Submissions by blocat
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Comedy writer and also write serious stuff from the heart when I'm in the mood. Without humour life has no real balance and we take ourselves too seriously. I use humour as armour against the slings and arrows of outrageous circumstance. ;-)
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Apr 2013 7:59pm
3rd Apr 2013 7:59pm
I Pray They Prey
Sitting here five in the morning
Can’t sleep want to weep
Feeling six feet lower than shark shit
What have I done to deserve this?
Is fate simply taking the piss?
Income slashed in half
Are the gods having a laugh?
Tennant left unpaid rent
In anticipation already spent
Must stop whining and start shining
Need action for some pocket lining
New Year new idea says the cliché
Well seduce my ancient footwear! (Fuck my old boots!)
Con men write their crap so trite
Make a million over night
Only two hundred pounds...
Can’t sleep want to weep
Feeling six feet lower than shark shit
What have I done to deserve this?
Is fate simply taking the piss?
Income slashed in half
Are the gods having a laugh?
Tennant left unpaid rent
In anticipation already spent
Must stop whining and start shining
Need action for some pocket lining
New Year new idea says the cliché
Well seduce my ancient footwear! (Fuck my old boots!)
Con men write their crap so trite
Make a million over night
Only two hundred pounds...
626 reads
5 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
27th Mar 2013 10:02pm
27th Mar 2013 10:02pm
An Army of One
Looking around the overcrowded carriage for a mark Freddy spotted an easy touch standing near the doors. She was a frail elderly woman with a careworn face swaying with the Underground train’s motion facing side on to him her handbag over her arm. She looked yonderly, lost in her own thoughts. Freddy felt the train decelerate and moved in as if preparing to exit at the rapidly approaching stop.
He covered the bag from view with his body his hand expertly slipped the bag’s catch and he quickly located and liberated her purse pushing it into the special pocket inside his overcoat so...
He covered the bag from view with his body his hand expertly slipped the bag’s catch and he quickly located and liberated her purse pushing it into the special pocket inside his overcoat so...
784 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
25th Mar 2013 1:49am
25th Mar 2013 1:49am
The Spreading of Military Manure
You there stand still” screamed a voice two feet behind me. I stopped in my tracks and turned to look into the face of the soldier who was glaring at me like I’d seduced his sister. Having just jumped down from the truck that had brought us from the station I wondered what sort of hideous offence I could possibly have committed in the fifteen seconds I’d been under military control. He was about to enlighten me.
He walked across and picked up one of my bags from near the truck. He held it in front of my face suspended on two fingers like it was contaminated with some god-awful...
He walked across and picked up one of my bags from near the truck. He held it in front of my face suspended on two fingers like it was contaminated with some god-awful...
724 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
18th Mar 2013 3:50pm
18th Mar 2013 3:50pm
The Gentle Art of Grenade Lobbing
A tale of the last days of National Service conscription.
The drill was over we all had been shown how to clean and fuse a hand grenade now, at last, we were going to have some fun throwing live ones. We were, however, about to have much more fun than we had bargained for.
The British Army prides itself in the quality of its training methods so we soldiers first had to train on dummy grenades with dummy fuses. The art of delivering a grenade to the enemy we were told was to lob it high thus allowing time for the fuse to burn down and denying the enemy the chance...
The drill was over we all had been shown how to clean and fuse a hand grenade now, at last, we were going to have some fun throwing live ones. We were, however, about to have much more fun than we had bargained for.
The British Army prides itself in the quality of its training methods so we soldiers first had to train on dummy grenades with dummy fuses. The art of delivering a grenade to the enemy we were told was to lob it high thus allowing time for the fuse to burn down and denying the enemy the chance...
956 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Mar 2013 10:39pm
10th Mar 2013 10:39pm
This England
She has the face of a robber’s dog
He has the personality of a hog
Together they make a team
That’s right I said a team, ugly dream
They come to town to steal whenever they feel
The need for speed or maybe crack
When they’ve used it they’ll be back
For more. Yes, we deplore
But they know the score
We’ll do bugger-all held in thrall by politically correct
Bastards who, wincing at the thought of punishment,
Let them off once again with a fine that won’t be paid
Enough said!
They’ll then go home and breed more of their ilk
To be...
He has the personality of a hog
Together they make a team
That’s right I said a team, ugly dream
They come to town to steal whenever they feel
The need for speed or maybe crack
When they’ve used it they’ll be back
For more. Yes, we deplore
But they know the score
We’ll do bugger-all held in thrall by politically correct
Bastards who, wincing at the thought of punishment,
Let them off once again with a fine that won’t be paid
Enough said!
They’ll then go home and breed more of their ilk
To be...
754 reads
7 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
4th Mar 2013 10:41pm
4th Mar 2013 10:41pm
Damaged Goods
Humour is the armour that he wears
It hides the scars of deep despair
Inflicted by lust and cruelty
Hidden away so none shall see
The damaged creature who’s really he
So laugh, fool, and smile
Make them love your style
Hide away the wounded child
And in a million years or so
Maybe the pain will finally go.
Who’s to know?
It hides the scars of deep despair
Inflicted by lust and cruelty
Hidden away so none shall see
The damaged creature who’s really he
So laugh, fool, and smile
Make them love your style
Hide away the wounded child
And in a million years or so
Maybe the pain will finally go.
Who’s to know?
