Submissions by staggerlee (Paul Martin)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
17th Oct 2015 2:18am
17th Oct 2015 2:18am
Get me out of here
All these words fall on barren ground
Vague faces with vaque minds
Stare at me like i am mad
But i am past the point caring
All i hear is that she said that
He done that
Did you read what he wrote
On his facebook page
Extolling drama out of mundanity
Boring people
With chicken minds
Finding meaning in triviality
Success measured in empty glasses.
And who can shout the loudest
With their beer stained tee shirts
And moronic world veiw
My words my thoughts
Fire like a crooked gun
Against a impermeable...
Vague faces with vaque minds
Stare at me like i am mad
But i am past the point caring
All i hear is that she said that
He done that
Did you read what he wrote
On his facebook page
Extolling drama out of mundanity
Boring people
With chicken minds
Finding meaning in triviality
Success measured in empty glasses.
And who can shout the loudest
With their beer stained tee shirts
And moronic world veiw
My words my thoughts
Fire like a crooked gun
Against a impermeable...
731 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
11th Oct 2015 1:59am
11th Oct 2015 1:59am
No authority but yourself
there is no authority but yourself
not your bosses
not your politicians
not your holy books
not some higher being
not the military
not the police
not the magazines
not talk show hosts
not popularity
not flags
not nationalism
improve yourself
and you improve the world
not your bosses
not your politicians
not your holy books
not some higher being
not the military
not the police
not the magazines
not talk show hosts
not popularity
not flags
not nationalism
improve yourself
and you improve the world
624 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Sep 2015 6:14pm
8th Sep 2015 6:14pm
let the anger sleep
Through fields of flowing barley.
Down muddy grassy banks.
Reflecting upon reflections,
on crystal clear streams.
Wishing to weep,
between wilting elusive trees.
silence
Pure;
I can breathe again.
let anger sleep,
oh please let anger sleep.
Free from man soulless decay,
And uncritical mind,
That bleed me dry day after day.
and let the anger sleep
oh please let the anger sleep
Down muddy grassy banks.
Reflecting upon reflections,
on crystal clear streams.
Wishing to weep,
between wilting elusive trees.
silence
Pure;
I can breathe again.
let anger sleep,
oh please let anger sleep.
Free from man soulless decay,
And uncritical mind,
That bleed me dry day after day.
and let the anger sleep
oh please let the anger sleep
638 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Aug 2015 4:34am
10th Aug 2015 4:34am
waiting for Godot(outside mc Donalds)
He's late
Or am I early
What time is it?
Can't see
The stars are uncoordinated.
Whose in charge?
What's with
The mighty Mac wrappers congregation?
Praying under the lamp post.
Nature's corpse,
Man's rubble,
Who won?
Stop thinking.
That's enough,
Never enough.
Gonna go;
Can't
Godot.
Fillet o fish;
Garlic mayonnaise.
Existence
Is a annoyance
Feet hurt.
Toes to big.
Or socks to thick.
That's enough;
Never enough.
Double cheeseburgers,
With...
Or am I early
What time is it?
Can't see
The stars are uncoordinated.
Whose in charge?
What's with
The mighty Mac wrappers congregation?
Praying under the lamp post.
Nature's corpse,
Man's rubble,
Who won?
Stop thinking.
That's enough,
Never enough.
Gonna go;
Can't
Godot.
Fillet o fish;
Garlic mayonnaise.
Existence
Is a annoyance
Feet hurt.
Toes to big.
Or socks to thick.
That's enough;
Never enough.
Double cheeseburgers,
With...
731 reads
5 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Aug 2015 3:09am
8th Aug 2015 3:09am
Migrants
Tears upon tears.
Cruelty upon misery.
Swapping hell
For the psychotic sea.
Capsizing in infinite night.
Empty silence now ruptured,
As haunted faces
That once knew kindness,
Wail and scream.
Kick and splash.
Fighting their surrender
To the murderous depths
and then quietness falls.
But for the groans of a forlorn mum.
The score will be kept.
Statistics written up.
Reported by the press
Somewhere between the golf
And the latest fashion faux pas.
Cruelty upon misery.
Swapping hell
For the psychotic sea.
Capsizing in infinite night.
Empty silence now ruptured,
As haunted faces
That once knew kindness,
Wail and scream.
Kick and splash.
Fighting their surrender
To the murderous depths
and then quietness falls.
But for the groans of a forlorn mum.
The score will be kept.
Statistics written up.
Reported by the press
Somewhere between the golf
And the latest fashion faux pas.
618 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
24th Jul 2015 4:10am
24th Jul 2015 4:10am
Beach
I love the sound of squelching sand beneath my feet and the wailing cry
Of a lonesome gull,
I watch my embroided footprints of crooked toes and worn out soles vanish under galloping waves,
That swoon and disappear only
To rise again
Upon the restless sea.
The radiant sun mocks me,
everything is vivid turquoise
Greens and yellows.
But it's wasting it's energy on this poor soul my world has turned monotone and grey.
she's gone,screaming I deserve more.
I could see it coming it was of no surprise by the hunger that burned in her...
Of a lonesome gull,
I watch my embroided footprints of crooked toes and worn out soles vanish under galloping waves,
That swoon and disappear only
To rise again
Upon the restless sea.
The radiant sun mocks me,
everything is vivid turquoise
Greens and yellows.
But it's wasting it's energy on this poor soul my world has turned monotone and grey.
she's gone,screaming I deserve more.
I could see it coming it was of no surprise by the hunger that burned in her...
