Submissions by Punkpoetdetectives
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Hi we are poets
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Nov 2013 00:02am
17th Nov 2013 00:02am
Punk Poetry Double Shot #1 - Seven Miles Of Golden Sand/An Evil Town
7 Miles Of Golden Sand By Tom Quinton/A Evil Town By Marcus Cooke
Side 1 - Seven miles of golden sand By Tom Quinton
With seven miles of golden sand
and a lighthouse on nine legs
Radioactive murky water
and seagulls with two heads
The beach is like quicksand
Like a whore it will swallow you whole
Surrounded by pounds shops,
and tourists on the dole.
With vomit stained pavements
The seagulls eat for free
The high streets like a war zone
In good old Burnham on sea.
Strangers stop in wonder
What sort of place is...
Side 1 - Seven miles of golden sand By Tom Quinton
With seven miles of golden sand
and a lighthouse on nine legs
Radioactive murky water
and seagulls with two heads
The beach is like quicksand
Like a whore it will swallow you whole
Surrounded by pounds shops,
and tourists on the dole.
With vomit stained pavements
The seagulls eat for free
The high streets like a war zone
In good old Burnham on sea.
Strangers stop in wonder
What sort of place is...
669 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
15th Nov 2013 9:55pm
15th Nov 2013 9:55pm
The Devil's Assassin 1.1 - Good Things Happen To Good People
The Devil's Assasion 1.1 - Good Things Happen To Good People"
By Marcus Cooke
Based on the "Devil's Assassin" Created by Tom Quinton
Before...
Lucy Costello stepped of the well worn greyhound bus
it had taken her 48 hours cross country
in that time she had fell asleep at least 9 times
waking up sat next to 10 different people
an 8 out of 10 times that person had tried to cop a feel
still it was worth it.
Her natural blonde hair
blows freely in the morning air
as a new world opens up in front of her eyes ...
By Marcus Cooke
Based on the "Devil's Assassin" Created by Tom Quinton
Before...
Lucy Costello stepped of the well worn greyhound bus
it had taken her 48 hours cross country
in that time she had fell asleep at least 9 times
waking up sat next to 10 different people
an 8 out of 10 times that person had tried to cop a feel
still it was worth it.
Her natural blonde hair
blows freely in the morning air
as a new world opens up in front of her eyes ...
668 reads
0 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
15th Nov 2013 9:45pm
15th Nov 2013 9:45pm
A Cul-De Sac For The Mind
"A Cull De Sac for the mind"
By "Punk Poet Detectives" Tom Quinton and Marcus Cooke
You're a skid mark in my heart
A damaged flux capacitor
A half baked apple Tart
Your eyes they tell a story
You drag your knuckles across the floor
A first class space cadet
A chemical seeking whore
You walk with a swagger
But you stink of defeat
You're a sun dial in the winter
A pube on a toilet seat
A face like a smacked ass
Your Reality you never see
You've got the Samaritans on speed dial
and you sit down to pee
...
By "Punk Poet Detectives" Tom Quinton and Marcus Cooke
You're a skid mark in my heart
A damaged flux capacitor
A half baked apple Tart
Your eyes they tell a story
You drag your knuckles across the floor
A first class space cadet
A chemical seeking whore
You walk with a swagger
But you stink of defeat
You're a sun dial in the winter
A pube on a toilet seat
A face like a smacked ass
Your Reality you never see
You've got the Samaritans on speed dial
and you sit down to pee
...
652 reads
0 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
14th Nov 2013 4:34pm
14th Nov 2013 4:34pm
Clicky f**kers
"Clicky Fuckers By Marcus Cooke And Tom Quinton
Here that sound
Tick Tick Ticking
that's the sound of
the clicky fuckers
click click clicking
They lick the brown
from there collective asses
separating the working folk
from the upper classes.
click, click, click,
They suck corporate dick
Financial gain
With every last lick
Their mouths are full of corruption
and their mechanism gone
They trample on the weak
Just to get along
Click, Click, Click,
They never miss a trick
Fooling the masses...
Here that sound
Tick Tick Ticking
that's the sound of
the clicky fuckers
click click clicking
They lick the brown
from there collective asses
separating the working folk
from the upper classes.
click, click, click,
They suck corporate dick
Financial gain
With every last lick
Their mouths are full of corruption
and their mechanism gone
They trample on the weak
Just to get along
Click, Click, Click,
They never miss a trick
Fooling the masses...