795 reads
8 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
2nd Mar 2013 1:51pm
2nd Mar 2013 1:51pm
Bang on Time
For over a year now Ahmed had been working as a maintenance engineer at Aircol and Max a small but important aero engine research firm. He was good at his job and never gave anyone cause for complaint or suspicion. He attended his mosque regularly and seemed a very serious devout young man. No one outside his small radical group had the slightest inkling of his deadly plan to strike a blow for jihad. His group had been looking for a suitable target for months and now Allah had sent a target straight to them.
Ahmed worked with old John and, at first, disliked him intensely he was in...
Ahmed worked with old John and, at first, disliked him intensely he was in...
841 reads
5 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
26th Feb 2013 3:57pm
26th Feb 2013 3:57pm
In Helibore
In Helibore’s heaven Satan screamed
In that paradise fair I lay and dreamed
Of a time when earth joined in the birth
Of ages new
What price then life torn with strife
Of men who lust for others' blood
Who think by killing they do good
Even the work of some odd god
Strange this god creates some
For others to murder in his name
What’s his bloody game?
Or could it be that in some alternative reality
All this suffering makes sense?
Delusion, confusion reign
In the land of Helibore home of the insane
In that paradise fair I lay and dreamed
Of a time when earth joined in the birth
Of ages new
What price then life torn with strife
Of men who lust for others' blood
Who think by killing they do good
Even the work of some odd god
Strange this god creates some
For others to murder in his name
What’s his bloody game?
Or could it be that in some alternative reality
All this suffering makes sense?
Delusion, confusion reign
In the land of Helibore home of the insane
677 reads
4 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
22nd Feb 2013 4:45pm
22nd Feb 2013 4:45pm
Spring in The Air
Preparing a meal the other night I hadn’t got a care
I looked out at me garden Ah spring was in the air
I wonder how me daffs are doing was my casual thought?
So I wandered out to look about and that’s how I got caught
In smooth soles slippers out I trod full of zip and pep
Until that is I reached the place where we have got a step
For it had grown a layer of moss which was wet with dew
And when I stepped upon it away my old legs flew
To see one’s feet against the sky isn’t very nice
I flailed about and gave a shout then landed in a trice...
I looked out at me garden Ah spring was in the air
I wonder how me daffs are doing was my casual thought?
So I wandered out to look about and that’s how I got caught
In smooth soles slippers out I trod full of zip and pep
Until that is I reached the place where we have got a step
For it had grown a layer of moss which was wet with dew
And when I stepped upon it away my old legs flew
To see one’s feet against the sky isn’t very nice
I flailed about and gave a shout then landed in a trice...
736 reads
8 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
20th Feb 2013 2:26am
20th Feb 2013 2:26am
Black Mamba
You could have avoided her bite
Had you but treated her right
You played the snake in the grass
Abused and mistreated the lass
She’s been used real bad before
Treated like a low-life whore
Her lithe loveliness is laced with poison lethal
Her deadly fangs your druggie needle
Now you are lost she’ll escape suspicion
They’ll reach their verdict in accepted tradition
Just another junkie who overdosed
She’ll never tell she’ll never boast
Of how she rid herself of you
And all the evil that you do
Never again you’ll...
Had you but treated her right
You played the snake in the grass
Abused and mistreated the lass
She’s been used real bad before
Treated like a low-life whore
Her lithe loveliness is laced with poison lethal
Her deadly fangs your druggie needle
Now you are lost she’ll escape suspicion
They’ll reach their verdict in accepted tradition
Just another junkie who overdosed
She’ll never tell she’ll never boast
Of how she rid herself of you
And all the evil that you do
Never again you’ll...
924 reads
10 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
14th Feb 2013 12:15pm
14th Feb 2013 12:15pm
Romance is not Dead
Your glass eye’s on the dresser
Your leg’s hung on the wall
Your hearing aids beside you
It’s no damn use at all
Your teeth are in the water glass
Smiling up at me
The same one’s I bought for you
In nineteen sixty three
Your face is a mass of wrinkles
Your tits have headed south
You’re snoring like a walrus
And dribbling at the mouth
But honey I still love you
Your faults to me are fine
So on this very special day
Please be my valentine!
Your leg’s hung on the wall
Your hearing aids beside you
It’s no damn use at all
Your teeth are in the water glass
Smiling up at me
The same one’s I bought for you
In nineteen sixty three
Your face is a mass of wrinkles
Your tits have headed south
You’re snoring like a walrus
And dribbling at the mouth
But honey I still love you
Your faults to me are fine
So on this very special day
Please be my valentine!
1015 reads
12 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
14th Feb 2013 11:56am
14th Feb 2013 11:56am
The Ten Laws of Politics
Please feel free to inbox me with more laws lets see if we can make 100!
1st Law of Politics: When there’s nothing left to be said a good politician will take an hour to say it.
2nd Law of Politics: Only when there is absolutely no other option should you revert to the truth.
3rd Law of Politics: Never use plain simple words when there are longer more complex alternatives.
4th Law of Politics: The formula for calculating expenses is your telephone number multiplied by the date.
5th law of Politics: Election promises are only valid on the day...
1st Law of Politics: When there’s nothing left to be said a good politician will take an hour to say it.
2nd Law of Politics: Only when there is absolutely no other option should you revert to the truth.
3rd Law of Politics: Never use plain simple words when there are longer more complex alternatives.
4th Law of Politics: The formula for calculating expenses is your telephone number multiplied by the date.
5th law of Politics: Election promises are only valid on the day...
738 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by blocat
