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Poetry |
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The Godfather Of Cool
By Nicholas Boldock
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The easy-skunkin', acid-funkin' Godfather Of Cool
With eyes like strobes in velvet robes this mover ain't no fool
The finger-flippin', midnight-trippin' Minister for Bass
With discs on slicks and mixing tricks he'll keep it in its place
With eyes on stalks and drunken walks the kids are all alright
Make no mistake the techno breaks will carry them all night
At ten-to-4 an open door a magnet for the breeze
An after-show a blast to go with hash in place of E's
The pupil-smokin', furnace-stokin' Goddess of the Dawn
With wanton looks she licks and sucks, a concubine reborn
The vision clearing, daylight nearing, consciousness is in
The bass-bin-bootin', trombone-tootin' reggae's wearing thin
The jawbone-achin', spirit-breakin' comedown can't be beat
So there you stay to face the day asleep in someone's seat
The vivid nightmare stays in sight where once you dreamed of bliss
The Jack & Jill's and nightly thrills, there's nothing else but this
I can't deny that you're the guy, to do so would be cruel
The easy-ridin', dancefloor-slidin' Godfather Of Cool.
© Nicholas Boldock, 2003
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Poetry - Equal Amongst Giants (Edinburgh Literature Festival) and Night Driving in American Werewolf Country.
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by Oz Hardwick
I paid my money, listened attentively,
clapped politely, filed out slowly,
stood (vaguely embarrassed), waited in line
with book at the ready to meet The Author.
I asked him to sign my favourite chapter,
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Poetry - Girls (for Rebecca and Ellen) and Pilot
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By Nigel Walker
Girls, girls
slow down !
I don't know what to write.
It will take one hundred hours
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just to say how I feel about
the sound of your feet on the stairs.
Each morning you are a fresh oyster prised.
The crash of tsunami. The prow of a hunting ship.
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Poetry - Thoroughly Post-Modern Millie & Conspiracy
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By Jane Foster
I'm thoroughly post-modern Millie.
I'm having such a ball.
I've got 15 personas
But no-one loves them all..
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I'm thoroughly post-modern Millie.
I've eaten all the men.
I swallowed all life gave me
And threw it up again.
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Poetry - The Seventies and Back Burner Men By Jane Foster
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The Seventies were great.
You could bounce on your space hopper.
It was OK to ask a girl
To come sit on your Chopper.
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A man had just walked on the moon.
The Beatles had just split.
Together they were beautiful
But separate they were shit.
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by Lee Cassanell
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I could not be more obvious,
It echoes from my eyes,
I'm always semi conscious,
I can't help telling lies.
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My father was a butcher,
My mother easy meat,
I strolled the streets of childhood,
With sandals on my feet.
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By Darren Sant
Excited young faces,
Stick thin legs and untied laces,
Breathlessly chasing the ball,
Youngsters large and small.
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Poetry - "Chemical Love" and "Digit-ull Shitty"
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By Rich Mills
I double dropped before I went in,
Being searched by the doorman put my head-in-a-spin.
I pays me money and am through the door,
Head starts to bob, soon drawn to the dance-floor.
Then through throbbing heart and a tribal beat,
Two pairs of dilated rolling eyes briefly meet.
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Poetry - "Obsession" By Nadie.
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I would ride madness
like the loins of a lover,
cast myself into Hell
even sleep with my brother.
I would swallow poison
and swear it was like nectar,
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Poetry - "OCTOBER MOON" By Nikki Sheppeck
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A beckoning dark October sky,
That bares a crescent moon to shine,
Amongst a star lit evening sky,
A clarity so clear so calm
Sets a scene from tree tops high.
Enchanted by angelic skys,
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Poetry - "Needle Whore" and "Divorce Number 2"
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By Rich Mills
Down the corridor and through the door,
There lives nothing more than a needle whore.
All his pathetic rock-star dreams,
Are slowly coming apart at the seams.
With song lyrics full of false metaphor,
He's a one-man psychological war.
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Poetry - The Big Issue
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By Darren Sant
He stands in the pouring rain,
Ignored again and again,
Biting wind chills his bones,
People rush to their warm homes.
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Poetry - Drink, by Shelly D.
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Drink in the morning,
drink at night.
Drink in the dark,
drink in the light.
Drink from the bottle,
drink from the can.
Drink like a fish,
as only you can.
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Drink at work,
drink at school.
Drink in the pub,
drink like a fool.
Drink while you're dancing,
drink when you're stoned.
Drink at your wedding,
drink 'cos your boyfriend
never phoned.
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Poetry - The Last Cigarette.
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by Lee Cassanell
There's a place I once knew
That no longer exists,
But I still smell its smoke in my hair
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