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Poetry |
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Hull Local Poetry Lines of Life - Part Six (2/3)
By Paul England
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(1/3)
(2/3)
(3/3).
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I've got painted pictures
That you just cannot see
Locked inside my mind
The painted picture a true Van Gogh
That no-one will ever find
I never asked for this
Or the truth that I have seen
Alone in dreams at night
Inside myself I scream
Please someone let me out
'Cos the bars have locked me in
I cannot feel my soul
I only feel my sin
For these painted pictures haunting me
For his eyes look down so deep
In the silence of the night
As the floorboards sound a creak
I can no longer see his face
Just a shadow in the night
I no longer call his name
But these pictures why I write
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So J started coming round but after a bit he came egged up in a car trying to take his son. I said no and told him to fu** off. I rang his mams and told her to tell him not to
come back 'cos I'll batter the prick.
You see at this time I was just smoking loads of pot, trying to blank Mike out my head but the truth is I can still see his face like it was just yesterday. I stayed in all the time, I just sank deeper and deeper. I became lost and lonely like the child I once was.
So the months drifted by and my son was born for the first time since Mike had passed away. I felt like I had something to live for, I was still smoking pot all the time but my son still made me smile.
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A baby is born
Into your world
A boy he brings
He's like a pearl
Those tears of joy
Run down my face
The gods above
Have blessed my place
This child he brings
With love and joy
Nothing will compare
With you my baby boy
Time passed by and our lass got offered a house near to where her family lived, so she took it. I was down still and I never went out at all. I started writing poetry so that I could say what I felt. It seemed to do some good, it seemed to stop me bottling it all up inside.
I smoked that much pot that I ended up in debt for it, the kid I got it off was sound, he used to come round for a brew and a chat. One day I saw him and he asked me if I wanted a bit of work. He said I'll come round and we'll have a chat about it.
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Copyright ©2007 Paul England |
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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
Read more...
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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
Read more...
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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
Read more...
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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
Read more...
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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
Read more...
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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
Read more...
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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
Read more...
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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
Read more...
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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
Read more...
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Poetry - Walking To Campus In Winter By Sam Earp
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Walking to campus
I longed for You
Through veiled eyes,
In knotted trees,
I tried to rustle
From leafless branches
Truth's void asylum...
Read more...
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Poetry - The Likes Of You And Me By Del Abe Jones.
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I just hope all the People
Find some Logic in their Heart
And use their Minds a little bit
Well now, that would be a Start!
I hope they see the Voting Booth
As a place to show their Will
Read more...
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Poetry - Night Fishing By Mike Watts
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Buzzing in the heat of clubber's breath
My senses pinball from arse to arse
As they shake and crash around me.
Stilettoed feet shuffle and stamp
As I scan an electric duo
Boogieing beneath skirts
Read more...
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Poetry - Sales Pitch From Personality Suits Inc. - The Quickest and Easiest Way To a Guaranteed New You (Results may vary) By Joe Hakim
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Get yourself a new
personality suit
for each day of the week,
an instantaneous freak,
just add water and
give no quarter
in your attempt to
Read more...
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Poetry - The Physics Of Fireworks By Lee Cassanell
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Everything burnt before matches were purchased
Love falls apart in a room fully furnished
Lies kiss our cheeks and pour wine in our glasses
Eyes on the sky see the future in splashes
She sits in the mist as the jester mulls over
The words on his lips and
Read more...
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Poetry - And a Latter Day Tale of Slavery to Political Correctness The Abuse of Human Rights By Carol Coiffait
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Dear Mr. Wilberforce,
A young man is cast out of your city of Hull, Sir
like a common felon because his time is up
and his face doesn`t fit, an arbitrary judgement
as I think you would admit.
In all the best fairy tales, the hero works hard
in a humble job for seven years,
Read more...
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Poetry - Mozart's Last Stand By Lee Cassanell
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I never died on that Viennese day
I crawled out of the pit, shook the lime from my hair
Said a prayer for the souls of whose bodies lay bare
In the blood and the mud of their pauperish graves
I would not pray again
For no God would allow
Read more...
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Poetry - Ben By Laura Fry
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The little things that mean so much
The reassurance of your kisses
Tender sensations at your touch
The eternal thrill of being called Mrs
Used and deceived so many times
Destitute and broken-hearted
Read more...
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Poetry - Jazz Hands By Lee Cassanell
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See the weight of the world in the breath of a girl puffing rolled cigarettes by the wayside
She's a slip of a thing but Oh Lord she can sing any song for a piece of your change.
I saw her last week with my tongue in my cheek I said 'What would you do for a fiver'?
She replied with a wink
Read more...
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Poetry - Mummy Dearest By Maurice Fairfield
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The pretty little butterflies
Are dancing o'er the waterfall
The little birds are tweeting
And the baby lambs are bleating
And from a little way away
I hear the sound of kids at play
Oh what a lovely lovely day
Read more...
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