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Peter Kiggin Poem
I lay my vengeance upon thee 25 17
Forever is a long God damn time
If I'm going to love then am I not commiting a crime
Something gruesome so madly insane that even my mother would hate the very sight of me sublime
Evil lurks in everyone of us and moments of insanity keep the brain ticking and tocking while the devil designs
To think of stabbing a man or a woman and watch blood pour out of them no mistaking in their death was your fault and your soul becomes ruined and dark even putrid slime
Madness I have seen with these two eyes as humans have an instinct to be killed or kill this is how the world defines
Why to destroy brings so much pleasure and power to armies and countries watch as the play taking innocent but inconsequential minds
You believe that conspiracy cannot corrupt the many but many caused this virus into our lives to end a power struggle between the haves and have nots does it feel pointless to go to work when we are slaves of no love of reason or rhymes .
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2015
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Peter Kiggin Poem
Junior school
Years gone by and we are all still fools
For the silly things we laughed at school
Farting and burping and breaking the rules
Making large bubble gum circles whilst swimming in the local pool
Playing tennis in the summer because Wimbledon was cool
Weekends on muddy pitches pitting your wits to tackle and duel
Flirting glances at girls although not knowing how it was cruel
Teachers bursting veins in their heads shouting to try and teach monkeys who scratch their arses and play E.T with their cagoules
Making grass bunkers in the summer with mates and a girl would show you her white knickers for some toffees and a daisy chain to amaze at and to drool
Remembering the children’s faces and the world we left behind to know that we had better times when we were all still fools.
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2013
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Peter Kiggin Poem
Consumer act
Consumers consuming and submerging till they are consumed and spat out when they die
Isn’t it funny to think consumerism is all about tomorrow and when and why?
Consuming effort to think what people want is the defining point of an era of buy by buy
Immersed in a struggle to want only the best of things until you realise what crap is on a skip near by
Do we really need all of this in our lives or are we a bunch of wankers wanking to get high
I think of the globe as one big shopping mall and in some countries they have precious things on their shelves to sell as they’re not shy
A lot of countries have realised that being friends with the bigger boys’ means that they can borrow these things for a while but the cost will cripple them then they will cry
Never mind little country I’m sure someone will help you if your people start to starve or begin to realise their government was a big fat lie
Keep on consuming that’s what I say because one day the Earth will ask for its goods back or we will all go to heaven as long as you haven’t consumed anything you shouldn’t or to hell with you which is a bit like living in Dubai.
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2013
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Peter Kiggin Poem
Pathfinder
I am the pathfinder who writes the right way
Through jungles and deserts a path I find without delay
To see amazing parts of the world that is hidden without my say
I write what is to be given to see by eyes only ready to obey
With wonderment and knowledge of what is and is not today
A wordsmith from the ancient world of words that lead us to play
Imagination is endless with words familiar and unacquainted to relay
The red witch and her white dragon fly through the night recited this day
Whether or not they are here in black and white and red of course displays
Magical illusions are the perfect green garden with no rules just swish and sway
We do however seem to write laws that are not permissive to make the earth so grey
I do believe the world is for children to endeavour and listening to grownups is sometimes confusing and completely puts me in disarray.
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2014
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Peter Kiggin Poem
Blue bike(Northern dialectably)
A bicycle that’s new was blue and swankity it had 52 spokes all chromed and
silver fancery
That bike was mine
I rode up hills to see the countery and down dales to go fast and rode it chancery
That bike was mine
I popped a tyre down near ta factory and I took it home to tell ta family we got
out spoons and inspected ta mattery then I put a plaster were the puncture
bubbled watery
That bike was mine
It had 10 gears which were satisfactory five were hard and the others sappery
but it got me going were I want ta be
That bike was mine
Soon I was looking for a new bike practically with ten more gears and a name that
suited me but I’ll never forget that blue bike frankily
Because that bike was mine
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2014
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Peter Kiggin Poem
A rare bird.
A rare bird is he with feathers illuminous red and green;
a bird that only few will ever see and perhaps twas meant to have been.
This bird flies free over mountains and through the mind of a dream;
escaping all barriers and leaving only temperance in mean.
A breeze will lift him to the highest contemplation of being;
and the rain will make him cry for this means a heart is bleeding.
The whistle of this bird when heard flows gently and transcends feelings;
he sits on your shoulder sometimes just to see what books you are reading.
Don't be mistaken in thinking you'll ever actually be able to see him;
first you must close your eyes and let yourself believe anything.
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2013
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Peter Kiggin Poem
The fever came and the good lord mopped his brow.
The sterile little needle punches a nice round bloody hole
I had to see the doctor because the sweat had grown so cold
I’ve got a ten pound prescription worth a bag of brown and gold
Now I have seen Christ Jesus dying to save our corrupted soul
I saw him when I took those tablets and the white light warmed me whole
I woke up in a hospital they said “you have got to see the doctor because you’ve
got problems these drugs will cure I’m told”
So I sat in a hospital till they thought I was ready then I went into a hostel were
the kids had drugs of many fold
The sterile little needle punches a nice round bloody hole and I guess that’s just
like Jesus trying in a world that’s evil and we’re all made from the very same
mould
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2014
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Peter Kiggin Poem
Mind travel
Are you willing to travel further than the end of your seat?
Then let us begin our journey into the unknown parts of your mind that words
can repeat
I give to you a pebble to make it real for when you wake it will be in your hand
to make this journey complete
You are on a hillside in a place where you have never been before but familiarity
is in the mind to meet
You see long flowing grass and butterflies of all colours reflecting a rainbow in
your blue eyes and a field of strawberries you can eat
Realise that this place is for you and forever you can come here to walk
peacefully without the worries of normality of dullness and defeat
A windmill so large its sails are as big as a street
A robin red breast sits on your shoulder while you eat bread together on a
bench whilst watching a monkey play the drums to a beat
Subtle colours become so bright your eyes are compelled to take them in as if
to first greet
Is this the real life I want instead of living in a dimension meant for scholars
who happily walk a road made of tar and concrete?
I can walk on rubber sausages in my slippers over mountains and collect some
bananas from South America and go to the corner shop for some custard and
sweets
I have shown you the door now all you need to do is relax on a white billowy
cloud and rest your feet
Look and open your hand and you can still see the pebble but you must believe
in your mind what is right and always listen to your heart because your soul is
flying fleet
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2014
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Peter Kiggin Poem
Hi Tonja Gasperlin, I couldn't reach you any other way so I wanted you to know you have my blessing to use whatever you like to write your project , in fact I would consider it a pleasure.
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2015
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Peter Kiggin Poem
A cultural cup of tea
Coffee isn’t my bean but give me tea leaves
A cup of cha do la not cocoa ta no ta
Brew me up chuck no Italian espresso like muck
Caffeine in the shape of a tea bag in a mug glug slug glug
Two sugars please love as I wink to see her breast in the gaze of my eyes pleased
No Darjeeling just plain old tea with a tea spoon and a bag to strenuously squeeze
A British moment of the day that almost everyone lifts their cup and elbows to the skies
I am an English man and I will have a decent cup of tea because it is in my cultural rites
Copyright © Peter Kiggin | Year Posted 2013
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