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Poetry |
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Last Updated: 24/05/2007 14:17:04
About a year passed and my dad had met this bird, Sue. After a month or so she was moving in while we were getting pushed out. My dad had said that we would always come first but he lied.
I remember one night I started arguing with Sue. I called her a silly cow and my dad grabbed me round the neck. I ran out and I said 'I'm going to my mams'. Our Gemma came with me, our Dave stayed with my dad, our Mike got his own place with his bird who was having his kid and he started selling pot.
You see, in the year I'd lived with my dad he didn't buy us a thing. I didn't even have a school uniform 'cos he pissed all the money up the wall. So my mam got a bigger place, me and Gem moved in with her and her bloke Kev. He was a bit of a dick but he was not a problem.
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A Child Who Came So Pure
As I lay and dream at night
Why do I think so deep?
For is that just my soul
That I see within my sleep
What is this world about?
Why do we live to die?
Where is the God we doubt?
Why is the sky so high?
For them still taking life
Knowing we're all the same
But a human life is priceless
Can God now feel my pain?
For my pain still bears the scars
For a poor man's just so weak
Why are a child's mistakes?
Inside these words I speak
As children still die today
But they just need a meal
For all the greedy people
Just imagine how they feel
So where is your love for life
For this place is just one earth
Where the greatest things come free
Like a mother blessed with birth
This place just seems so crazy
Sometimes I just feel sad
For a child who came so pure
To a world of good and bad
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My old lady tried to get me back to school but by this time I had missed too much to do any good so I left. I only went back for three days, waited till I turned 16 and started looking for a job.
I had moved back down north where all my mates lived. I remember riding about on my push hog every day for about two weeks looking for work, then one of our Jonny's mates got me in at a wood yard backing a saw off.
I used to work with a lad called Huey, he was spot on, I'll always have time for him. If I was to pick a godfather to my son then that would be him. He used to take me round town with him and his brothers, it was sound.
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Copyright ©2007 Paul England |
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Poetry - Paris Is Burning By Patrick Henry
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In '68, students seized Paris to man the barricade;
Copied the '89 Revolution, when Jacobins stormed
The Bastille; guillotined the ruling class to carve a state
Into The Republic, which each new generation remade.
In film, The Cars That Ate Paris, named autos the enemy.
Now 2000 and odd, past boulevards,
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Poetry - Lines of Life - Part Two By Paul England
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At this time I was knocking about with our Phil. He was working 'cos he had already left school. Me, I was always wagging off school and when I did bother to turn up I was just bad. I had three different teachers in my first three years at seniors, I never did my work, I was just a complete pain in the arse.
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Poetry - The Hand That.....By Yellow Bear.
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The hand that heals, should be
gentle, quiet and unobtrusive like
the air, that gently cushions the
leaf as it falls to its source.
The hand that heals, should be
unannounced in its giving, like the hand
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Poetry - Lines of Life - Part One By Paul England
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We all start out the same, young, cocky and we just don't give a fu**. I was no different.
For most my life I lived on North Hull and Bransholme. I've got two older brothers and a younger sister.
I want to start my story when I was 10 years old going on 11. It was coming to the point where
I was starting seniors, times were changing quick. Drugs were coming big again, and
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Poetry - Thank You Friends Reunited By Laura Fry
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Thank you Friends Reunited, for helping me see
That I've actually done rather well
Because almost all those who bullied me at school
Have hardly moved an inch out of the same old suburban hell
They still see all the same old faces
And miss the same old buses
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Poetry - Something Like By Joe Hakim
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It's like the guy asleep in a doorway with
an empty tinnie in his hand.
It's like the hours you spend
staring at the paint peeling from the wall
opposite you because
you can't sleep.
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Poetry - On Getting A Mate A Job By Mike Watts
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He reckons life was wonderful
When he was on the dole
When he had fuck all.
Well now it's a mess
Because there's even less
He's never any dosh
Got a prick for a boss
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Poetry - Then, There Will Be No Hope (VT Massacre) By Del Abe Jones.
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If we don't change the way we do
And learn to do what we don't
If we can't each, honor ourselves
It's a sad fact that others won't
And there will be no hope!
If life isn't treated sacredly
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Poetry - I Hope You Know By Lee Cassanell
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The Jews are killing gentiles
And the world is run by reptiles
Queen Elizabeth herself
Is such a snake
There are UFO's in Roswell
All philosophy is causal
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Poetry - Head Gone By Joe Hakim
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My head's gone,
packed its case and left.
My head's gone,
don't know when I'll see it next.
My head's gone,
it's off to parts unknown.
Read more...
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Poetry - Was Hitler Misunderstood? By The Grunt People Collective.
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Question: Was Hitler misunderstood?
Was all he wanted, to do good?
Protect his people me and you
From the people trying to
Blow us up and chop us down burn our children to the ground
Kill the people, who just might
His methods sure may be extreme
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Poetry - Girl You're A Real Man Now and Take Me Down Your Stream By The Grunt People Collective.
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Being one and the same
Girls got nothing to gain
Fro' tryin' to be a man
Tryin' to be a man
Lovers feel no pain
Rattlesnake in water
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Poetry - Antipodes By Carol Coiffait
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When you went away
the temperature dropped by four degrees.
Clouds conspired to hide all trace of blue.
The bird-box produced three dead coal tits
and every sparrow changed its tune.
I sent your birthday gift
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Poetry - Underground And Inside By Andrew Wastling.
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We are the Diggers and we are Jerusalem,
We are Robin Hood's outlaws with nowhere
To run to.
We are Freedom and the scent in the air,
Of Gerrard Winstanley and Wat Tyler's heirs.
We are not broken for
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Poetry - - Southern European Fashionistas By Laura Fry
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Southern European fashionistas
They really do my head in
With their snotty manner and ten-inch stilettos
That no-one in their right mind would be seen dead in
Trying to get a smile on their faces
Is like trying to jump a ten-metre hurdle
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Poetry - Means To An End By Del Abe Jones.
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Some will say, People for Peace
Who only want the War to end
Are bad for the Troops morale
And the wrong message to send.
But, who more than those Troops
Would like to come home to stay
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Poetry - Navajo Code Talkers By Del Abe Jones.
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In May of Nineteen forty-two
The first of those Talkers came to be
At Camp Pendleton, California
They formed that special "Dictionary".
During the First World War
When the Choctaw was used some
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Poetry - The Gateway To The Soul By Laura Fry
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They say that the eyes say it all
The gateway to the soul, that either repels or enthrals
You know almost immediately that he is the one
The love that you feel for him is second to none
You know that he is the one
When the most boring of tasks can
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