Some Sort of Baby Food

It’s just where to start, just where to begin,

The boy with a bomb in the Ostermilk tin,

With a chemists collusion the passing of cash,

Salt-peter, sulphur and ground charcoal ash.

The boy was quite young being just eight or nine,

The making of gunpowder well in his time,

A bomb or a banger ‘just questions of scale’,

And ...

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Peer amid the Pyramids
Can you count the grains of sand?
There are more than enough there
to build pathways to a new land.

Cement them all together then
and let's do the same with man,
make the effort to bring strength
and peace that all can understand.

For in the end there will be a need
for peace if mankind is to survive,
as only without these conflicts can
we hope...

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I watch and stand

and let a passing cloud

hit by moonlight

make a rimmed spectacle

of a distant want.

I shift my weight and

blink

and recall wordless

feelings before

putting into words

those useless

aphorisms.

It's the words,

with their wanton

un-mouthed ache,

that bleat silently

against the ear

tangle those

as yet un-marked

a...

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http://manorlogz.co.uk/play/Other/Mark_Thompson

Been involved in this comeptition since July, really need people to register on the website and then click on the stars below the video to vote for me!

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Oh polar bear rolling,

So tousled, so rumpled

such spikeywet furrings

so fluff and so jumpled

And growlings and strokings

And grumping and gruffing

And paddy paws loving

Bear tender and rubbing

And rolling and butting

And nuzzling caresses

Oh polar bear loving -

It always impresses!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

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December evening crisply cold

solitary stroll in falling snow

with soft breath starflakes cloud dispersed

soundless feet through lamplight of old globes

like full moons lifted in Atlas arms

along the muffled avenue

mellow yellow puddles gleaming at their feet

and I remember Lux flakes as they drifted

glistening

from the gaping box into the steaming was...

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You are just the sun.

Here, gone, left, right

And I merely the moon.

Passers by of the same sky

Over each other's horizons,

Cancel one another out.

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Fire in my head

Burns in my heart

Rams in my gut

Soothes in my flesh

A sword to stroke

Love thrusts on it

Up and deep

It’s more than this

Riding on you

Giddy up down

And you in me

The thread is my blood

A psychic bind

A fetish chain  

Which ties us

Always to you

And each other.

You resist

A bit.

But never for long...

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Where do birds bury their dead?

I know they do…

Walking in woodlands,

Parks, leafy streets

Cross-cut with instant meadow

Inter-lacing gardens, cross-hatched

With secretly nesting winged-wonders

Emerging to eat, scavenge, court,

Talk, endlessly talk..

Now the muffling commune of ice

Has freed blind stores of food

Beyond this killer camp of cold

...

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We are all dots … just waiting

to be connected to each other.

We mirror fingerprints to find a match.

Planets align as ink lines draw freely.

For a while, on borrowed time,

we find formation in crimson skies.

In backlit flight we say goodbye

To a once engaging perfect line.

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eyes are following me everywhere i tread

eyes,eyes,eyes filling me with dread

they are chasing me to everywhere i go

following to places only i know

green mean eyes blue prying eyes

brown eyes of the darkest hue

they are hiding in the shaddows giving me no clue when they might appear

eyes,eyes,eyes how they sear into my soul

eyes behind cameras and cctv controls

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`

Be numb to me
get off your knee
cease from demeaning
my esteem for you
with your lucid hate

the hourglass leaks

coloured sand pours
rainbow streaked tears
where the rains bleached
this sunburnt heart
with the acid of your disdain

these wearied hands

no longer reach for yours
your reflection is marred
and the mirror put awa...

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Viewed from below

the world is shallow

an irregular trickle

that settles so little

time and space just to wallow

and splash a feint shadow

to flush out tomorrow

and fashion a tableau

in which God and the Devil

by turns pull and tug

a perpetual struggle

for control of the plug.

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The icicles have started to drop
In a reprieve over zero degrees
These daggers, these sharks teeth beneath
Clung to the eaves like frozen feelings
Waiting to reveal
Still whole but diminished, eroded still able to feel
Shadows of themselves they fall- all finished
On the floor, its like they corroded.
The pools make lakes with the lonely
wilting around zero who goaded
Like t...

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It started life as a poem called 'The Voyage Of The Prudence', written in 1989 for a bit of amusement only. But then this poem somehow became a stage show called 'Hunting The Great White Prawn': it grew to a hour and and a half in length and involved, as well as its two characters, a band. It got successful around Folk Clubs, Arts Centres, Comedy Clubs and Festivals before imploding due to the ...

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I gaze vacantly, hopefully nodding and grunting in all the right places so as not to lengthen the tirade of mindless idiocy, pitter pattering upon my beleaguered ears, Surely its obvious about my intent to save more brain cells from sleeping to death?

Could anyone be so stupid or unaware?

I feel it more with each beat, a volatile uprising within, bubbling rage at such blissf...

