Sprawled like a victim
I shrink on the heat of the bed.
Rattle beneath my window.
Glass shrieks across concrete
As young voices drip,
Go forth and multiply
Idiotic female part.
Crackling on its back
Radio moans of absent cloud,
Evaporation, lowest levels
Now the dog shuffles,
Panting like a foot-pump
He drops with a sigh.
I'm too hot for all this.
On the stairs, a delirious descent
Into the kitchen,
Where the humming fridge's
Sudden flash pokes me
In the eyes.
The tongue climaxes.
At the tap
I waste gallons.
This proud bird parades no vanity
She paddles her feet in the Humber
Muddies her dress to show she's working,
As hard as they'll let her.
Breathing in, breathing out,
A great warehouse, a production line
For the conquerors' of Kings, of
Poetry - The Underdogs Of War-Games By Patrick Henry
8 groups in The World Cup, imagine the worst in each to win
Through to The Quarters, The Semis, or The Final Game.
From defence to attack they might spring up surprising.
What have these minnow nations got going for them?
Talk of red cards, Paraguay once lost five million men
In their big 3-Nations War, facing
Poetry - Aliens Make Great Movies By Patrick Henry
Great old Science-Fiction films are not released today,
When metallic strangers taller than lone cowboys landed to say
Their masters ruled distant weird worlds now at galactic war
With this frail Earth unless we wise up to the danger.
The Capital of Science-Fiction must be The United States.
All those terms together add up
Poetry - Confetti By Tom Gant
You said 'money' isn't the
be all and end all,
but the problem remains,
you don't know me
Peace is the only refuge
Poetry - Pinfold Lane By Lee Cassanell
They built on land where gallows stood
And devils plied their trade,
The hanging gale made killers sway
As craftsmen cut their graves
A Sailors crowd pushed to the front
To see a ship mate dangle,
Poetry - Persona Ingrata By Patrick Henry
From years overshadowed by smart authors, I woke in horror to find
Change gripped me bleak as Kafka's insect or Dr Jekyll's fiend.
Once on the skids in Paris, fleas that clung round my body
I flicked at Sarte's photo in a posh café.
Poetry - Available On Demand By Joe Hakim
Watching a girl
called Erica Yates
on my mate's mobile phone.
'She's from Bransholme,
and on this bit
you can actually hear her moan,'
Poetry - The Cost of Labour By Patrick Henry
No fool, Britannia, never ever slaves since times
They fought for The Truck Acts, The Workers' Vote, the Right for Unions.
Loyal as Coronation mugs, some think Magna Carta put Civil Rights our way:
That job-form for barons who started higher up the tree.
They imagine that The Civil War
Poetry - Decisions By Mike Watts
Disturbed behind bleached white net
Crashing hysterically into the glass,
Should I thump, poison,
Or ignore you?
Buzzing black carrier of filth
Desperate to fly, desirous to feed
Poetry - Earth, As It Is In Iraq By Steve Rudd
What on earth is going on in Iraq?
It isn't even on earth, now
The violence is underground...
as a bomb a day surveys an old scene
from a play, that dropped out of school.
The Bard's lost for words.
Poetry - The Day Off By Mike Watts
On weekend parole I slip the boss
For time and space and candyfloss.
Early, and all the sleeping streets are mine
Except for those on double time;
Sickly crews with post-pub shock
A drink damaged body clock,
As I pass the milk and paper rounds
Poetry - The Battle of Alderman Kneeshaw By Lee Cassanell
I attended Andrew Marvel school from 1990 to 1993 and I have
vague memories of gang fights on Alderman Kneeshaw Park with
Archbishop Thurstan which was a Catholic school on the other side of the hills.
The two schools had been scrapping for decades and in a bizarre way
it was a tradition of sorts.
Much of it was chest beating and bravado but occasionally
Poetry - Nagging Urge By Tom Gant
Would it be so wrong, to
dig me up once I've gone?
Just to steal another glance
of the idle days we passed,
rather than lamenting over
countless dusty photographs.
Poetry - The Rickshaw Termination By Patrick Henry
In Delhi ten years back, time stood still.
Cycles flourished. Cattle grazed the streets.
From morning mist temples loomed vast as heads of gods,
Carved in curves of sun and moon. The sky hot, ethereal.
In dawn's half-light a centaur-shape enters the bare street,
Stealthy as a cat, almost silent but
Poetry - Liquid Reflection By Steve Rudd
From the bottom of the Dead
Sea, to the top of Mount Everest
We go to extremes, only in our best interests...
From A, to B - to be a better person
Night falls too soon, and we're lost out of season
In a region that few tourists
Poetry - The Count of Earlsby By Shep
The shadow falls
Upon the wine glass in his hand
The stones in his throat
Cast no prejudice
Alone he sits
Cold but calm
Poetry - Where Did I Go? By Darren Sant
Shrinking from the light,
Away fleeing into the night,
Scared to get that toe wet,
Too much fear, no emergence yet.
Withdrawn from the race,
Pride only to save face,
Poetry - Tomorrow By A.J. Grant
Life's full of surprises,
Some good some bad, some you wish you never had,
Tomorrow's just another day,
Or so they say.
Tree's are green Grass is to,
Roads are open Shops are to,
Tomorrow's just another day,
Poetry - Ah! But Does Crime Pay? By Mike Watts
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
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'