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Your father is still your father. Love him and forgive him as a young child.
The way you were in expectant, resolute delight of his arms around you.
Your father is still your father in his audacious crime of falling in love.
I, his Pygmalion’s statue, his muse, his mistress, his little goth whore,
you see me as nothing better than shit on your kitchen floor
before gathering round the ...

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Star Children's Dust
It's a wing. A wing from an alien space craft. Almost as old as time. Nothing but a relic now, a ruin. They used to steal people off Earth. Millions of them. Abducting them against their will. None of that matters now. Earth was burnt to a cinder nine billion years ago. Its sun went supernova. More powerful than they thought it would. Earth based science was basic. That w...

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Streetlights

slanted through blinds

and made the wall

a television.

We dived beneath sheets

as the bedroom

was uncarpeted,

the central heating

didn't work

and the nights

were freezing.

It wasn't quite our dream

because only we weren't naked

(wearing

warm but unappealing

winceyette pyjamas)

or blessed by the sun

and life soon in...

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ThePoetry Spoke returns -

Thursday the 5th of September - 8pm!  

This time around it’s Open Mic

&  Guest Poet - Pete Slater!

 

Gallagher Pub & Barbers

20 Chester Street

Birkenhead

Wirral

CH41 5DQ

 

Of our Guest -

 

Pete Slater’s poetry does not drive buses, it is not accidental.

It can be mental, temperamental and eventful.  It has been kn...

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I look at you

You don’t look back

You can’t hear what I’m saying

Blinkered, you start to backtrack

Into your world of playthings

 

I wish you’d join me

You never know what you might see.

A thousand fountains – a million forms of ecstasy

A trillion ways to make your brain cells dance

But you won’t even try, your pupils are too blind

 

I’ll speak to

...

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from between the leaves

the shafts fall and draw

a hundred golden atria

shining through

the stained organics

of liquid glass

to the cloistral faithful

swimming beneath

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Highly plastic

undifferentiated

capable of becoming

ready for transformation

for self-renewal without rejection.

Multipotent, pluripotent, totipotent.

Potent.

Straining with potential.

Quivering with power

for endless differentiation

for blessed regeneration.

 

What would it be

to be a stem cell?

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MORRISSEY

 

He’s not a god

But growing up in the crumbling north

He was more…

 

Whilst Wham blasted out Club Tropicana

And flags waved our troops home

He reminded me that you don’t have to be a thug to be a man, and to read is a blessing not a curse

 

He’s not a god

But growing up in the crumbling north

He was more

 

Made me stop

Think

...

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...

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So sayeth the Slater .......................

THE PROVIDER. 
I am the lord of the storm
And I will make you reform 
Make you change your ways
I am the sound of rolling thunder
I can split your world asunder
And I will drag you under
Unless you change your ways
I am the rider on the lightning
Feel, the noose is tightening
Consider and be enlightened
Listen, and change y...

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Anger consumes me

Eats my soul like cancer

Self inflicted hell

 

Woman in mirror

Who is this old person

OMG it's me

 

A ghostly soldier

Wife and babe are alone

Price of Freedom

 

Mimes make rhymes

Sure Mimes can make rhymes

Who'd hear it

 

The many criticisms

Crash on me like thunder

Endure the storms

 

A hollow vic...

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The Thief of Creation

 

…………a trillion years in the making –

We’re staking our claim to this ball,

     But there ain’t nothing left of

The green and the blue,

For it’s all become degraded

Material going back to soup,

A life-cycle finished

By greed and industry, commerce

And we’re diminished of all responsibility

For the death of the Whale

The shr...

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I used to protest on them marches

Arms linked with the Trotskyist host

But now I tune in to the Archers

“Them as lives longest learns most”.

 

I wore all my badges and labels

The shouts and the slogans and words

I learned them just like my times tables

But really I went for the birds.

 

My passion was not allus honest

I carried the requisite books

...

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A slide show of Walmart customers triggered  this acrostic

 

So many people walk through the store
Every one of them unique, wanting more
Excess love of gadgets and household gear
So much in their trolleys they can hardly steer
And we see their pictures on You Tube these days
Wall flowers they are not, but on Walmarters craze

When they reach the check outs they look all a...

