Tag Archives: spoken word

Like a football manager

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I look to myself for management

like a football team

who’s fans scream for their cup dream

I am in the depths of relegation instead

fans dreams are dead.

I fight disturbed sleep

waking up from bad dreams

screaming booing my own game

and the shame of losing

I am bruising

going into battle like a worn out team of veteran players

I am in need of better management and encouragement and prayers

not a self talk that swears

schizophrenia and autism a toxic mix

and sometimes I cannot help but feel like a dick

another penalty going against me

I withdraw to the stands

the best laid plans

of a team with high hopes and dreams

but I keep screwing up my own team.

I am too inconsistent

Middle table in the conference is too high an expectation

when I meet my friends like fans they don’t understand

and give me a frosty reception.

Give me back my dreams

of being a winning football team

putting four past the opposition

That’s my metaphor and my disposition.

Medusa

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We all have it in us to bear a curse

that is worse than playing the victim

You used to be beautiful

now your lips are cold

and full of venom

behind your fangs

are the same hunger pangs

Braided hair now shakes with snakes

which bite and hiss

you used to be a temptress

now you turn people to stone

they leave you all alone

Beautiful woman savage with revenge,

avenge

what was taken away

the sky burns red

what was taken

Can never be given back

your tail snakes a hypnotic rhythm

Beautiful cataclysm

I turn to stone just another victim

In your eyes…

I live at the borders of your life

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I seem to live at the borders of your life

I don’t have a passport to visit your country

I live at your borders

we both know people and have mutual friends

but we both know love doesn’t hide in your heart for me

it’s protected by metaphorical dogs security guards walls and gates

I would love to see you but we never worked

I wish you well

time will tell

if my decisions were correct

I still pray for you and respect your decisions

you have a family and a bright burning life

I live alone and have no wife

or children

I live in the land of could have been

but with all I have seen

this life passes by like a dream

and all our plans and schemes

can fail

and we flounder in the dark

where we lose our spark

but love is a door without a key

to me.

Strength unbowed

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Strength unbowed

Savaged by words

but unbowed

and unbroken

I wish I wasn’t bothered

I wish I didn’t care

courage is sometimes acknowledging our fear

using it to drive us on

the art of leaning on adrenaline

sometimes I rattle the cage

the only war I wage is to be heard

above the caterwauling cattle

who prattle on.

but sometimes I know we all need to be heard

so I go silent for days

the only words are prayers

so strength is adaption

and love is peace

feast upon silence

don’t turn it into violence

fight for yourself because no one else will

it’s a bitter pill

that makes me depressed and ill

but I will fight until I can no more

because life is flawed

and we stand alone

Heavens our home

It was at the start

before our hearts

got jaded

My body may fade

but words are sharp as the day they were uttered

may you live a life without the clutter

of weak words.

Mr Bluesman

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Mr bluesman

Strum those chords

croon that tune

Mr bluesman

you understand the blues

even if in life you didn’t choose

to live those sad times

Life chimes

some times it burns out

like a bouncing fag end

sometimes you can’t pretend

that it’ll work out for the better

we write those letters

those songs

for it’s this life that sometimes goes wrong.

Mr bluesman

play your songs

in pubs and in high street bars

look to the stars

be inspired by your scars

this life plays the blues

just like you

so play your chords

with your fingers

love doesn’t linger

but it burns

all the way down like strong neat whiskey

It’s intoxicating

mr bluesman

sing with confidence and conviction

Singing songs is your addiction.

Jesus I am alone

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The heartaches when I am in my home

pretending people are with me

my heart is a icy block a sullen stone

Sometimes in solitudes den

I pretend that I am free when

I am on my own

I am just recovering from life’s traumas

Sometimes I pretend I am jesus in a tomb

in my living room

waiting to roll away the stone

and be free with people who love me

but often people talk over my ideas

and conversation

I know I am alone

but with the voice in my head I never truly am

life is painful but I know I am!

alive and fighting wrestling with life’s gaping questions

and although people won’t agree with me

I am the marks the footprints I have left

I am the ideas that crept into your head from a poem I wrote years ago

my life is art

and it drives my heart

but like paper sometimes I am lost in the bin

of life

sometimes in mundane drudgery we find that life is unkind

but it’s the only one I have…

Life inverted

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He sells himself and his soul

for money to the highest bidder

His soul has long since withered

Tells people he believes in god

but believes in the pound and the crown

his love is only a noun

a name for something that lives underground.

He’s a politician

He only cares about money

and his power and authority

he’s in the minority

because he’s rich

Poor people are just opportunities

to him

just tools to use to win

this rat race

which he believes he’s risen above

no love

enters his heart

life is insane and it rips people apart.

This life is inverted dark becomes light

light becomes dark

we’ve lost our spark.

The psychopaths logic runs this world

the devils a lie the popes calling from hell

the president has a direct line

stars align.

We are fated to fall

no one can stand tall

When we follow the system

or we are apathetic

Part of a pathetic resistance

every where we look a false story

told as if we are ordinary

It’s scary.

We are god there is no separation

but power and money are forces of corruption

there is so much disruption.

This life is inverted

As above so below

the good are bad

the happy are sad

the rich are poor

the intelligent are dumb

psychiatric wards are full of story tellers and poets

they know the truth no one else can grow it

we preach to the cracks in the pavement no hearts can grow

grow your own

hide in your home alone

be the change you want to see

or be drowned in a sea

of denial.

which of us can smile

when people in Gaza die?

We have lost our humanity

Life inverted,

upside down

the only people who lead us are clowns

Last laugh

Psychopaths.

Singing

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Singing like a weird squirrel in my head voice

the choice

of what to sing

some times I cling to easier ones to do

sometimes pitching songs I haven’t got a clue

The unusual warm up exercises

Lip trills, support through breath control

Pitching notes

fingers in mouth tongue twisters

flattening the tongue

annunciating pronunciation

makes sure you hit the notes

Getting the dynamics right in the song

highs and lows

Emotions flowing strong

feeling the rhythm

and the bass and beats

when it’s hard to pitch

don’t retreat

I know my voice is low and rather than a tenor or a baritone I am a base

but I love singing and creating songs

look at my smiley face!

Black ribbon

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Black ribbon

needs driven

stockings and suspenders

it’s mad our endless drive

for sex

black rimmed specs

A sexually active secretary

bends into an awkward pose

one you have chose

to fore fill your fantasy

Baring all

her vulva a coin slot

waiting for an offering

her ass like a forbidden fruit

In which to shoot

Your shot

your seed

in a garden of need.

Alice in chains

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Chained through your timelines

you say release you from the curse

the curse of loving me.

I know the bite of your mouth

the viscous vicious nature of your tongue

We both see things from only our point of view

a blood red hue.

You try to reach me through the crowd

Sometimes I hear you loud

and sometimes you whisper

like the wind

This is my curse to know the truth

while in denial

there is no proof

I fight a desperate battle to be heard

maybe you will one day.

In the overtones of songs are the echoes of the promise we made

over every grass blade

our delirium

our love

our blood song curse

we are chained to the words we have said

they flow in our veins

I am your twin flame but we are caught in tragedy

separated

by lies

and our clones who stand as jealous spies

You are the light in my eyes

the only one.