15 Minutes of Fame

The churches have emptied
The crowds begin to disperse
And into the brothels--
They immerse
There's no doctors or nurses
Medical schools begin to close
Why pay for your degree;
When all you have to do is pose?
But what about the army...
They'll still be recruiting
But let us be warned
They'll all be prosecuiting
Life wont have a purpose
Unless it's in the stars
Concrete astrology
Along the californian boulevard
Forget the teachers
Police and shop-keepers--
When a lifestyle can be bought and sold
We wont need such preachers
And when the streets are empty
And all the doors are closed...
Out will come the rats
And our truths will be exposed

The Unmarked Grave

 

No name
To let us know
Which poor soul's body
Lies below
Is their sleep
Ever eternal
If the body
Is more husk than shell?

Did they have children
A mother or father?
Were they a spouse
Maybe a sister or brother?
How lonely
One must have been
To lay forgotten
Beneath grass no-longer green
A heroic death
Or welcomed perish?
This mystery...
I shall forever cherish
For whom else
Will grieve with me?
For this long-forgetten soul
We shall never meet or know
A story that
Will always be
Echoed through the debris

What I see

Do I see

What others see?

All this that surrounds me...

All the dirt and beauty

The wind, the cliffs

The sun and the sea

A man standing on his own

A women with a coat she's long out-grown

A feather floating by

A school boy on his way home

His mother, hiding bottles

So he'd never know.

And all this time

That ticks silently away

Begins to echo

With each new day

And so I stand in idleness

As the echo's fade away

'We'll sort you out' blues...

They say it'll all be over

In a month or two

You'll be much happier when

You stop feeling the way you do

It all takes time you see

I mean... what did you expect?

Your problems are only ours

When helping you is easy

And by that we mean pills!

Lots and lots of pills...

It doesn't matter if they

Turn your brain to mush

Until you forget your own free-will.

But it'll all be over

In a month or two

And then you can go back

To doing whatever it is that you do...

And then it may start all over again

And there'll be more pills to fix you up

And catch you out of the blue.

Us Women...

This poem is dedicated to two friends of mine, both of whom are called Sophie and are rather amazing people and brilliant feminists!



We are sensitive subjects,

Us women

Almost as sensitive

As our pretty little bodies

Our pretty little minds...

Such revolutions

Will never interest us

Oh no, we're far too innocent

To think such thoughts

The word 'politics'

Just simply isn't in our dictionary...

No, we're much too content

Sitting here, reading women's weekly

To think for ourselves...

The names 'Joan of Arc' and 'Emily Davison'

Are all new to me

We'd rather you know

'Judith Martin' now she

Really is a real woman to be...

So don't you fret, We're not

Planning our freedom

Our... liberty...

There's just simply

Too much to do

For us to care

About such petty things...

We're more than happy

To sit the hours away,

Staring out the window

And telling ourselves

Everthing will be okay..

Growing Up

There’s an edge

On the cliff

Where we’d sit for hours

Listen to the waves

And pick the flowers.

There’s a place

In the street

Where I first learnt to ride

I fell off

But I never once cried.

And there’s a room

In my house

Where no-one would find me

I’d sit by the window

And draw what I’d see.

They say you’ve got to

Grow up now

Stop returning to these

Old memories

You’re 17 now

Stop pretending you’re 3.

There’s a field

By my old friends' houses

With trees and a stream

The water ran cold

And now it’s just a dream.

There’s a park

Down by the bridge

We used to have picnics

Sit on the grass

And hunt for crickets.

They tell me I’ve

Got to stop

And think about my future

Sit, up

And practice good posture.

I don’t care about

What lies ahead.

I just want

To go back

To a time in my head.

I used to always

Want to grow up

Who care’s

About youth?

I want wisdom and gut.

But now I

Can’t stop remembering

The past, the time

The places, the people

I always thought would be mine.

Short Poem I

What is one life
To another,
When we cease
To live at all?
For the flower we
See as in bloom
Has not yet
Perfected it's form.

Waiting For A Hero

This poem was written after seeing a picture of Stella Vine’s latest public painting which was used as a backdrop for The Chapman Family’s Mima performance. After seeing the rather gory and morbid subjects in the painting, it felt important to me to capture this anti-war message into a poem. I hope it will suffice well.

The last four lines were used in the painting and are a lyric from the Chapman Family’s song ‘No More Tears’.

You can see pictures of the painting on Stella Vine's facebook page here - https://www.facebook.com/stellavine#!/media/set/?set=a.427503997282952.103945.227602890606398&type=3

And if you are interested in The Chapman Family, here is their facebook page - https://www.facebook.com/TheChapmanFamily

We’ll interfere

When money is the reward,

Land, oil,

And all the world’s spoils.

We’re waiting for a hero

The one to end this war,

But this tyranny of greed

Is no comic-book flaw.

The reality is death

At the hands of political shibboleth.

“We’re sorry for such casualties

But, that’s war.

We’d compensate their families

But it’s really such a chore…”

Front page news:

‘Civilian casualties rise’

First it was the prisoners

But now it’s the children’s turn

-to live like flies.

And we’re too proud

And patriotically ignorant

To deem ourselves the ‘cause’

As we become ever more belligerent.

This just in;

All wars have ended

We found the problem…

And now it has been mended.

All we needed was compassion

Instead of money, greed and fascism.

But who’s going to clean all the mess up?

We’ll tell the media it was charity

And government support

Of endless verity.

But deep down we’ll all know the truth,

It’s embedded in our culture

In our youth…

We listen to the papers

And the stories on the news

We want to feel human

But the media's our only muse

And all we can do

Is live our lives upside down

Where we can feel safe

Beneath this crown.

No More Lies

No More Fear

No More Hate

No More Tears

No More Lies

No More Fear

No More Hate

No More Tears

No More Lies

No More Fear

No More Hate

No More Tears

Poisonous Fruit

I may be bought and sold

Caught and told

Always weak, never bold

But at least I’m not your doll

You can chew me up

Spit me out

Eat me alive

And curse me with this drought

But I’ll still be mine

Though never free

At least I’ll live

At least I’ll be

You made my clothes

Sowed my woes

Took my hands

And kept me on my toes

Now I am a porcelain prize

No sailor will call for me

Until my cradle is made

Until I am no longer

Fruit of a poisonous tree.

Eclipse At Sunset

She smiles with weak eyes

A glint of wisdom

Guarded by her age

Threatened by a single hymn

Palms of wrinkled leather

Blue and grey like murky water

A stream into her lungs

Lived on through her daughter

The power and sanctity of youth

Are no longer of any use

Like the arm around her;

No longer tame but ruse

The candle she lit with a frail hand

Will eat away the dark

Until all the wax is consumed

And the light is no longer within her heart

She’ll leave with a whisper

On everyone’s lips

Though she died at sunset

They’ll sing of an eclipse.