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On Christmas Eve

when every shop is shut

every thing you ever dreamed of

bought, stacked, unpacked, wrapped

every thing you couldn’t buy a distant memory

everything you meant to buy a shrugged shoulder

every card sent, every penny spent

every child snuggled warm in sleeping bed

On Christmas Eve

when every last thing is said and done

there is a speci...

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In many countries alongside the concept of Nice Santa who brings gifts for the good boys and girls there also co-exists Nasty Santa who carries a stick for beating the naughty children.  In France he is known as Le Pere Fouettard.

My Santa you will never see upon your Christmas card,

The counterpart of Pere Noel: his brother, Pere Fouettard.

I know if I’m a good girl tha...

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 (To “Hark The Herald Angels Sing”)

The Christmas pudding’s gone all soggy,

And I’ve burnt the Christmas cake.

The mincemeat’s oozed out of the pies,

It’s all been a big mistake.

The Yule log is one huge joke,

Santa’s sunk into the snow

Upside down – he’s done a bunk,

And the robin, that looks drunk.

I don’t know what we’re to do,

Even the turkey’...

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You're only up the stairs,

moved recently from view,

you hear my happy shout,

and yes, I love you too.

Only in our bedroom

putting something right,

frowning in concentration

with sleeves rolled up tight.

Capable hands and forearms,

you're smiling at my call,

whistling through your teeth,

tapping on the wall.

Only in the next room...

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- I am a little rabbit, hrum - hrum,

I like sweet carrot, hrum - hrum,

I'm like a ferret, hrum - hrum,

Live in a burrow, hrum - hrum,

Though it's narrow, hrum - hrum,

Now I am eating cabbage, hrum - hrum,

It's for my courage, hrum - hrum.

- Dear little rabbit, tell me your habit.

- Hrum - hrum!

-Happy New Year, dear rabbit!

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bottomoceanbound transmissions
untamed aggression turns the water black
the patient
commits suicide in the operating theatre
his last action: resisting the anasthetic

the guitar strings break
disrupting the outoftune melodies
the orchestra falls silent amongst the stars
piercing themselves with their instruments;
the musicians lips are sown together

               | no...

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He's magical

like Elvis.

Like Elvis

not many know

he has a twin.

Embreo split like yin and yang

encompassing the universe's majesty.

Death and rebirth.

Light and dark.

Fear and love.

And all that's in-between.

One child playful as oompa loompas

all dancing and silly songs.

The other the underside of a scratched CD

and f...

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You will miss me

when you are alone, she said,

when the tide of life’s cold wind

freezes about your head

when the sunset burns red

and only you are there to see

when the laughing of the stream

mocks you in your stead

when your arms wrap around nothing

as they search your empty bed

when you melt at seeing a smile

but wake from dreaming it instead

w...

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Crazy feeling

I’m still alive kicking up a storm

Crash bang bitch talk

Yes oh yes

The sort of talk that I like when I have a mind

Don’t you know?

Like you didn’t know

Lay me like a blade cold as chrome

Crawdaddy kisses down my spine

They burn like ice

Mind and eye filling

Spilling over and over with stingsong

The gone wrong too ...

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 We are snug blanketed under a layer, thick and soft

the wreck of the garden beautified by it

the rooves insulated

gate iron curlicued

thickened in outline

 a stuttering blurred underlining

snow font.

Walking and feeling the tense squeak

unfamiliar gait to ache our thighs

we are un-gendered,

muffled, pillowed

crack of face, eyes skenning

comfort o...

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Here is a very cliche, very self indulgent but sincere poem I wanted to share with all of you. Thanks for reading and commenting on previous poems :-)

2010 Onward

This year I took the leap of faith

Jumped off a couple of roundabouts

Strolled down a few different avenues

Next year

when the snow has melted on roofs and trees

and birds sit on the wires once ...

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One evening in the gloaming with the hour approaching late

I heard a sound, just ask my cat, he may corroborate.

I quickly went alfresco, thought I'd better take a look

A crowd of farmers gathered round to watch a donnybrook.

One farmer in pyjamas with a rubicund complexion,

Officious and unlaundered too, I thought, on close inspection,

Screamed words so execrable ...

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God could have sent his Son

a million different ways.

But look at what he chose.

I'll tell you what it says.

It says open your hearts,

It says be generous and free,

Look outside your little box

That's what he's saying to you and me.

Mary was not respectable,

Pregnant before she was wed.

Open your hearts to unmarried mothers.

That's really ...

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‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
But don’t feel contented instead please beware,
Because soon that old creep Santa Claus will be there.

I know what you’re thinking ‘he’s just a kind old man’
But don’t let him fool you, you know that’s his plan.
Therefore it is only my duty to suggest ways to divert,
The ma...

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Once-upon-a-time, a barman worshipped the Sun.

Worked nights so didn’t see much of it

but in his head he’d got stories of

the Fire God supreme,

Blaze Lord,

vanquishing monsters who'd eat out your dreams.

He called the Sun ‘Hero’,

believed it had six pairs of arms,

giant wings of flame

and the handsomest nose in the galaxy.

Made moons blush

and g...

