Best Fags Poems
His narrow eyes, misguided lies
Misguide his narrow plan,
To cleanse the world from demons, he
Was called The Preacher Man.
“I see no proof, I hear no truth!
Your science is a sin!
You’ll burn in hell if you rebel
And let the Devil win!”
The Preacher Man then took a stand
To convert the sinners by the hand
“You’ll see the Lord you’ll praise the Lord!
You’ll follow blindly Christ the Lord!”
The more he chased, the more they ran
From him, The Preacher Man.
Leviticus was hideous
To the innocent righteous folk
“The fags all shalt be stoned to death!” (Lev 20:13)
The terror he provoked.
His crucifix read “Six six six”
The people use to claim
He’d always clutch on to a crutch
To get him through his pain
His acid tongue and Sabbath stung
With nails through his hands he hung
“My sacrifice is worth the price,
For council in the Lord’s advice!”
His rapture soon began
That beast, The Preacher Man.
His leather book of horror shook
The children to their knees
“Dash the babies against the rocks (Psalm 137:9)
And hang them from the trees!” (Joshua 10:26)
From town to town he went around
Proclaiming he could heal
“The pain of grace upon your face!”
(His wallet was concealed.)
So lock your doors and hide what’s yours
Protect your children from the w----
“I’m commin’ for you, I’m gunnin’ for you!
I’ll say that I’ve been pray’n for you!”
His ministry infests the land
He’s called The Preacher Man.
We are so different
I am smart, you are less so
I am a man, you are a woman
I am trump, you are poor
I am beautiful, you live in a sewer
I have castles, you’re lucky to have drawers
I am peaceful, you are the extremist
I have armies, you have child suicide bombers
I have coffee, you have tea
See the difference between you and me?
I wear clothes under my head, you wear masks over
I sing songs in my sanctuary, while you chant the jihad
I have my god who is righteous; you have a god that sings of terror
My god is great, yours is a fraud
I ride in a limo, you ride a gay camel
I drink fine whiskey, you smoke camel fags
We you see… are as different
As night is to day
As sun is to moon
As Cain is to Abel
I own the castle you live in the stable
Goats and hogs your only staple
Now when we were in the hospital
Me so much better than you, you see
Both our sons sick of leukemia
You being so different and less than me
You cried, and you wept, and you wished yourself dead
If your child should live, you'd give all you ever had
Its then I saw, I’d do exactly the same
When you offered me a tissue
I confess I felt a wee little shame
Whatever hate you may or may not have had
Lifted, when you saw the child was your only lad
And when I saw this humble startling revelation
I realized how narrow and condescending I was behaving
So maybe we both learned a lesson of Job
A pity such sadness and pain had to bring
The realization to us both
We are not so different after all
We now drink tea in the olive gardens
Telling the young if they chose to listen
There is a better path, of happier wisdom
By embracing your fellow man
No matter race, color or convictions
Start with a smile
Make it last more than a mile
Great things happen
When us, the people take action
Yours truly
Two fathers
Of this world
Thank you Charmaine for the constant inspiration!
I welcome you to this magic kingdom
Drowned in endorphins and stale perfume
To hide the stench of sweat but not shame
You're free to leave but you won't be the same
So grab a drink, have one of my fags
The girls and boys in glamourous rags
Fight 'til the sunlight on sticky floors
Tomorrow morning they'll regret it, of course
Forget your morals, you won't need them now
It makes more sense to follow the crowd
That seems so happy and carefree
Intoxicated is the way to be
Am I the jester or the king?
This kingdom is my everything
Live long, all hail, up against the wall
The king is wearing nothing at all
If you're looking to lose yourself
Leave your soul and brain on the shelf
And find yourself washed up on the shores
Of the United Kingdom of Whores
This poem is written for a mate’s dad
The family left feeling awfully sad
For their Poppabear passed this week
A better life he tries to seek
A Son, A Brother, A Father too
Your babybears were very proud of you
Yes you had your demons with fags and the booze
Alas your taking your final cruise
You gave your children a better life than you had
That’s why they are proud to call you dad
Your early days with your brother were difficult and hard
No contact from parents not even a card
But you stayed true to your word
Gave your children love that’s not absurd
Even though you struggled with your health
Your love to the kids was better than wealth
As a former soldier and a guardsman too
I’m sure your send-off won’t be all blue
As a Guardsman you will stand tall
Erect to the front you will not fall
A handsome and witty chap you were
Direct to the point that was for sure
As a man who didn’t mince his words
Assertive and polite but did not curse ?
