It's prime time for the new Raj
Facts & acts must just sabotage
All baloney with no camouflage
Racist fascist pacts back in charge
De facto crypto crony arbitrage
With an aristo phony entourage
Ipso facto know who's the sarge
Nige does show pony dressage
Truth and proof will just massage
Aloof uncouth ranter going large
Just pub banter a bit of badinage
Trump leader of hit populist collage
All aboard greedier tech T-Rex barge
Seedier far right sh*t media montage
Vent at the establishment's espionage
Decent and democratic only a mirage
Bet just cover for yet another barrage
To other bigots & despots pay homage
An abhorrent torrent he does sparge
Hilarious no it is nefarious persiflage
Nutter's not butter but cheap marge
Spread thin in the gutter Nige Farage
I sit here sometimes.
Just watching the sky turn into a masterpiece
of pinks and golds.
And honestly?
It hits so hard.
But it’s crushing, too.
Knowing how fast it all fades away.
Fleeting.
I look around and wonder
if I am the only one who actually noticed.
My mind goes too deep.
A single line from a poem can haunt me for days.
Keats said the poetry of earth is never dead,
but the world is just so noisy.
Mechanical.
I tried bringing up Camus.
I tried talking about Dostoyevsky.
People looked at me like I had three heads.
It’s hard to find someone who wants to go there with you.
Who doesn't mind losing track of time
in a discussion about purpose.
Isolated.
But the world feels a little less lonely
when someone else sees the poetry.
Oscar said we're all in the gutter,
but some of us are looking at the stars.
So if you're out there.
If you appreciate a good existential ramble.
Let's talk.
I'm looking for the gazer.
Shades of grey cascades on rainy days
Petrichor reigns after each pitter patter
Radiance of earthy fragrance does flatter
Teardrops down panes.. splitter splatter
Fades to whiffs chiding riffs spit scatter
Forever about weather they do natter
Seems the one thing that does matter
Flowers cowers at showers which batter
Tiffs as petal in fine fettle does shatter
Down trodden by a sodden mad hatter
Raised bed fed on shed drops clatter
Spoils for alluvial soils a pluvial platter
Some veg in tatters others seem fatter
Folks chitter chatter.. prefer the latter
Cumulus nimbus nimbly flitter & flutter
Sunrays grasp after a last gasp stutter
Sliding gliding riding wooden shutter
Rasp of uncouth din off a roof of tin
Staccato rinse & repeat beat does utter
Burgling drains & gurgling in the gutter
Huddles of puddles cuddle and splutter
Parched Earth’s skin softens like butter
Mother Nature's own homegrown nutter
Folks groan have to clear up soaked clutter
Mumble prone to moan but not a tut tutter
Mustn't grumble need the tumble they mutter
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A penny face-up in the gutter—
Abraham’s copper gaze half-lidded with rain.
I pocket him like a secret,
like the first digit in an equation
no one taught me to how to solve.
The laundromat coughs up dimes~
silver cataracts rolled under dryers,
buried beneath lint and lost socks.
I tally them in my palm,
each one a tiny moon
pulled from the tide of neglect.
My grandmother saved buttons in a jar,
swore they were pirate treasure.
I collect coins instead~
nickels in parking lots,
quarters wedged between bus seats,
their edges bitten with teeth marks.
When the year ends,
I spill them all onto the kitchen table~
a metal harvest, a jingling autopsy.
Enough for a coffee,
a lottery ticket,
or the weight of knowing
that fortune isn’t a mountain
but the slow accumulation
of what everyone else
steps over.
the streets still hum the same tired tune—
neon promises,
beer bottles rolling in the gutter
like broken dreams with barcodes.
everybody’s got a phone
but nobody’s got a pulse.
we scroll past each other
like ghosts in a supermarket aisle
looking for god between the cereal boxes.
the rich keep smiling
because smiling is tax-deductible,
and the poor keep hoping
because hope’s still free—
for now.
politicians shake hands
as if they’re testing the weight
of your wallet,
preachers pray on Sundays
and prey the rest of the week.
the poets still write,
not for fame,
but to keep from setting the place on fire.
and maybe that’s enough—
a few words in the dark,
a whisper over the static,
saying:
we’re still here,
damn it—
we’re still here.
What I would call the street today,
As kids, we’d say the gutter.
It was a place to play for some
And moms would often mutter,
“If you’re not home on time, then I
Will see you, in my mind,
Lying dead out in the gutter
And your body they will find.”
The gutter also was the place
You took your dog to go,
For pooping on the sidewalk
Definitely was a no!
I never knew about the gutters
Meant to channel rain.
I have those on my roof right now
And cleaning them’s a pain.
But yesterday, I did just that
And as I scooped out goop,
I heard my mother’s voice call out,
Like she was on the stoop:
“Be careful near the gutter!”
Yet this time, my fear instead,
Was that I’d fall down while cleaning them
And crack my foolish head.
I tied a string to my tricycle handle.
In the basket, I placed a shining candle.
From the other end, I tied a balloon.
By hook and crook, I knew that one day soon,
I'd be in the court of the Crimson King.
But what would he offer - not a thing.
He sailed a walnut shell in the gutter,
floating like a boat without a rudder.
So, I pedaled to the frozen North,
as my balloon and I sallied forth.
Vileness, art thou video?
O vision what to see?
Caw for me O carrion crow!
Where's the 'I' in 'we'?