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I was travelling in America in October and while I was there I did this poem at Chicago's famous Uptown Poetry Slam, 'where slam began', which was a fab night, go there if you can! Well I had to didn't I? This poem is about my fascinations and contradictions about that great nation, partly why I was there. (The photo is me, there, honest, just taken on my rubbish mobile.)

American Dre...

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Out there we have a world.

I doubt myself, my hands like lace,

pale anaemic whispers, and touch the air.

It is heavy like a pallbearer’s lung,

it is, where my eye meets, rust.

“Remember me” - What youth I have!

Thin and untidy, knotted and Ophelia,

under my fingernails, and innate,

leaping out of my throat. Unkissed.

There are ...

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Ravenous

Hungry for:

Power,

Religion’s been hijacked.

But some people will nick anything if it’s not nailed down.

Communication,

Fibre-optic means

Sound is light, light is sound.

So, does the sun stuff notes with Helium and let them go?

Lord let them soar; they’re too fly not to fly.

God never whispers.

Life,

Ti...

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The lack of poetry is symbolic of the deadness of soul i have felt, Since we have been no longer 'us', Mourning the love of a caring hand calming the head rush, My tears fall within now, And only surface when the vessel is flooded, I cant afford to think, So my movements are accelerated, Because i know if i stop the feeling will kill me, I miss the kiss in the morning, The saftey of arriv...

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Wake up christmas morning
Force myself out of bed.
The happy day is dawning
And my head's full of dread.

Walk downstairs, the house is cold
And you're a sorry sight
Looking about 100 years old.
Was it just another fight?

There are gifts under the tree
But no one gives a sh*t
False smiles show no ounce of glee
Is this really it?

It's not the gifts that we don't like
...

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Lines written in the Tudor House on the 30thAnniversary of the death of John Lennon

Hey Johnnie

You hook-nosed bastard

You made specs sexy

And played a mean Rickenbacker

Attention seeking nihilist

Gob shite scouser

Merciless poison-tongued delinquent

Hiding the quiet man inside

To my dad’s amazement

You grew up and flew away

Sharing your dreams

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Keep Fighting
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

A long time ago,
I was told
to give up
the dream,
and I listened.
A long time ago,
it was suggested
that I find a man
to take me home
and make me his wife.
This would be the life
for me,
but it was not the future
I had in mind.
I wanted to fly.
I wanted my dreams
to breathe the air
that we take for granted.
I want...

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Full on the lips

My heart was kissed

Gentle tongues,

Pushing against

Feelings long

Held tight

Thoughts flooding

Upon this watershed

Their gentle flow

carried me

to reveal a new

understanding  of love

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There is trouble in the nursery.

The children ask for more.

They are climbing up the curtains.

They are stamping on the floor.

Nanny State is spanking them.

She weilds her wooden spoon,

But the children run about her.

They are crying for the moon.

Why don’t they eat their porridge up?

They call for toast and egg.

Where has their pocket money gone?

...

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I know the places to caress

and kiss you to your little death

I'll slip my hand inside your dress

I know the places to caress

Let me alleviate your stress

until you pulse and catch your breath

I know the places to caress

and kiss you to your little death.

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I make my mark on the world

not large but big enough

no highlight, fame nor fortune

but written bold with love.

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What is this mental condition 'depression' that has befriended me so well ?

I feel part of the belonging yet I do'nt really belong here

Is this person really me ?

She seems so different, she seems lost in the confusion of this illness

I want to find my way out of here

I want to be away from this 'depression' and be myself again...

someday soon..

who knows..

...

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Undeniable stupidity brands, mutters a hopeful fear
as the scotch of mankind whoops its need.
Yet you still flip if I touch.

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Here are the stats for November 2010.

    * 4,025 registered members

    * 1.9 million hits

    * 2,629 log-ins to the site

    * 128 new events put on gig guide

    * 63 events updated on gig guide

    * 15 poets added their profiles to the Poets' Showcase

    * 834 Poets are now on the Showcase

    * 237 poets' profiles where updated on the showcase

...

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When you wake up right in the middle of a cold cold night

and there's no such a thing as a warm blue light

with hardly anyone around

yet you're still loved

your dreams-

justified

it really seems

your life is made of dreams

we breathe, neither awake nor asleep

our world falling apart, yet there's football on TV

with all there is to come - just how shall an...

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All the way through the job interview I

desperately wanted to shout out the word

‘cunt’ very loudly. I don’t know why

but I did. I wanted to

spit it, hiss it,

scream it out in my interviewers’ faces.

I wanted to howl and growl and

bark it. I wanted them all

to know. But

I never. I just

sat there thinking:

‘cunt, cunt, cunt!’

And it’s the fact that

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Clumsy Language

Trips over its shoelaces

swears and lights another fag,

cracks open a can and blurs its own edges.

Disorganisation and bad planning

hold hands, stand brashly

interfering with the chairs.

Agitation twitches fingertips,

paces itself out

shouts to be heard in the quietest space.

The security guard

working hard ...

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