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There are wonders that I prize

Like the everchanging skies

Like the restless ocean whispering to the shore

But when your eyes said look at me

You were all that I could see...

And you're all I want to see

For evermore

 

There are loves that I have known

Like the days how they have flown

But I love what the future has in store

Now there's only you and m...

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First Contact

 

an Inca warrior

with arms outsretched

has his prayers answered

as the shadow

of a great bird of prey

straddles the Nazca plains.

 

primitive intelligence

cannot comprehend

the nature of the beast

and it is hailed

as deity

by the natives.

 

they breed

            exchange fluid

                        intermi...

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http://soundcloud.com/ann-foxglove/song-lavender-man

http://soundcloud.com/ann-foxglove/song-lavender-man-with-echo

 

Lavender Man

 

Oh the Lavender Man

He didn’t come today

We stayed in all morning

He didn’t come our way

The sun was so bright

We wanted to go out

But the Lavender Man

He just wasn’t about.

 

Now ladies need their lavender

...

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Newborough Beach (I've heard it said)

is one of those rare places

where you can witness Uncle Fred

in just his socks and braces

 

 

 

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A babe in a cradle

With soft mocha skin

Innocently sleeping

Blameless of sin

 

‘That babe in its cradle,

Consequence of disgrace!’

Blissfully unaware,

Prejudice yet to face

 

Our babe in her cradle

Result of our ‘crime’

Forbidden liaison

No reason or rhyme

 

 

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Published on Poetry24

http://poetry-24.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/upgrade.html

 

 

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Twenty brands of cornflakes

On the supermarket shelf.

A myriad minor choices -

"But is there something else?"

 

Sixty flavours of jam,

A hundred kinds of pop.

Tons of trivial choices -

But only one place to shop.

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A rain of death is falling in Ramses Square

There's something perceptively evil in the air

Perhaps it's the word Moslem

That excuses the eagle from treating them less like men

I saw him, unarmed pleading hands outstretched in front of the tank

The rifle raised these bastards are not firing blanks

What code, what right is invoked that separates crime from state

What t...

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In the end
It meant absolutely nothing
Once the killing
And the butchery started.

The collective voice of 80,000 people
Who had marched
For hours and hours
Meant absolutely nothing
When they were cut down
Like cattle by the score.

Everybody had arrived in a
Disciplined and organised contingent
Like a troop of soldiers
From the hills
And the outskirts
But ran ...

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Perhaps it were as our old men asserted

and National Service was not such a bad thing

or else we were typical Brits abroad -

insecure, neither in love nor at war.

For safety we carried both condoms and cutters,

arriving mob-handed we joined the queue singly

or latched on to others, to escape detection

and perfect the patter; a willing accomplice

increased the cha...

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She zoomed into my zone,

Like a zany zebra,

While I zigzagged across her zodiac,

Like a zonked zombie,

With a zest and a zeal,

We zipped from zero to zenith,

And now forever dwell,

In our zen ziggurat,

Caressed by an eternal zephyr.

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No good news is bad news no bad news is good news

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With homage to Isobel`s `Chlamydia`

 

 

(For the beautifully-breasted actress who rolled over me in the warm-up class)

 

Nadia, Nadia,

I was so glad`ya !

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In secret arbours poetry unfolds,

rattling, winding snake in the grass

 

vibrant gold laminated landscapes glow

shifting the smoke to hold my breath

 

age is a collection of memories,

dust gathered on the mantlepiece

in the space that once held

your photograph

 

sitting on a slope is making me dizzy

wheelchairs, and relatives keeping photogr...

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The Wedding Feast

 

I held the true cross in my paw,

A trinket then and little more,

My hands and those of Constantine,

A first resistance hold the line.

 

St Mark’s stone coffin at my feet,

The round from baptism complete,

His hand in Christ’s this hand of mine,

Yet I resist and hold the line.

 

I read the book, I found it wise,

A thing of tr...

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July was unbearably hot.  Thankfully it is cooler now, but at time though...

 

What’s up with UK weather?
It’s changed beyond all reason?
Where’s the wind and where’s the rain,
Our usual summer season?
Can’t you see I’m British and
I’m not designed for heat.
I need two handy buckets
On my legs instead of feet
There has to be some let-up
And I’m close to desperation
L...

