The knife where is the knife?
My knife my knife
Gotta cut gotta cut.
See the blood then I'm alive
Running red, running free
Running scared away from me.
That window's open, the
Curtain drawn once again.
What poor creature lies shaking with-in
Then, it was I screaming behind glass
Now I scream silent, cold at last.
How can it be standing there?
Side by side with another
White window frames peeling
Just like all the others.
Why do I want to peer inside?
Try the handle to the door when
Before I made good my escape.
Now I'm back outside watching in wait
Would I run and hide, if he came outside,
if a face appeared at the glass?
Would I stare back? Defiant
Eyes held fast.
Look upon this place with
Fresh eyes and know
The horrors inside are
Never on show. For this house
Holds a secret of vengeful lust
Echoing cries remain till
Both are buried, beneath dust.
Where is she, where is she?
Why doesn't she come home?
She shouldn't be out there
All on her own.
She has to stop cutting
She must she must.
Why does she hate
Herself so much?
Gotta cut gotta cut
Jus gotta cut
Gotta cut gotta cut
I hurt so much.
Run to my side too late
As I lie dying. Bloodstained angels
Protecting me with wings spread wide bringing
Everlasting peace, now I lay me down to sleep.
shit like that
I agree it's noble
and I try to live my life
Poetry - Ebb and Flow By Ian Grantham
cool, cold current
swirls round numbed ankles,
distant visions float
which to reach for,
which to avoid
Poetry - Everybody Do The Bandwagon By Joe Hakim
Come swooping in
like vultures around the carcass of a
beast lying dead in the desert -
lizards crawling between the teeth
of its rictus grin -
smile for the camera baby.
Trying to get involved in 'scenes'
Poetry - When You Add It All Up by Jim Higo
Ernie without Eric,
10 without Bo Derek,
A diocese without a cleric,
Scottish football without Berwick.
There's really not much point.
The thoughts of Tony Blair,
Poetry - Stuck in a Continuous Loop by Joe Hakim
Stood in the phone box
drunk as fuck
tray of kebab meat in my hand,
dead lambs' eyelids and sphincters
Poetry - You gotta you gotta you gotta go to Yo-Yo By Michelle Dee
Dancing and drinking blackcurrant and ice
Not lager or spirits it doesn't feel right.
Stamped the back of my hand,
at the front door, how could we riot
when our feet won't touch the floor.
Some come to sit alone, in dark shady corners.
Poetry - Ripped To Shreds By Joe Hakim
It's on the back of a bad night
-one of the fuckin' worst
-the dealers are new,
and the players
are mean tonight,
the hunger making them
Poetry - Across The Sea By Maurice Fairfield
If you ever go across the sea to Cuba
If only at the closing of your days
You can sit and watch the moon rise on Havana
The sun go down on Guantanamo Bay
To see the guards, the guns, the razor wire
The prisoners in their cages turning grey
Poetry - Discovering a Horrible Truth while Dumping the Rubbish By Joe Hakim
Moved into this new place-
another momentary sanctuary,
it's in the town centre
-no wheelie bin,
I didn't know what
Poetry - The Short Goodbye (Portrait of the Artist as a Young Bum) By Maurice Fairfield
The door she left through when she left
Was firmly closed but not quite slammed
Her steady step upon the stair
Suggested that his hopes were damned
He glanced around the dingy flat
The faded curtains, threadbare rug
Poetry - A Wake-Up Call By Del Abe Jones.
We have what is known as FEMA
And our "Homeland Security"
The Military, State and Feds
In case of, such a tragedy.
And we also have a President
Poetry - Our Tsunami - 30th August 2005 By Del Abe Jones.
The force of Mother Nature
Has washed upon our shore
With a fierce, hellish fury
Like we've never seen before.
Homes and businesses flooded
By tens of thousands, maybe more
Poetry - Sierra Leone by Lee Cassanell
Pieces of Carbon
For God and the bible
For profit and privilege we reap
A fistful of diamonds
Reducing proud lions
To lost and degraded black sheep.
Poetry - High Noon in Washington By Patrick Henry
High Noon strikes in Washington where George W. rules okay,
Top man in the Wild West where freedom comes by gun law.
From Tombstone to Dallas they'll shoot you if you cross
The wrong way their highway not their way,
And fry you like burgers in the electric chair.
Poetry - Single, yet not alone By Miss Newton
What a great feeling
Being here alone
Books, wine and fags
And the dangerous mobile phone
Options are open
Kisses may be stolen
Poetry - Love Among The Ruins by Maurice Fairfield
When first you swam into my life
I knew that I was hooked
I knew that I was caught at last
My goose was really cooked
I thought that I'd thrown in my hand
My playing days were over
Poetry - Storm in Western Cemetery By Tim Jarvis
Drums in the canopy pounding,
Rain fists on timpani leafs roar.
Looking up from James Henwood's stone,
Awestruck beneath the thundering dome.
Too soon the fat drops will come,
Falling on the Madonna and I.
Poetry - The day the bombs went off by Lee Cassanell
I watched my Dad explode last week
I couldn't help but laugh,
He'd bought an almond cake for tea and paid for a new bath
My mother cried
And so did I
He had a leek and tatty pie
Poetry - Port of Call By Patrick Henry
Sailor home from the sea, soldier back from the war,
Who are you? This has never been told
To those meant to be nearest, or even yourself
Through wild years playing your part round the world.
Tinker, rover, soldier, sailor: all set deep in your Northern race;
Poetry - The Cup That Cheers By Patrick Henry
The reds, the underdog team they were up
For the Final night of the Europe Cup.
We wished them the best backing Liverpool,
The rough old port where hope was born,
Where you'll find no trees nor scented breeze,
Nor fields of waving corn;