588 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
14th Nov 2013 4:31pm
14th Nov 2013 4:31pm
Sad Manners
"Sad Manners" By Tom Quinton & Marcus Cooke
When you barge through the door
Spare a second For a thought
I'm not the shit on your heel
Or the mess on the floor
Its my duty to inform you
And my pleasure to remind you
That manners don't cost a thing.
When I'm talking to you
The art of conversation is lost
logic goes out the window
No matter the cost
Birds sing while
the cell phone ring
I should remind you that
Manors don't cost a thing.
you eat with your mouth open
your social etiquette
is broken like...
When you barge through the door
Spare a second For a thought
I'm not the shit on your heel
Or the mess on the floor
Its my duty to inform you
And my pleasure to remind you
That manners don't cost a thing.
When I'm talking to you
The art of conversation is lost
logic goes out the window
No matter the cost
Birds sing while
the cell phone ring
I should remind you that
Manors don't cost a thing.
you eat with your mouth open
your social etiquette
is broken like...
622 reads
0 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
13th Nov 2013 6:11pm
13th Nov 2013 6:11pm
"We Detect Corruption"
"We Detect Corruption" By Marcus Cooke And Tom Quinton
"In brightest day
in blackest shite
no corruption
shall escape are sight
for those who worship
evils might
beware are power
punk poet detectives might"
To the Tesco's supermarkets
and the corrupt politicians
to the landlords renting
unsuitable living conditions,
we detect corruption
alter your assumption
You think no one was watching?
but we were watching
and we have seen some
very disturbing things,
from cash for questions
to...
"In brightest day
in blackest shite
no corruption
shall escape are sight
for those who worship
evils might
beware are power
punk poet detectives might"
To the Tesco's supermarkets
and the corrupt politicians
to the landlords renting
unsuitable living conditions,
we detect corruption
alter your assumption
You think no one was watching?
but we were watching
and we have seen some
very disturbing things,
from cash for questions
to...
664 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
13th Nov 2013 6:08pm
13th Nov 2013 6:08pm
"Rustic Pages"
"Rustic Pages" By Tom Quinton And Marcus Cooke
My livers failing
My minds abseiling
Through the past
With a jaundice sky
memories fade and die
They were never meant to last
Centuries of old
Stories forever told
Scribbled in rustic pages
Sunshine burns my skin
My patience wafer thin
My blood boils it rages
in this emerald dawn
I exit where I'm born
I enter a new land
Where some fear to tread
Inside a poets head
and through the pen in his hand
I awake a new man
a man with...
My livers failing
My minds abseiling
Through the past
With a jaundice sky
memories fade and die
They were never meant to last
Centuries of old
Stories forever told
Scribbled in rustic pages
Sunshine burns my skin
My patience wafer thin
My blood boils it rages
in this emerald dawn
I exit where I'm born
I enter a new land
Where some fear to tread
Inside a poets head
and through the pen in his hand
I awake a new man
a man with...
506 reads
0 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
13th Nov 2013 9:39am
13th Nov 2013 9:39am
"God Bless The Grammer Natzi's"
You will have observed my now, tom and Marcus's complete disregard for grammar and spelling? how they get away with it is anyone's guess? So here presented to you is a poorly constructed "ditty" which some may find controversial others annoying, and some who like us who cant spell and have no concept of grammar will appreciate.
"God Bless The Grammar Nazi's"
By Tom Quinton And Marcus Cooke
God bless the grammar Nazi's
the word elite, Illuminati
you've been pointing
out mistakes,
causing, chaos
teeth clenched
armed with scythes...
"God Bless The Grammar Nazi's"
By Tom Quinton And Marcus Cooke
God bless the grammar Nazi's
the word elite, Illuminati
you've been pointing
out mistakes,
causing, chaos
teeth clenched
armed with scythes...
640 reads
3 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
13th Nov 2013 9:35am
13th Nov 2013 9:35am
"Uncanny Yes-Men
Uncanny Yes -Men
By Marcus Cooke And Tom Quinton
Eye to the sky
only say no when you die
wanker bankers
say yes then leave
you high and dry.
yes men smile
the fat cats gloat
i bet they feel snug
in a double fur lined coat.