So Poppa Bear you will be missed
Now your babybears are getting Pxxxed
RIP DAD we loved you so much
A single white feather is all now we can clutch
Ive danced with the devil a thousand times,
disowned my family and commited crimes,
lost relationships and lived on the street,
and still i would not accept defeat.
Ive created so many different personalitys,
adapted my life to so many reality's,
Ive fort,lied,stole and blagged,
picked butts off the floor when ive had no fags,
and still i would not accept defeat.
Ive trusted and lost,lost and trusted,
been in a house when its been busted,
begged money in the street from total strangers,
put myself in life into all sorts of dangers,
and still i would not accept defeat.
pretended to be someone im not,
taken drugs and lost the plot,
anything in life, just to fit in,
lived a life of every day sin,
and still i would not accept defeat.
ive pushed anyone who cared away,
women who loved me i would play,
selfish,malipuative,unpreadictable and devious,
self pitying,scared,depressed and mischevious,
and still i would not accept defeat.
A driven desire in search of happiness,
self sabotaged,lazy,scandalous, and shabbyness,
drank every drink there is to drink,
depths of despair i had to sink
and still i would not accept defeat.
"Road to Lovejoy - Piano for the Self Taught" (Part 1)
Liberation
of a sort
head out the car window
hair blowin’ in the breeze
I can hear the Crickets chirping
in the chilly winter freeze
I’m smiling
it’s good to be alive
until the old man shouts
“Hoi!
pull your head in a
truck’s coming!”
Right hand holding
the wheel steady
reaches over the gear stick
across me
no seatbelts back then
in the old Austin
winds up the window
a roll your own ***
hangs out the side of
his mouth
the Kimberly is a moving
gas chamber
I’m breathing it all in,
holding my paper bag
carsick from the fags
along a very long flat road
it’s seems like we’ve been driving
forever, all those Cane Toads jumping
across the “NO SPEEDING - ROOS CROSSING!” Zone,
We’re moving West not South
Erinmore roll your own
he licks then spits out.
“Count the roadposts”,
he barks out the corner of his
mouth, “that’ll be interesting”.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7
there’s a Roo lying on the side
of the road in the dark,
the highbeam discloses it’s been
bleeding, intestines lying ripe
with blowflies and a Red Belly Black
by it’s side
“eating it’s gizzards”, I surmise
I swallow and cringe,
the word makes me think
of Frilly Lizards, throwing up and
I’m praying it’s gone to Roo Heaven.
8, 9, 10, 11,
before too long
I’m sleeping.
This, he’s commanded,
to keep me from barfing.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)
IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA
BASE FORTHWITH.
ALSO, ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS,
SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS,
WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, SHRINKS, COLONEL
CLINKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES,VENDORS, SUPPLIERS,
SALESMEN, ACCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS,
HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS,
COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS,
RELATIVES, FIANCES, BOYFRIENDS, GIRLFRIENDS, FRIENDS, FOES,
ENEMIES, EVIL NEMESIS’, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS,
TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS,
QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, FAGS, DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY
ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, [PRE OR POST] MALE IMPERSONATORS,
DICKS, DYKES, VAN DYKES, DICK VAN DYKE, LESBIANS, LONGSHOREMEN,
SHORTSHOREMEN, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET
MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, JUVENILE DILINQUENTS,
SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS,
LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS,
DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS,
SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICENE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES,
WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS,
VIGILANTES, VICTIMS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS,
PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS,
RIGHT WING, LIBERALS OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS. THEY ARE NOT TO
CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBERS.
BUT, IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME.
BA-ZING!
?
“You’re a foot fairy” they say to me.
“You’re a band geek” they mock at me.
“You’re a Jesus freak” they bash on me.
What can I do to gain their love?
Hatred toward everything I do!
When will this pass?
High school needs to die.
“Poetry is for fags” they tell me.
“Man whore” they call me.
“Nerd” they laugh at me.
Why do they do this?
Discrimination flowing through their blood.
What will stop them?
High school needs to die.
Wrong!
A little boy plays football.
His parents call him a "tomboy".
He doesn't understand what it means.
Wrong!
The boy is now twelve.
His best friend gets her period.
And puberty hits him hard.
Wrong!
His friends put him in dresses and makeup.
His parents are proud of their "little girl".
