Without you I cannot imagine myself;

I lived an unreal past

that was part of the soul

I thought loved me

I sailed on the river of your lies,

of everything that you said you felt

I made up a mirage of tender caresses

where you were the delight of all my senses

Among thorns of silence I landed;

tears blinded me and without pause

and swiftly my way became ...

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I wonder,

how surprised would you be

to find out

that I actually delight

at the deviousness

in your false words to me

the misconception

of your perception

that I am thought of

as a fool

poorly schooled

in the art of manipulation.

Since unbeknown to you

I am in reality

the unloved victor

whose lips can also deceive

in the same fashion.

Bu...

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I do; my dad.
There's no doubt that I'm his lad.
His left knee and mine are weak.
Phone us up and let us speak
to hear how similar we are;
my brush bristles with his tar.
My sweat smells the same as his;
a tang of graft and fear that is
both helical and hand-me-down,
but I'm not fit to wear the crown:
he took stock at twenty-three,
I'm fifty; no one walks like me.

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called from the depths of a rock named home
brought, knee height to rest in rapture
what I thought was the world in my hands
a meagre, fleeting, single-framed capture

this is what it had meant to be lost in your eyes
glazed over with stupid love, white hot without reason
an oscillating sum of parts, clumsy and lost
grasping, huffing helium, heads hung in treason

man-made and pin-stripe...

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Moss lifted from a lake will bleed water upon my feet,
Saved from drowning,
Crying to drown again.
Bittersweet, Bittersweet, Bittersweet the memory.
Hollowed out scars of abandonment,
Face their foe of remembrance,
Struggling in battle.
Stalemate, Stalemate.
Bequeathed pain of loss shouts down recollection,
Reminiscence fights to fill void.
To remember is hurt,
To remember is to learn.

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All it ever took was a hug . A plain and simple action  , yes a hug . It dosent take too much , a plain and simple touch . To make you feel your wanted and your loved . A hug can set your troubles free , can make you feel no pain . Can make you feel your not alone , and your confidence you will regain .

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A young man with grace, charm and handsome good looks,
he had a way with the ladies like the chap in the 50 shades books,
cheeky and witty with a sense of humour so dry,
catching a glance of a beautiful woman's sexy smokey eyes,
in a moment he was stood there chatting right by her side,
his intention to court her he did not even think to hide.

The question he asked and so they took to the ...

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O how I miss you, old friend -

Like the leaf misses its branch,

Like the sand misses the sea,

Like the sky misses the rainbow,

Like sadness misses salt tears.

When I see you in fleeting moments -

I am a tree finding its roots,

I am a cloud finding its storm,

I am a drop finding its ocean,

I am a smile finding its bliss.

And when I leave you all over again -

A flowe...

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My hands are on the keyboard

tapping as I write this – I haven’t

planned to write anything in particular

but I like the sound of the keys. It

reminds me of being a child when

I always liked buttons and would pester

my mum to let me press the ones at

the cash machine so they would make

that sound - boop boop boop. Anything

that made a noise was good to me –

like at the...

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I’ve got a little nest egg that I’ve built up over time

I’ve earned it all “by hand and brain” and none of it through crime;

And though I’ve been a cautious chap I thought I’d have a bash

At making an investment with my little bit of cash.

I’m looking for a prospect which is very poorly run

And one where all my friends will chorus, “Johnboy, you’ve been done!”;

An outfit whe...

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I tell you there’s no ending, no straightening the straights,

and the twists and turns of life will remain unending.

Where do those paths go, via many trees bowed by breeze,

and thorny bushes with fresh and old blood specks to show.

Some are freeted by time, just lumbering and slumbering,

as stuttering takes them on to old, past their posturing prime.

Bored by ster...

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Do you remember my England?

When people said "How do you do?"

And most of them were folk you knew,

And everybody joined a queue...

I do.

Do you remember my England?

When people seemed to care and share

And it was just not done to stare,

And barbers used to cut your hair...

I do.

Do you remember my England?

When "addict" meant a pinball fan

And workmen ...