MP'S pocket a pay rise
recommended by a independent body
the yes men strike again
fucking over everybody
Where yes means no
and no means maybe
where corrupt politicians
lick your ass and kiss
your baby's
The uncanny yes men
have a x-factor for
corruption
which ticks the boxes...
By Marcus Cooke And Tom Quinton
Eye to the sky
only say no when you die
wanker bankers
say yes then leave
you high and dry.
yes men smile
the fat cats gloat
i bet they feel snug
in a double fur lined coat.
MP'S pocket a pay rise
recommended by a independent body
the yes men strike again
fucking over everybody
Where yes means no
and no means maybe
where corrupt politicians
lick your ass and kiss
your baby's
The uncanny yes men
have a x-factor for
corruption
which ticks the boxes...
585 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Nov 2013 10:28am
12th Nov 2013 10:28am
"Home Is Where The Heart Is"
Tea bags
and flea bags
and the stench
of a litter tray
mouse traps
and fanny flaps
and I Drink
my blues away
Sewer pipes
crazy nights
Itching from head
to toe
Joss sticks
and lunatics
Now I'm stuck
WIth no place to go
Frying pans
FInacial plans
Credit cards maxed
To the limit
Yoga moves
New age groves
You gotta be in it
To win it
Carpet stains
and period pains
This place it stinks
of piss
Dirty dishes
False wishes
Home is where
The heart is
Re-location, location...
and flea bags
and the stench
of a litter tray
mouse traps
and fanny flaps
and I Drink
my blues away
Sewer pipes
crazy nights
Itching from head
to toe
Joss sticks
and lunatics
Now I'm stuck
WIth no place to go
Frying pans
FInacial plans
Credit cards maxed
To the limit
Yoga moves
New age groves
You gotta be in it
To win it
Carpet stains
and period pains
This place it stinks
of piss
Dirty dishes
False wishes
Home is where
The heart is
Re-location, location...
518 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Nov 2013 10:12am
12th Nov 2013 10:12am
"What Poetry Means To Us"
"What Poetry Means To Us"
By Tom Quinton And Marcus Cooke (Punk Poet Detectives)
Where the flags
of Imagination Fly
like beacons to the call
Where words of wisdom linger
like a graffitied stained wall
Sign of the times
Where dogs they cock the legs
A poets soul,
his passion His words inside your head
Generations to come
Don't be afraid,
pick up your pen
Vent your anger
your feelings Cleanse your soul again and again
Poetry is fun Poetry is raw
Theres no boundaries,
no Restrictions
No fucking written law...
By Tom Quinton And Marcus Cooke (Punk Poet Detectives)
Where the flags
of Imagination Fly
like beacons to the call
Where words of wisdom linger
like a graffitied stained wall
Sign of the times
Where dogs they cock the legs
A poets soul,
his passion His words inside your head
Generations to come
Don't be afraid,
pick up your pen
Vent your anger
your feelings Cleanse your soul again and again
Poetry is fun Poetry is raw
Theres no boundaries,
no Restrictions
No fucking written law...
610 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Aug 2013 2:09pm
5th Aug 2013 2:09pm
"Down In Highbridge Train Station At Midnight
Down in Highbridge Train Station at Midnight” By Tom Quinton and Marcus Cooke
Chips papers skate across the street
Puddles of vomit fester at my feet
Shadows of loneliness
try to push me back
The town sheds a tear
as the train rolls down the track.
A nightmare,
a bad trip rolled into one
Fear sticks in my mind
like decaying bubble gum
The stench of death
blood on the tracks
The corpses of dead kittens
lie still, upright in there sacks.
Street lights flicker,
Madness in their eyes
Full of dirty secrets, and...
Chips papers skate across the street
Puddles of vomit fester at my feet
Shadows of loneliness
try to push me back
The town sheds a tear
as the train rolls down the track.
A nightmare,
a bad trip rolled into one
Fear sticks in my mind
like decaying bubble gum
The stench of death
blood on the tracks
The corpses of dead kittens
lie still, upright in there sacks.
Street lights flicker,
Madness in their eyes
Full of dirty secrets, and...
595 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Punkpoetdetectives
