America: the last bastion of hope in a world gone mad for the want of democracy Here we fuckin go again Iranians need freedom and there's bucket loads of depleted uraniam says some dumb american cunt will try emancipate them and he won't give a fuck who lives to see it or who gets back or how many limbs they bring back with them
because freedom because freedom because freedom oh sweet liberty, they're on their knees, they're on their knees
Hardly worth writing the bad days when most every street corner throws up someone way worse off It's said anyway if your eyes are tuned in Good thing about between days is as long as that moon owns the sky there'll be no tomorrow *Title by Kexby* https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/245263-go-slow-sweet-moon/ for Jesta's comp "I dub thee" -take a title ( ask for it ) from a poet's poem and write a poem to fit
Before the calm. ( collaboration with Jack Heslop )
Boil the blood, then drain the heart : a sense of mist a profanity hissed a witch's brew to be dismissed by all who'd loathe to tear apart... a fair foul with fair force [ you pluck the knife slit the scar add a splash of vinegar ]
2. We climbed the fabled steps and found nothing. no gods, no men, just an old and empty room. all too soon those simple cries of agony became howls of rage; betrayed by hate we found the streets again saw the...
..and it applies to people too", he said "you'll see when you get older" we got out of the car me, with a bundle of clothes under my arm Aunt Lena already had her front door open could smell the gas cooker heating the tea and she wanted to have it on the table for when my Dad and me sat down I loved her for it and I loved her for the way she talked to me despite the trouble I was in she winked at my Dad looked at me said "none of that here now ya gurrier" ...
Christy said he'd felt like an old balloon with a mild case of deflation you know the progression of such things will have it a limp spent spectacle til a pair of lips blow some air back into it I told him he was lucky to have a pair of lips handy went home and watered the cactus on the off-chance it was sick for the want of it and I hadn't noticed
never laid eyes on her never held her hand or brushed her hair or sat on a sofa and hummed a melody to her while she fell asleep in my arms because I've never given her mother benefit of the doubt don't know I ever will I think of her at times times which belong in photograph fourteen so there's no immediate plans to throw her life into disarray [/i]
ˇ) and time ain't no Robin Hood wouldn't give it space on my wrist because it cares for nothing (ˇˇ) She offered me space and I refused then she forced it upon me so I filled it with anger and drowned her
(ˇˇˇ) look at it, fool do you think ol' Mr Higgs gives a fiddler's fuck where the little hand points