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Litreature is an effortles way of teaching  language.When I get enough money,illustrating them,I want to publish the following poems.I need your enriching feedbacks on the content and style.

Once up on a time

There was an old king

Who used to worry

About one thing

'Surely one day

I will pass away!'

As many me advise

Among my sons

The wise

A he...

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A short story—

________________________________

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Emotionally unstable?

Life becomes a series of two periods.

One where you feel good and life is great,

and one where every day is a bumpy ride on an emotional rollercoaster.

When on the verge of tears, it’s always a close call holding them back, not letting them fall.

 I discovered that when on the verge of tears,

I hold my breath in an attempt to wait it out.

Stupidly trying ...

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Dreamers calculating,
Blood coagulating, 
Coconut milk rivers , 
The opium forest quivers,
Naked leprechauns shiver,
Quasi - artificial flowers,
& Highlighter showers

The Martian spontaneously combusts,
The Stapler Snake spontaneously rusts

The neon mushroom grottos,
Defile the honest man’s mottos,
The sky is a self- destructing sculpture,
This life is a self-destructing culture
C...

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They had never given anything to anyone,

They had never built or created anything,

They were only stealing each divine day,

Forgetting to ask the forgiveness or pray.

Belaboring each other they shame the nation.

They can only vote and discuss with passion,

Not lifting their gorged asses from chairs,

The antisocial, immoral laws of aggression,

Ignoring people’s groans, tears...

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I crawl along, no fear, no worries.

I drool, I spit, no stress.

The world it waits, watches,

while I discover.

And now I walk, tentative.

Each step bringing me closer

to the fate that awaits.

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Why do we worry so much about tomorrow;

When we can do so much today.

Why do we cry for those who are leaving;

Forgetting the ones who stay.

Why do we long for that which we cannot have;

Without appreciating what we already possess.

We live life in a rush and often miss out so much,

We dwell on dreams and mistakes;

And live the present in a haze.

Take a pause and feel th...

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In school I was foolish—graded and grated.

I’d spend my time passing it.

I’d break bones for the cheap

Seats in gym class one day;

I’d breakfast at noon the next.

I’d wage war with witticisms and wisecracks.

I’d say “thank you” by way of thumbtack.

I beat blackboards till they were white

And they beat me till I was black-and-blue.

I was light in the wallet, heavy in the ...

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Contemplated Suicide

She speaks a beautiful soliloquy
And her voice melodically plays on my heart strings
All the while we both contemplated suicide
Along the ends of each other's love
She was mine and I, hers...

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wish you were here .....

 baby dont leave me

 u r d happist part of ma sadest life...

 even u own ma borin life

u r d cutest part of ma

 tired life ...

even ua haterd can please me

 u wer d cure of ma injury....

now left me back wid same pain

u wer d sweetness of sour life .

. y did u leave me in sorrow ..

 if ma smile makes u sad

 i swear ill neva smile

 if ...

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A spider works tirelessly on an intracate weaving of delicate silver threads

Colecting tiny delicate dewdrops

Shining like diamonds littered with droplets in the sun

Hanging, strung in the queerest places

So beautiful, it seems there should be someone different crafting these inginious masterpeices

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Does The Light Cry?

     Our biology,

Our human mechanism

For negotiating pain,

Wasn’t merely thrown

Slovenly into the mix,

     Wasn’t just created without

Thought and understanding

Of the nature we become,

The nature we already are.

     When a human becomes

Hurt, they cry,

They cry perhaps the saltwater

Of the seas we once belonged,

     And n...

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I was thinking about
being bad
I was thinking about
not fitting
I was thinking about
who I am
But none of this
Is about anger
Although maybe
I do have a rage
with the world
And if I'm
none of these things
Am I nothing

I think maybe
I see it as a game
As not real
But I don't really see it
As winning or losing
And I don't really like
People very much
Or this life
It doesn't m...

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Liquor, such a licentious name,

I hear it whispered on TV,

my hair stands on end.

I move the bottles out of sight,

to negate their seductiveness.

They cry to be held or treasured.

The weakness of wine glasses,

resonating when they are washed.