699 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
9th Jul 2015 6:10am
9th Jul 2015 6:10am
The road to Damascus
I join my fellow travellers
On the road to Damascus
The guilty the ignorant the egotists
With our ashen faces
And threadbare skin
Confined and self absorded
We walked mostly in silence
But some dare to speak of destiny
of been no other way
We can see Damascus in the distance
Beyond the mist perched upon the hills
But the road is long and many fall by it's side
And nobody weeps for the defeated
Their bodies picked cleaned
by enternal hungry vultures
Who turn honest men
Into money making machines
...
On the road to Damascus
The guilty the ignorant the egotists
With our ashen faces
And threadbare skin
Confined and self absorded
We walked mostly in silence
But some dare to speak of destiny
of been no other way
We can see Damascus in the distance
Beyond the mist perched upon the hills
But the road is long and many fall by it's side
And nobody weeps for the defeated
Their bodies picked cleaned
by enternal hungry vultures
Who turn honest men
Into money making machines
...
770 reads
5 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Jul 2015 2:34am
4th Jul 2015 2:34am
A poem for workers
Down here in the basement
There no time for fun or games
Down here in the basement
Survival is the name of the game
No time to ponder space or rhyme
Or any foolish contraptions of the mind
For when the ganger shouts
Move your asses
We have a ton of concrete to lay
With broken backs ,
We curse our fate.
And pay our dues to the human race.
Ganger Irish slang for foreman
There no time for fun or games
Down here in the basement
Survival is the name of the game
No time to ponder space or rhyme
Or any foolish contraptions of the mind
For when the ganger shouts
Move your asses
We have a ton of concrete to lay
With broken backs ,
We curse our fate.
And pay our dues to the human race.
Ganger Irish slang for foreman
646 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Jun 2015 3:30am
22nd Jun 2015 3:30am
ART IS DEAD MY FRIEND
ART IS DEAD MY FRIEND
ART IS DEAD.
Whitewashed and derailed,
By modernism vacuous hand.
Who scream empty metaphors.
Numbing our intellect,
Pleading not to scratch the surface,
Oh how they love their egotistical postulating.
About the nature of existence,
And meaning of being.
But it's all smoke and mirrors.
A three card trick.
Unsatisfying unnourishing.
Greasy burgers for the soul.
What would VAN Gogh do?
Probably pluck out an eye,
And sew an ear to his head.
So lets have a moment silence, ...
ART IS DEAD.
Whitewashed and derailed,
By modernism vacuous hand.
Who scream empty metaphors.
Numbing our intellect,
Pleading not to scratch the surface,
Oh how they love their egotistical postulating.
About the nature of existence,
And meaning of being.
But it's all smoke and mirrors.
A three card trick.
Unsatisfying unnourishing.
Greasy burgers for the soul.
What would VAN Gogh do?
Probably pluck out an eye,
And sew an ear to his head.
So lets have a moment silence, ...
623 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Jun 2015 3:41am
16th Jun 2015 3:41am
Sundays
We stood outside those church doors
Sucking on cigarettes
And telling tales
Of last night exploits
Mostly half truths
Embellished and embossed
Listening to murmuring
Of the religious folk
Pop our heads in for the communion
And the priest reminding locals
Of their parochial duties
Then down to Creans
For pints of black goodness
And salty Bacon sandwiches
From sour face Maggie behind the bar
No politics no religion that was the rule
Things could get real ugly real quick
Insults being thrown about long dead...
Sucking on cigarettes
And telling tales
Of last night exploits
Mostly half truths
Embellished and embossed
Listening to murmuring
Of the religious folk
Pop our heads in for the communion
And the priest reminding locals
Of their parochial duties
Then down to Creans
For pints of black goodness
And salty Bacon sandwiches
From sour face Maggie behind the bar
No politics no religion that was the rule
Things could get real ugly real quick
Insults being thrown about long dead...
633 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Jun 2015 1:07am
10th Jun 2015 1:07am
living
It's just another day,
It's just another dollar.
All these words,
All these hopes,
Are just silhouettes
Of my dreams.
That dance with disobedience,
Upon the fading moonlight of a fractured soul.
Stringing sentences.
In the need of comprehension.
And we all strive,
Even the world weary,
And the tired,
To avoid that damn silence
And the cursed emptiness.
As guilt glistens upon the midnight bell.
It's just another dollar.
All these words,
All these hopes,
Are just silhouettes
Of my dreams.
That dance with disobedience,
Upon the fading moonlight of a fractured soul.
Stringing sentences.
In the need of comprehension.
And we all strive,
Even the world weary,
And the tired,
To avoid that damn silence
And the cursed emptiness.
As guilt glistens upon the midnight bell.
590 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
3rd Jun 2015 1:40am
3rd Jun 2015 1:40am
ART HAS DiED
Art has died.
Sliced and diced.
By modernism cynical hand,
Or drowned in a bath.
With the pretentious posturing,
of absurd conceptualism.
What would Van Gogh do?
Probably pluck out an eyeball!!!
And sew an ear to his head.
Everything is a metaphor for our existence(yawn).
or the construct
for some mildly interesting philosophical concept(double yawn).
Art is dead my friend.
Art is dead,
Shot in the face,
At close range.
With twelve bore gauge.
It's remains posted to the kardashians,
To use as a pillow,
For...
Sliced and diced.
By modernism cynical hand,
Or drowned in a bath.
With the pretentious posturing,
of absurd conceptualism.
What would Van Gogh do?
Probably pluck out an eyeball!!!
And sew an ear to his head.
Everything is a metaphor for our existence(yawn).
or the construct
for some mildly interesting philosophical concept(double yawn).
Art is dead my friend.
Art is dead,
Shot in the face,
At close range.
With twelve bore gauge.
It's remains posted to the kardashians,
To use as a pillow,
For...
654 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by staggerlee (Paul Martin)
