Of course crime pays silly twat
Ask the druggie in his luxury flat
With a ton of bling dripping from his skin
A new BM and a baseball bat.
Ask the murderer on day release
With his finger raised to the police
Stalking somebody's wife or daughter
Another poor bastard to the slaughter.
Look at the pissed-up hit and runner
Or the sight-destroying pellet gunner
A six months break at Butlinsville
While we soft bastards foot the bill.
Well I say whip 'em, burn 'em
'Cos you'll never learn 'em
Sling 'em all together on a rock
And if she ' did it ' bang her up
If he rapes let's have his cock.
But they won't 'cos they daren't
So fuck all's ever learnt
Well I'm sorry but there's only so much I can suffer.
Mr Judge in your court
(until some cunt slits your throat)
A BAG OF FUCKING TOFFEES 'UD BE TOUGHER.
Poetry - In the Kitchen By Maolsheachlann O' Ceallaigh.
Dawn chews her toast and gazes out
At snowflakes falling through the air.
The comb runs gently through her hair -
Her mother knows how much she hates
The roots pulled at. They think about
The very same thing, unaware,
I sat beneath the willow, and stepped through the looking glass
Long ages, eons passed, suns were born and flamed into supernova, galaxies wheeled at least one revolution around the cosmos, between one moment and the next, as the lake and I had a chat.
Poetry - Reality Shows By Patrick Henry
China is making uniforms for the British Army.
In Aldershot golf clPubs old Colonels go barmy.
Our image and defences gravely threatened.
The Chinks will stitch us up when they lose the thread-end.
Our regiments to look like aliens in the desert war,
And U.S allies to hit them with friendly fire.
When Royal Marines'
Poetry - Just The Way It Is By Joe Hakim
Scraping by on the
my life in a cage,
counting down the days
until I next get paid,
watch the money come in,
watch it fly out again
Poetry - Last No'ell At Scarborough By Patrick Henry
Christmas day comes. I've seen a wilder funeral.
Pubs open their eyes, their doors in morning mist a while;
Pull a free pint if they should remember you.
Then lunchtime's a bad moment if you are a turkey,
A vegetarian or a republican amid the carnage.
It gets no better for anyone by the TV stage.
The Monarch says today
Poetry - The Voyage By Andy Grant
I'm leaving now across the sea who knows to where,
Maybe to an island or distant coastline,
Never touched by man before, there to be explored,
Leaving behind a life so tired with faces missed,
Not knowing if they will be here when I return.
Out of the bay where friends grew up strong,
Passing barges laden with
Poetry - Stop Me And Buy One By Lee Cassanell
His gigantic cone
Caught the light of my eyes
I was five nearly six
When he parked up outside
And I knew from that day
That it's not a bad life
When the sun's on your face
Poetry - A Small Price To Pay By Daphne Liver
My friend said I'm naïve
Because I found it hard
To believe when she said that she'd
Give Gary a blowjob
In exchange for 10 grand.
Apparently, if he
Poetry - Geriatric Blues By Maurice Fairfield
Now all my fellow oldies I hope you're feeling well
Listen what I'm sayin' cause I got a tale to tell
I got the blues, I got the blues. I got the geriatric blues
Joints are creakin' bladder's leakin' teeth are missin'
Havin' trouble pissin,' got the blues, the geriatric blues.
Go spread the news about the blues,
Poetry - Response To Those Who Doubt (You know who you are) By Joe Hakim
Dead from the neck up
taking me to task
for the thing they lack:
a passion that burns
Poetry - Showdown At Flamingo-Land By Patrick Henry
Flamingo-Land is sheer paradise captured in a name.
Exquisite birds turn the trees to fiery flame,
Perching there on a rosy-fingered dawn,
Or at dusk stretching daylight to sublime perfection.
In the wildlife park creatures are good as kept by Noah;
Safe from storm, flood and savagery
Poetry - Thoroughly Lagered-Up Charlie By Jane Foster and Michelle Dee
I'm thoroughly lagered-up Charlie
I'm having such a ball
I've got 15 toilets
But I piss against the wall
I'm thoroughly lagered-up Charlie
I eat out of a box
Poetry - When Frankie Met Prickly By Michelle Dee, Elsie Creek and Jane Foster
Frankenstein's Fanny met with Prickly Pussy
In the middle of a hot, hot day
Prickly told a joke which split Frankie's stitches
And blew her clean away
Frankenstein's Fanny and Prickly Pussy
Went out for a ride
Poetry - The Maritime Museum, Hull By Maolsheachlann O' Ceallaigh.
The recorded cry of some dead whale resounds
Over and over again. Rusted harpoons
Hang from the walls. On winter afternoons
Descendants of past sailors make the rounds
And mouth the names: Diana, Truelove, Swan.
Just syllables now. But children must have thrilled
To hear them, once.
Poetry - THE PRICE WE PAY By Del Abe Jones.
...We're going to stay the course, of course!...
That's what our Pres has always said
We're three years into this crazy War
With nearly twenty-four hundred Dead.
Seventeen thousand wounded folks
At least, that's the official count
With estimates of forty-some thousandRead more...
Poetry - We Are All Cartoons Now By Joe Hakim
Setting up a trap
the immaculate disappointment
capped off with regret,
things we could have
Poetry - Saint Patrick's Day By Del Abe Jones.
The Patron Saint of Ireland
Died in the Fifth Century
On the seventeenth of March
Is that anniversary.
That day is during Lent
When the Irish celebrate
With dance and drink and feast
Poetry - I Remember It Well By Jon Stewart
I met her in Retro
No, it was in Mint I said I was loaded
You said you were skint! Ah yeah...I remember it well.
Said she was from Bransholme
Poetry - Politics On The Dance-floor By Patrick Henry
Cuba's dangerous crocodile-shape looms long and slim
As a laid girl, a good cigar, or Castro's red regime.
A pianist plays Blues out of his back-street door:
An instrument from Chicago that'll send no more;
Nor glitzy Cadillac cabs that take you for a ride
For five bucks anywhere and girls
Poetry - A Popular Theme By Jane Foster
For Michael Cassar 1979 - 2000 A popular theme - the good die young,
With lips unparted, praise unsung,
The ode, the book, the song, the rhyme,
The tale of the young man cut down in his prime,
The turn of the screw, the whizz of the wheel,
The young man dead on a fiver deal.
Poetry - Picking Up Sluts In Retro By Joe Hakim
Me and me mates
were in Retro
and we met these
and we fucked 'em