They are true to their purpose at least.

I pour a scant amount,

measuring with molecular like precision.

I swig it back with...

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In the middle of the night,

where the stars shine so bright,

the moon hangs low in the dark mass.

I sit alone in the shivery air,

out I stare at all the little lights,

dreaming of the future,

worrying of the present,

reminiscing of the past.

Tired as I am, I refuse to sleep,

for it's a beautiful night, the stars shine so bright.

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You weigh in my mind

Like the feather that tipped the scale

Your presence lingers where you sat

And spoke

And lay

And laughed

You have consumed me

I lay here knowing

You once lay there

Knowing you lay sleeping

Far from me

Knowing soon is your waking hour

Though I have yet to sleep

As though to dream

Would be to miss my thought...

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YOU STOP TIME

Time heals

Time kneels

Too quick

Too fast

Too slowly

Over painful moments

Quicker…

At the moments

We want to last

It opens the day

And closes our eyes.

And I’m happy at

Every beat of our day

And the moments

Spent…

In your eyes

© David R Mellor 2015

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Aimlessly appreciating

Ruminating

Pontificating

Without artifice

Towards any feeling

Of malpractice or discontent

Endlessly trying

Forever tying myself in knots

Thoughts travel through my head

Without a start

Middle or an end

Continually contemplating

A cacophony of silence

Of elongated pregnant pauses

Unpopular and long forgotten

Washed up ca...

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Reverse psychology that pro-tobacco, when recruiting black market take no risk, just ribbon the brand easiest on the tongue, menthol, Jordan, Trojan, say it makes you the hardest, reruns of a nigga in some swoops, a cancer in them streets with cancer in them lungs, that black on black, Benz, rims, tint, a nine to the skull if caught slippin', so irrelevant the reaction to the crime is "yeah that s...

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The muse can be found
In high places
Where through the back door 
You can see the ground though the floor of the balcony

A precipice runs along to the front door
The muse can be found in remote places
Where and when you would never
Choose to go

Vertigo and other things heavy 
Headed for the other side
Into the air
Falling like a Mary hail

Theres no bell at the front door
Up...

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Call me an oppressor;
I slurp the shame like dick
sucked by the women I watch
especially when it stops being sexy
(flip to a poem about the trail of tears)
enough guilt in my ancestry
to melt any erection.
Turn ons:
Getting caught in the act.

I seize opportunities for guilt.
As a vegetarian, I am first to volunteer
at the chance to kill an animal.
As a white man, I rush off
to post-...

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I was lost among the old junk,
in the farthest of corners, when
I heard a clock ticking away.

It had a rhythm of its own,
though the ticks were separate
it appeared to echo instead,

and when I watched the clock face,
the second hand would twitch a bit
before jumping to the next notch.

'Must be a pice of junk,' I thought,
then I looked down and checked my watch,
and it read the sam...

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Each prick of conscience

every mistake

present themselves to me

one by one

at 4 a.m.

When I should have stuck to my guns,

when I should have pulled out,

when I should have said something

and not been full of doubt.

Should I have written what I did

when online last night?

What kind of reply may it get?

And who will be in the right?

Turn over,

punc...

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Oh,
Daydreams,
They came back
But the fantasy was gone

They were alive only at night
Frightened of daylight
Moon captured them as the stars

If you saw the stars tonight
Then know
They were my dreams once
Now all I have is ashes
Not from smoked cigarettes or burned houses
But from my bones
What became broken
While my heart was trying to escape.

Read more …

Gatekeeper

All seeing eyes
Guardian of the gate,
Sat atop
the stairway of skins.
Sewn together
with satyr hair.
Counting the days,
ticking them off
in a parchment book
with a pen on a string
twined with spider thread.

Sits in the sunlight
and watches the workers
to-ing and fro-ing
like ants on a hill
with their own little tasks,
while he has no legs,
just sits in a chair
wei...

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His eyes run red

As his beating heart.

A thing of myths--

The antlers his art.

Long hind legs

In thicket he’ll hide,

Dignified and

Terrified.