The god of ancient doorways?
Two-faced, give thy reply:
"I, Janus, have crossed the maze!
How I dare to sigh!"
Noted, friend. Are times to end?
Back of tomes to bend?
Wounded soldiers, on the mend?
Attack or defend...
Wendigo. You know. I say...
Living for today?
Macabre dance, upon the grey...
Shall we hie or tae?
Flickering like foxfire?
O strange lights in the moor;
Find a buyer or wield the wire?
Dire circumstance? Pure...
Flutter, tiger butter?
Around the druid's tree?
Down there in the gutter?
Mein mutter, muttering. Me!
Be upon us, blessings!
O lessons, to all teach!
No more second guessings!
Stressing's a bloody beach!
Reach for what doth glitter?
O poison gas, thy cloud...
Yes, but why be bitter?
O quitter, seek the shroud...
Big Ben chimes again
With Bazball zen
One of those men
From special stock
Shepherd of the flock
Hewn from strewn Volcanic rock
From New Zealand's Southern Isle
But only there for a wee while
Mighty flame haired flair laird
Without doubt more about Blighty's North East
They forged this bellicose beast
Ripsnorting sporting cavorting squire
Glutton & gourmand gorged feast
Test town crier
Puffed buffed chest
Inspire..burning
Proper copper topper
Churning fire..
Endless zest..desire
No dull lull
No bore draw
Simple...aspire
To score more!
It's not arcane
Stokes campaign & reign
Train like you're insane
Always entertain!
Remember us flounder
In the gutter
Trounced...17 on the bounce
Could we have found
Pound for pounder
Better all rounder
Nutter...go getter
Sounder founder
Run rate record setter
Of the evolution
And revolution
Of Test cricket
Toe to toe
Blow by blow
Heave ho
Give us a ticket
In the Baz ball or
Ben buzz grotto
Gung Ho motto
You will never know
Till you give it a go!
Demagogue not pedagogue
Aghast & agog
Perfidious insidious fog
Reeks of the past
Slog through the smog
Musk seeks to flog
Earth & its serfs
Downed & drowned
In his dystopian bog
Even starry nights
Elon’s neon satellites
Seedier media perch
Utter nutter besmirch
Thriving in the gutter
Conniving depriving church
Vex "X" & Tech T-Rex hex
Or next bogus Rogan
Bogan slogans prevails
Alpha male tales derails
Sod the planet’s scars
Cruise trips to Mars
Odd bod driverless cars
Spawn a fake Tarantino
Remake.."Musk till Dawn"
Devil may care lair..
Loads of lies..skies chock a block
With spies...all eyes on the prize
Everyone Everything Everywhere dies
Let's not parley with gnarly snarly
Musk...takes the mickey & the bicky
In the dock for running amok
Time guys he did finally own up
To being as grown up..
As a Farley’s Rusk (a British biscuit/bicky for a wee kiddy)
There are tulips in the gutter
perfect blooms,
destined for dinner with a friend,
they were meant for the table
but alas she was unable to attend
our love was a corpse
left to rot in the gutter
festered wounds seeping rot
the stench of our decay
clings to our skin
i am the undertaker
burying the bones of our love
the memories haunt me
like ghosts in the morgue
silence suffocates
a veil that wraps around
our necks, squeezing tight
the truth of our demise
in this darkness, we find
the art of our pain
a canvas of shattered souls
where love once dwelled
now we're left to drown
in the void of our own making
the weight of our regret
crushing us, bone by bone
and when the darkness claims us
our own hands will be the ones
that bury us
• Soft like kisses
• Smooth like butter
• Such traits landed me in the gutter
He used to take his lectures with a cigarette and a
blindfold.
Can you publish a single sentence?
Didn’t work for James
won’t work for me
choclate sorbet
sunday
in the pipe playing
old mexican sweat
from an old tube amp
and how’s that for a sonnet?
Close but no dice
this ain’t horse shoes
and you ain’t no hand gernade
ten stone gained
while im ten stones lost
stoned in the gutter
wasn’t me on mr ferris’s window grate
too bad
no one likes the blues anymore
and the inner critic keeps chewing away
through the poems like I’d left them
for the rats
real sick son of a
to dissolve one’s own work
never made sense
didn’t have to
makes sense
and then you name it
god the names
the fonts
it’s the title of a Piece after all
too much noise
interferance
bad baggage send it out
its not mine anymore
and so the poems go
Forget about me,
like a dropped coin in the gutter,
like a breath lost in the wind,
let me slip through your fingers
like sand in an hourglass.
Forget me,
like yesterday’s news,
like a raindrop in a storm,
let my name fade away
like graffiti on a subway wall.
Forget my voice,
that once echoed in your ears,
that whispered secrets in the dark,
let it vanish
like smoke from a blown-out candle.
I beg of you, forget me.
In the chaos of your thoughts,
where memories collide and scatter,
let me become a distant echo,
a whisper in the cacophony.
Forget my smile,
that lit up your world,
that cracked open your heart,
let it blur
like footprints in the sand.
Forget my laugh,
that rolled like thunder,
that shook your bones,
let it dissolve
like echoes in an empty room.
For I will never come back,
like a ship lost at sea,
like a shooting star in the night,
I am a memory now,
a ghost in the corridors of your mind.
I’m sorry,
if my absence leaves a void,
if my departure leaves you adrift,
but sometimes endings
are the only way forward.
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