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Here's an updated version of my promo video for my e-book. It's only a couple of minutes long - why not give it a viewing and award it a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down?  I'm selling the book to raise money for rhino conservation.

http://youtu.be/4WCmD3HUQHM

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After all the swallowing and fits

When I’m held hostage on a tram full of tuneless durges

With the dizzying twirl of girls pretending to be lap dancers

And red faces forcing out their final attempts at humour

Spurred on by my goading way of trying to keep out of it

And dragging me up for a conga line

I think- count yourself lucky I am not 20 anymore

Or I would ...

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Words escape me,
I am mute, struck dumb
by the darkness in my mind.

Overcome
by the hatred I reserve
purely for myself.

Incapacitated
by the loathing
pressing on my last nerve.

Freedom
is the light in a tunnel.
I see only black; an empty oeuvre.

Nothing
is good enough,
no words to share my pain.

Words escape me.
Alone, again.

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Hairy Wood Ant

Moist cool world outside

Brown and Yellow dome

Inside

Patterned Pine needles tunnelled

By insect community

Heat and Acid

The Rangers Bluebell litmus test

Turns petals from blue to pink

Ant Life

A crowded busy ordered life

A job for life

A short life

Life stubbed out by a tourist foot

To be

Recycled in the woodland hill

...

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These tears I'm crying,

aren't for you,

but it's so so good,

to be close to you.

 

Sat here taking refuge,

in the newly refurbished shelter,

where we used to play,

before we split.

You were my friend,

when I was at my wit's end.

 

Now time has passed,

I can return here,

to our mysterious magical park,

where our love did start.

 

...

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Today is Thursday.

This is certainly worse than Saturday.

But… It’s much better than Monday!

And… It’s much worse than Friday!

But…Thursday is still better than Wednesday!

Thursday is even better than Sunday!

Do you know why?

What I say is not a lie.

After Sunday always comes Monday.

Hard day, far from being a holiday.

But… after Thursday always comes Fri...

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Ochre, ochre, ochre...

Ochre blotches, betray the dry breath
of June.
As we bring home
the August supplement.

Last week's answers, merely
bring more questions.
And I ask,
why is he so cryptic?

That which thunder keeps at bay...
Heat? Light?
Stagnation...
A stuffed solar shirt.

On TV, the fuzzy grey cross-hatching
swathes our green
and pleasant land
(t...

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“We want to push mankind’s boundaries out a little further.” – Felix Baumgartner
 

Man steps
off suspended
stage punctures
atmosphere’s
soft caul and
tumbles rough
and quick as noise
as gravity’s
elastic yanks
him back to earth
rings his body like
a bell the air
rattles his knee-
caps and the nut
in his skull icy-
drums his lungs
and bowels and
pilf...

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Tongues&Grooves Open Mic at the New Southsea Show on Saturday 4 August 2013

www.tongues-and-grooves.org.uk

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The only thing in life is language

not love, not anything else

Not tears

not laughter

But those things may come after

It's words that matter

Because words come from deep within

because all our thoughts,

all our feelings,

are melted down inside our skin

and from our lips come words,

language,

not love

Not anything else

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This was actually written by my 8yr old son, Aaron Hewitt. He wanted to blog and get your opinions. Thanks guys :-)

There's a monkey on the park

and he's hanging on the bars.

There's a monkey on the park

and he can see Mars!!!!!!!!!

 

There's a monkey on the park

and he's on the roundabout.

There's a monkey on the park

and he heard someone SHOUT !!

 

...

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  Quietly, she spoke of tea, toast, the after smell of cigars,
Let us say we met in a room: curtained, peeling, private.
Briefly she consulted the winter afternoon,
Reviewed the deadening, leadening sky.

It was discreetly done.
No presences danced beyond no lifted curtains.
Darkness had silted us away.

Words, ...

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The police in the Ian Tomlinson case said "sorry" today, which took them a while...

 

                   Kettled

 

It’s in the reductive image that a dead man dies

Again and again; and in the repetition lies

His ghost, a sad, silent accuser demoted

To an extra in his own story. His name’s a word

For headline writers to play with, his

Violent end a fact for la...

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