Never to be seen

By any one or thing,

Each point a prize

For hunters to sling.

And that’s why the jack

Remains in the deck.

To lope is freedom,

But exposure is death.

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Asleep,
So soon?
How quietly
You breathe.
How almost
Imperceptible
The gentle rising
Of your breasts

Outside
The trees
Are absolutely still.
And motionless
Wide continents of cloud
Have hidden the moon.
Somewhere
The murmur
Of a pebbly stream
Croons continuously 
While, from afar,
Muffled along a lonely motorway,
The sound of a passing traveller
Purrs,
Then fades.

G...

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If only

I could put

the words

I want to hear

in your mouth

what wonderful things

you would say

to me

and how beautifully alive

the dream would be

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I still look for funny shaped clouds,

In the big blue sky

I still hold my hand out, in the rain,

Droplets dancing a merry downhill dance,

I still wave to strangers as I pass them by,

To never see them again

I still look up at the well lit 27th floor,

Wondering who lives there, if they're happy,

Wondering if they've eaten or made love,

Wondering if they're wondering about...

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Atem

Offenem Mund,

Ich kann nicht.

Meine Brust ist schwer.

Erstickenden

(English Translation)

Breathe

Open mouthed,

I cannot.

My chest is heavy.

Suffocating

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The Abyss

Why would you jump into the dark swirling abyss?

Absolutely no proof

but you got swallowed into it

You could have turned away

but you got hypnotised

by the small glistening colours

of twisted jealousy & lies

A well of swirling black

With odd colours here and there

That is the temptation

That will call you there

Once the black engulf...

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Running, pacing, fleeing from these thoughts..

staying out of the dark and just thinking alone.

struggling to find a way to even do this on my own..

i see the bad guy.. its just a stare down in my mirror..

a moment of silence and its like nothing was clearer.

theres no way in hell im walking out of this a winner,

So i guess ill be a sinner and just try to take the river..

i do...

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When, whatever you want

I'm here for you, always near

In any circumstance.

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In the quiet corner

Where the rocks meet the water

Is a pile of hopeful dreams

Scattered between the leaves

The dirt

The crevices of the rock

Brought there by the ones

With broken dreams

With broken promises

With broken hearts

In the hope of being mended

Consoled

By the ones who know their pain

There’s something about the quiet corner

Where the rocks ...

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She squints and glares, fixed on you
Eagle eyed, she wanders through.
The cries and spiels and sobs you say
Don't connect, are moved away.

Differing the false from fact
The eyes cant play part in the act.
It's them she stacks her frame around
Separating sight from sound.

She wiped a hole and delved down in
Stopped to turn at every sin.
Rooting as your soul projects
With every truth ...

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Our Beloved Divine Mother,

How she asks of us to feel safe enough to open our Hearts once again, it is through having it shattered time and time again that the light of our Spirit may enter into the deepest of wounds.

To illuminate the corners of our Soul where darkness has roamed.
It is through having our hearts shattered and cracked open that the chamber of her Wisdom and Knowledge may be...

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Sorry if this not good, I have not wrote in a long time.

The feeling of supernatural protection from the Gods, and this Valkyrie.

That enters your dreams, and talks to you like a friend.

You see her beautiful armor, and this glorious shield, and a shiny sword with runes carved on it,

Looks firece, but holds you like a mother.

Strokes your hair when you are worried, telling you eve...

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When my hands begin to tremble

You’ll place your hand in mine

When my eyes become hollow

That you’ll gaze into them

When I’m at a loss for words

You’ll kiss me so the silence

Can speak for the both of us.

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Beautiful Stranger

Train passenger

Uneventful boredom

Till opposite

Beautiful stranger.

Sparkling eyes

Youthful complexion

Kissable lips

Sunshine fiqure.

See through

Tight jumper

Smiling boobs

Guilty stare.

Ice breaker

Simple words

Fumble out

Hello there.

Fluttering lashes

Sexy signal

Body movement

Adjusting posture.

Sensual perfume

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Radical-force-of-nature performance poet/musician Attila the Stockbroker celebrates the 35th anniversary of his first gig with the publication of his autobiography ‘Arguments Yard’  in September 2015 .

