looked at your window later

waving a thousand times - 

and yet couldn't stop

 

I'm looking at that dim lit window

as cold rain struggles to freeze white -

 

And in there are my mad life's beauties,

as I lean against the first of January's nights

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Half In Shadow

Adamas had spent his career managing chaos. He traveled from the red clay South to the milkweed Midwest because Aquanetta invited him and his life in Birmingham Alabama was killing him. He was bored with public television and Birmingham, uninterested in grandchildren, tired of X-wives, X-girlfriends and advice from doctors who wanted to manage his entire existence. A change will ...

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There are trees of peculiar shape

at the bottom of my garden – branches made strict,

glued

with magpie feathers

and an ungodly green bottle neck

trunk.

 

They wink in the sight of a distant sun –

sanded down, a rare pink hue

but pistol gripped,

and a hot diamond snap

over the horizon.

 

My throat is sore –

swallowing, corseted,

and...

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Tonight is the night

These boots are made for show

 

Written by an indignant hand,

More dignified than mine

 

Thin as wire, quick as fire

Quick as swallows backward in the night

 

A peacution freeze

In the midnight breeze

 

And to that wretched end,

We sold our souls

 

New beginnings, novel readings

Mindless mercies

 

You’r...

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