Wednesday, 12 December 2012

Waking Up

I recently put up a YouTube video of a poem I wrote, hoping to perform it 'Slam-Poetry style' but my performace style is awful! I have a looooot to work on (including being able to recite my poem infront of a camera)!
   So here is the video in all its mediocre glory (and poem below):




Waking Up

What happens when we wake up and realise
That we've been living all these lies
That good and bad stand side by side
What happens when we understand
That we're being fed right into their hand
Us 'the people' - the 99%
Forced to believe sin and made to repent
But it’s too late for any kind of formation
To replace the current system that beats half-heartedly to any occasion
There's no more truth to fall back on
There's no light to be shone
The darkness consumes any flicker any flame
But we're already too blind to see through this game
The fascists are just a disguise
The communists take pleasure in being their alibies
Republicans are harvesting oil
And the Democrats believe in earth and the land’s soil
Everything we've been told has turned upside down
There's no monarchy, no jewel-encrusted crown
And there's wall of apathy
Put up to control the victims in society
The ones who worked and slept and ate and wept
The ones who want money, a 2-bedroom house and job security
The ones who died of old age
Forgotten long ago when they succumbed to that rage
Years left to be alone
Their dignity ripped from them the moment they were put in a home
Their own family telling us they can't see what we see
Their mind has gone, there's no point in making conversation
They’re in a better place, their heads no longer capable of realisation
And then they die and their life becomes a tomb
Forced into a coffin, there's no such thing as death coming too soon
When you're 83 and put of sight
You were never quite right...
And now were all too susceptible
To be anything but replicable, predictable
It's too late to write on banners and walls
To speak against money and spam phone calls
So we all go back to our beds
Feeling drained from our hearts to our heads
Thinking is the last thing we need
I mean we've already planted the seed
What more do you want?
Red paint and your own debutante?
You need to go back to reality
You don't see through the eyes we see
We've had ours closed all along
There is no right and wrong
Good or evil...
Just money and people





Friday, 7 December 2012

This Land



Recently I have been listening to a lot of PJ Harvey's latest album 'Let England Shake' which is all about conflicts in war, soldiers and a whole lot of other interesting and important things regarding our heritage, country, lifestyle and so on. Its definitely made me think more about what I had previously learnt and read about wars, especially modern ones and of my Granddad who never really liked to talk about his time fighting out in Burma during WW2. I live very close to the sea, in fact just a couple minutes’ walk away is a large golf-course that ends into tall cliffs along the Norfolk coast. I don't know why but I started imagining a battle taking place there and this poem is the result of that...
 

Snow falling through the winter cold,
sharing with it - the dreams of old
Ice and sleet that pave the way
To where my loved ones forever lay
Cold bodies beneath marbled stone
The Same tomb that will one-day be my home
This ancient crest of land
Sowed by the workers ancient hand
Has once again breathed life and death
With only the bleached-white bones left
Of those who fought through gas and rain
Over trenches in the pouring rain
Fields ablaze with rich explosions
Shrapnel falling deep into the oceans
It's gaping mouth - harsh and bitter
It's teeth woven like thick wicker
And as the winter snow melts clean
Who would know what this land has seen?
Let the memories die with those there
To keep fresh again this winter air

Tuesday, 27 November 2012

Dedicated to a Rather Wonderful Boy!

This poem is still pretty much in its primitive form; lots of editing shall be considered, but until then, this shall suffice!

I would never call myself an artist,
A musician, one who has talent beyond nature's demure
But with you, talent is uneccesary
And all that is important can crumble away
When presented with a simple kiss or touch
A word spoken honestly
And eyes that look so deeply, they are lost
In journey's of their own...

You are incomparable to any quote,
Lyric, painting or musical note
You are far greater than the height of
Human accomplishment yet or ever known
Shakespeare would be speechless
When presented with you; for no words
Could ever justify your being
Mozart would lay down his piano
And search beyond his music sheets
And still never find that melody in your soothing voice
Da vinci would mix all the colours
He'd ever used and go in search for more
Before dropping all of his brushes
And accepting paint can not show you
For who you really are
You are all the talent, all the creative wonders
The beauty, the truth
You are love and justice
And yet you shall always be more
For when I am with you, I might as well
Be the greatest of them all
Indeed, you would do well to call me
Shakespeare, Mozart, Da Vinci
Because you shall forever and always
Bring out the best in little old me.

Friday, 26 October 2012

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

Tuesday, 23 October 2012

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

Thursday, 27 September 2012

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.

Monday, 27 August 2012

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..

Sunday, 26 August 2012

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.

Monday, 20 August 2012

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.