Launched into public consciousness by legendary Radio One DJ John Peel in 1982/83, he has spent 35 years touring the world as a self sustaining  DIY one man cottage industry, performing well...

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Heaven help me

If I believed in that sort of thing

But alas all

That seems real is death and glue and gin

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The prompt from our writing group was to write an ode to your favourite fruit, this is my attempt, and it's a true story too...

I quite like raisins

Except for the one that got stuck up my nose

The more I sniffed and snorted

The further up it rose

My mum couldn't ease it out

She just forced it up even higher

She took me to the neighbours

And tried to use some plie...

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THE DAY BEFORE VALENTINE'S

Is this ritual or adventure

See how quickly

The words are written

No longer anonymous

Is this a box to check

A form to fill

A contract to renew

An essential procedure

The mind indifferent

Even irritated but....

The heart restless

Insistent that this

Is not an option

Ink on cardboard

Flesh on flesh

One forever...

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His name is Jeff.  He’s a chef.

How can you tell?  By his trousers of course.

When he puts on those checky trousers he’s no longer just Jeff,

But, Jeffry, like his Mam used to scream, making herself hoarse

At his idleness, lethargy, laziness, now all in the past

Since a chef he’s become, even though it’s self-classed.

Doesn’t wear one of them tall ‘ats though.

He tried on...

Read more …

The color through the trees,
Where is the guarantee
The only way for absolute
Might not be what your are hoping for
Might not be what you are living for
The instant that can last forever
The feeling that can last forever
It's a myth and it can take your soul
We sacrifice so much for feeling whole
What is today will not be tomorrow
We have forgotten the adventure
The surprise
It's what ...

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LOOK WITHIN YOUR INNER SELF,

AND YOU MIGHT FIND SOME MENTAL HEALTH.

YOU LIVE A LIFE THAT TRULY SUCKS,

YOU BRING UPON YOURSELF BAD LUCK.

IMMITATE LOW SELF ESTEEM,

TRY AGAIN WHEN YOU GET CLEAN.

THE TIME IS NOW SO DO IT RIGHT,

DO SOMETHING FOR YOURSELF AND FIGHT.

STUPID PUPPET -  DANCE ABOUT,

SELF RITEOUS MAN -  ABUSE AND SHOUT.

THE ONES YOU HATE ARE NOT TO BLA...

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Silent truth

And a thousand eyes smile for those who know what love is.

Such a smile could never be traced over lips.

For lips they show emotion as gates to guarded words.

As barriers to the unspoken breath.

But the eyes, the eyes, the eyes, the eyes.

Are not indulged such a protection.

Shining silently like stars.

A light adorns their gentleness.

Contorti...

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This one was inspired by my mate who, unwittingly, compressed all my thoughts into one short line.

We lived in a small town and the only way out was by bus, the last bus home was at Midnight and the journey to town took a long time, hence the journey became part of the adventure. Then into our teens it was a life line to the city center gigs, clubs etc.

Years later we were speaking about the...

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“Above the Skyline”

A Short Story

By: Alysa Hatcher

“Goodnight mom, I love you” Misty Exclaims as you can hear her mother repeating the sentence, adding in,

“Don't you stay up late again, you've been late for school two days now!”

“Okay!” She barks back slamming and locking her door. She leans against it, reflecting on her thoughts for a split second. “It’s spring break, not t...

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the banksy blues single....poem

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Trisha M. Hopkins
March-15-1994/June-12-2013
Dedicated to my mother Christine Barrek
I love you mom 

I remember Back then 
When i was a kid
The memories i hold
On everything i did
And the stories my mommy told 

Tucking me into bed
Saying sweet dreams love you and don't let the bed bugs bite
Then before leaving the room 
She'd kiss me on my forehead
And i'd reply with "love you and...

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Before the blood

that has time to seep;

before the shock of

sliced flesh;

of contracted muscle;

before the realization of

the truth of the pain to come;

there is a moment

when mortality is felt

most keenly-

all else derives from

its recovery.