He doesn't get why this is happening.
Wrong!
Freshman year he gets a laptop.
A friend convinces him to join Tumblr.
He feels acceptance.
Wrong!
He learns about gender and sexuality.
He is relieved and happy.
He is finally not alone.
Wrong!
His helpful friend,
Kills himself due to unaccepting family.
The boy feels alone again.
Wrong!
He goes shopping with his brother.
His brother calls the cute couple in the corner "fags".
The boy doesn't understand how love is wrong.
Wrong!
He starts to wear baggier clothes and bind.
People call him; "dyke", "tranny", and "lesbo".
He just wants to be called a man.
Wrong!
He has hopes and dreams for a future.
He just wants to be himself.
He just wants to be happy...
...But every single time,
he feels better about himself
He sees her in the mirror...
Dear God,
This is a letter from your ***** daughter.
Wait, hold up did this girl just say *****?
"You are not a child of God!" Someone shouts!
Oh shut up! This is my letter.
Anyway you know I grew up in church
Singing your songs swaying in the pews
Lifting my hands high up
Shouting my praises
Hallelujah Amen!
God is GOOD!
But as I grew older
Just the thought of your name made me squirm
Soon the songs changed pitch
And sounded off key
I couldn't sit through a Sunday school class
Without cringing
When bibles were being handed out I pulled my hand away
Like your word would burn me like hot coals
And soon after that the music completely stopped
I wasn't going to church
I cut ties with my choir boy and flower girl looking friends
I traded Sunday dresses for ripped tights and combat boots
I cut my hair SHORT
I got called a boy
But I wasn't offended
I started looking at boys in a new way
I liked them
Soon after that...I also started looking at girls
I felt the same feeling I felt for boys
I wasn't ashamed...
I was told I should being what they called a "christian"
But I wasn't one
I didn't want to even be one
The name sounded dirty
Foul
I wanted to gag at the sound
Bringing up my past is never good
And you know I still am not a "Christian"
I believe in God, but that doesn't mean "Christian"
No offense big man but your hardcore "followers", these so called Christians, hate me
They are the BIGGEST hypocrites I've met
"Oh we love everyone" they claim
But once they find out the truth about me?
"God hates fags!" "Sinner!" "Blaspheme!"
Your reply?
"SCREW YOU SHE IS MY DAUGHTER TOO!"
Wait can god say screw you?
I guess it doesn't matter I mean you are God.
Personally I think it would be awesome to hear you say screw you
That would make me want to give you a high five
And you know God I realize now
You aren't all bad
I may not have it figured all out
But black or white
Young or old
Boy or Girl
Straight or *****
You love me all the same
With all her love,
Your ***** Daughter :)
P.S. Thanks for the rainbows :)
A simple observation of the things that people take,
Life in general without it, and the difference it would make.
Grass is always greener on the other side,
Happy to abuse ourselves, while our eyes are open wide.
But what would we then do, if life didn’t need that buzz?
We’d wake up high and wasted, and all consumed with love.
Nothing would ever matter, importantness wouldn’t exist.
Would we plod on regardless, in this natural legal bliss?
The norm would be abnormal, and visa versa too,
We’d tire of it eventually, and look to something new.
With everything so “right on” we’d really should be glad,
But the human nature down side, we want what we can’t have.
We’d bore of happy highs, get tired of that buzz,
Always yearning opposite, nothing seems enough.
The point that I am making, is easy to surmise,
Desire always for different, greed lurks in our eyes.
Always wanting more, a sad fact that is true,
Who can predict temptation and what it makes us do?
Onwards like a driving force, the ultimate we can get,
Be it drink, fags, drugs, sex or work, we’re all caught in the net.
I remember living in one room dingy and dire
with old lino on its rotting wooden floor.
I remember crystallised spit dangling from guard at the fire;
as mother cleaned, he'd only honk the more.
I recall how we went hungry, waiting for the paltry sum
he allowed us for board and keep, the cheap fink,
and how he served apprenticeship to becoming a true bum
by treating as priorities his fags and drink.
I remember all the rows he caused demanding back the cash
which was supposed to feed and clothe his we’ans
I remember every Christmas morn' the gifts received were trash
because he'd pissed the present-money down the drain.
I recall one awful night my mother hunting high and low
with a hungry bedraggled child on either hand,
she finally catching that boozy stinker sate in the Dungloe.
How he fumed, outraged that food she dared demand.