...

words and foto: Tommy Carroll

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JB!

His inner distress

encompassed me

I sat silent

unable to console

comfort

or offer solace.

He means the world to me

yet is unable to see

his beauty.

Amazingly creative

gentle, warm and kind.

My heart cries out to him

locked inside his detached mind.

Frustrated, depressed, alone

trying to relate

a world of confusion

struggles to understand

wh...

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Driven sick of fame today

Fuelled by tacky magazines with nothing to say

Driven insane by things I see

Stuck in a hole by celebrity apathy

A-listers claim their right to riches

Turning them into divas and conceited bitches

Not enough to pose woodenly in front of a lens

But to sign contracts from the gullible to suit their ends

Celebrity today is purely cheap

La...

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     In the car at night I start to stroll down the dark narrow road. I look out my window and see nothing but darkness, not one street light in sight. I keep driving, I look out my window again this time I see a little girl maybe around the age of 8. I pull over to ask if she needs a ride home, she doesn’t answer. I ask her again if she needs a ride home. She turns around and I can’t help but scr...

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Singing the same old song,      We get by, we get along,     Not too many quarrels,        Gotta keep the peace,      Sometimes wishing for a war,       It would be a relief.      This dull life,     dogs dinner of a day,      What to do to make the blues wash away This must be what any murderers are thinking,        No beer for the drinking,         No pot for the smoking,    No religion for the ...

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At my foot
who spilt Twelve Pins
northeast of Roundstone?
Everyday rainfall on sharp-peaked
metamorphic rock, sandstone
produces trickles, streams pools
wide-bottomed valleys,
too hard to be a pin-cushion.

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Old sense of exhilaration

for the spirit to soar free

To be one with elements

on an aimless kind spree

No destination so to say

nothing planned as such

Tad touch of spontaneity

& escapade a sole crutch

Legs straddling untamed

not broken in yet mount

Uncertain of the outcome

and what it’ll tantamount

Timidity all but vanished

 onc...

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old leaves
follow
the curve
of the water
and now
that the rain
has ended
the trees bend
their branches,
heavy with the push
of the fading season,
towards the shadows growing
in the long
fingers of the grass

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A life wasted

no one can see it

between four walls

regret fills the empty room

he who is orange

he who can’t go anywhere

he who has lost his innocence

I see orange

rules against his words

colour is a disadvantage

orange is the one being discriminated

voices full of thirst and wanton ideas

they threaten the quietness of fighters

those who fight for r...

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2am and I am 
Looking out of a window into the cold dark night
of a day that I hardly remember.
Never knowing if I am truly awake or still dreaming
never seeming to understand the way of things.
The night sings of the unknown, of voices in shadows
and thoughts never formed as they scream out truths 
that no man should ever hear.
I fear those truths beyond any doubt and beyond the world I k...

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We exist on the clock
a meander in the changing river
I clutch at air but it’s gone
the sand of the banks
slips through my hands
my hands
flow all over you

There is a magic I think we should birth
there is a magic I think you’d regret not knowing
and yet we look the other way
as those sands flow…
as those sands flow through…

We tussle on the floodplain
blowing leaves caught by the...

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Had a bad dream last night.
Our eyes met,
from you a half-smile, then
we joshed and jostled for a while,
a chaste but tender intimacy,
dissolved into nothing
by the cold night, and
with the soft snoring beside me
came back the bitter memory
of that final cruel put down.
 

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The remains of a day                                                              

lie extinguished, discarded,

disregarded by the passers-by.

Silver-tipped echo of a mouth

unremarked upon

and common

in its everyday normality.

Evocatively comforting

in stained familiarity;

an endless capability

for rainbow possibilities

of shining eyes and laughter l...

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My Old Tin Bath This old tin bath of mine. Is know full of holes as I don't have the time to fill these holes. As this old tin bath as know been taken away by the rag and bone man who gave me sixpence to replace the old tin bath Where it was placed on cinder blocks (breeze blocks)were Er-in-dors lights the hot coals To keep the water warm as I lay here in my old tin bath in t...

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