I remember his begrudgement of those sparse few days away–
one hour upon the beach or at the fair:
how just when we were relaxing would be dragged from play.
Homeward-bound: him the ‘bookies', us despair.
I remember trudging up to Creggan to the ‘Housing Place'
every week with mother and sister, come rain or hail,
and how that worthless, selfish, monster did not even have the grace
to commend her dedication, instead railed.
I can picture his expression when she got herself a job,
determined not to lose her new clean home.
I remember his wild tantrums when she'd saved up for a hob–
the delivery man was perplexed at oral foam.
I remember those miserable times as if they were today,
how he made odd help with homework living hell–
so that now a friend's assistance, however gracefully
put, grates my tortured psyche so much I cannot tell.
When we started working, my sister dear and I,
it seemed for him a licence to give less.
Many weeks he'd keep house-money and, as the months went by,
we discovered he'd drunk the rent; that was a mess.
So now sot has retired, and it seems his mind has gone–
for he's telling all how great he was those years:
he built house on the prairie. He was such a con:
the only thing he constructed was a legacy of fear.
LIFE CHOICES
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
He sat in his rocking chair, willing time to pass
A stubby of beer in his hand and a *** in his mouth
Rocking to the country music blaring in the background
This man so alone, thinking about his last breath
Once a family man of great strength and character
Working days spent at the saw mill in the bush
Sucking on rollies through-out the working day
Never thinking that one day he would be short of breath
The ravages of life choices, booze and fags will shorten your time
For now his ravaged body is but a shadow of it self
Lacking in energy, can’t work, crippled with pain hard to walk
His body once full of life, now dying from life choices
Slowly the man lifts the beer to savior the nectar he needs
Time is suddenly frozen for he never gets his last drink
His body slumped he has succumbed, no pain now, just silence
The rocking chair now still, his body lifeless and growing cold
Life choices have taken this man too early, he was so young
He had the choice to not drink alcohol or smoke tobacco
He had the choice of living a long and productive life
But LIFE CHOICES ended his time on earth to soon
Phantoms
In male six, psychiatric ward at night
there live ten patients burning bright,
their thoughts are with their missing
mums, while eager for breakfast wait
their tums
Now here, as not before, it’s all about who’s
first through the dining room door, theirs eggs
and bacon and toast with butter, it’s enough to
make a man’s heart flutter
But romance has now long gone, with shirt
needing help to put on; and in this slight
miscarriage, a moral judgment say, they
take their medication and live another day
But then there’s lunch, what delights await?
with biscuits, cheese and cream and tea, to
fill old hearts with tempered glee, a taste of
butter, a square of fudge, a barely felt old-
fashioned grudge
Five square tables, two at each, if they move
they make a screech; which brings us to the
main event, evening dinner heaven sent,
with pastries, pies and soft fried chips,
and bread and butter for trembling lips
And interspersed amid all this, there’s
medication from the list; black and blue
and white round pills, so designed to
soothe all ills
Ruminations-trembling- hallucinations
too, popped in mouth or drank as syrup,
tis the steed and you’re the stirrup
But here’s not to dwell and dally, on visit
Saturday comes aunt Sally; with choc
and fags and pink smoked salmon, raise
the spirit, mood does rally
But alas now all the wards have gone,
white coats and patients they’ve moved
on; and if one day you pass at night,
remember them when burning bright
Young Jimmy Kelly had this knack
Of chatting up girls and having the craic
His wife found out but kept her cool
Planned her revenge 'cos she's no fool.
The first thing she did was stamp on his fags
Then cut up his clothes until they were rags
How dare he she thought the dirty old man
Driving around town getting girls in his van.
His favorite stew she started to prepare
But added some extras' 'cos she didn't care
She added some dog hairs from the bin
Then cut her toenail's and put them in.
With his toothbrush she cleaned the loo
On the toilet seat she put some glue
Scratched his CDs with a pin
And down the sink she poured his gin.
Jimmy came home said "What's for tea ?"
"It's stew" she said "But not for me"
"I'm not hungry" she said with a grin
Jimmy got seated and began to tuck in.
After five minutes his face turned blue
Got up quick and went straight to the loo
My mouth he thought tastes of feet
When I've used the loo I'll clean my teeth.
So if your tempted to chase some skirt
Or like Jimmy to chat and flirt
Think again you'll end up with nowt
Cos your life will be hell when she finds out.
Written 18 January 2018