Bingo Forum

[jamesb991999]

POETRY:

The art of science:

Graceful and athletic the matrix combines,
with positive and negative always entwined,
the forces of nature,
the power of science,
in harmony with life and paint, as are all things.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
but some only see shape without colour,
or colour without shape,
or size without context,
and size and shape and colour are the good things.

Irony is an unfunny comedy,
but what is unfunny to some,
is the most humorous affair to others,
is the best most colourful drama,
as surveys and opinions will show.

Calculation of interpretation,
is more than an internal thing,
this is the most intense reaction,
this is the worst untrained decision,
But we all have our own opinions.

Her Way:

I see by the way that she looks in my eyes,
by the way that she leaves it to me to decide,
by the way that she walks,
by the way that she sighs,
by the way that she talks,
as she looks in my eyes.

I see by the way that she touches my arm,
by the way that she makes me feel just so calm,
by the way that she's not.
by the way that she'll be,
by that way that she's got,
as she's talking to me.

I see by the love and respect in her face,
by the things that she says as she arrives at me place,
by the way that she stays,
by the way that she goes,
by the way that I praise,
every moment she knows.
So called Summer:

The trees were leafed early,
The sky isn't right,
The Sun stays up until too late in to the Night,
The moon isn't cycling,,
The fields are not full,
An Eagle swoops down and preys on a Gull,
The rain won't stop falling,
The flood of my time,
The winter still laughing pleased with it's crime,
The climate's all wrong, too cold and too moist,
The land is screaming with a pain yet unvoiced,
The people don't notice too tied up and planned,
Knowing deep down that they've done this to the land.


Deciding without choice:

If the decision was made or the option was chose,
Then I wasn’t there when the deal was closed,
So the whole thing turned out bad and I am to blame,
Though I knew nothing of it or the decision they gave,
When the choice came about and they all said aye,
I wasn’t there to confirm it that Day,
Now the mud’s hit the fan and they need some poor lamb,
To go to the slaughter and they tell me I am that Man.


Knowing the end is coming:

Black thoughts,
Dark dreams,
Light is faded at the end it seems,
Time going faster,
And then still faster,
As we rush to meet our maker,
None the wiser,
Or any easier,
For knowing this is getting nearer..

Death leans,
Dread scenes,
Engulfing blackness is this entire means,
Pain and misery
Wracking my whole body,
As I’m hooked up to a ventilator machine,
Press the switch and cut out,
Any hope that I’ll live this out,
At least let my death if not life be clean.

Abide With me, in blasphemy:

Oh come let us adore him,
Oh come let us adore him,
Why should we adore him,
What’s he done for me?
Fucked me up with this misery,
Leaving my body cracked with it’s history,
Leaving me craving to die to stop this pain,
I might complain,
I might just say why should I fucking adore him,
Christ the lord!


Love:

My love waits to be re-ignited,
Still undecided but undenying,
Whatever I say, however I lie,
I need to be loved again before I die,
Need to feel a head upon my chest,
To hold and cherish and caress,
To feel united, my love ignited,
To be fulfilled, and be complete,
To love the girl lying at my feet,
To hear the breathing as they lay,
And hear the emotion as they say,
They love me too.

Loss of Faith/ Life and hope:

Bloody Battered, hurt and shattered,
Sunken eyes staring wide,
Limp and lifeless dead inside,
Faces that should not see,
Such horrific catastrophe,
No children’s cry,
Could describe,
The hate defined,
By the evilness in human mind.
For a cause that they claim is their right,
The only way to fight,
But that’s not true or fair to say,
A woman looks them in the eyes,
Sees the babies terrified,
And hatred makes her sacrifice them,
Instead of mothering or cherishing them,
No cause, no love no hate no evil could be even comparable,
Heartless, Senseless wasted people,
Emotional wreckage and mothers weeping,
Rebels in unity, Martyrs fighting reality,
Bombs and dust and huddled babes,
The cycle of violence and hand grenades,
Gunfire shelling,
Parents weeping, dead babies like they are sleeping,
A hatred swelling the countries grief,
Lifes stolen by a heartless thief,
Mothers wailing, children crying,
Huddled among the dead and dying,
Revenge is planned by men unmanned,
Knowing they did this to their own land,
Knowing that the violence they face, is their own violence with another face,
Knowing that this is the worst you can get,
No parent should ever see their children dead.


Mania:

Asleep at the wheel, I wake and turn up the speed,
Thinking at the back of my mind the fear of crashing will wake me,
It doesn’t, it just makes me more tired, as the trees rush past,
Knowing the harder I push the quicker I’m home, in my bed,
Feeling the road and the safety slipping away,
Knowing that this is to be the end of my day,
That I forfeit my mind and my soul and my life,
That the penalty I’m paying is the worst sacrifice,
But apart from the loss of my soul and myself,
Theirs others who could pay with the loss of their health,
That my moment of stupidity, my mania that’s led,
Could see someone else’s child or partner be dead!

Mornings that drag:

If I look past the walls and the floors,
Look past the windows the frames and the doors,
Look to the outside how far it is away,
See the sun shining alight on this day,
Not happy at all to be stuck here inside,
Feel I could just run right out there and hide,
Feeling alone before the early shift start,
Wishing that being here didn’t tear me apart,
Feeling creativeness, vision and more,
Drifting away from me when I walk in the door,
I don’t think it’s here though, maybe it’s just me,
Maybe I look at it all way too cynically,
Perhaps I should think of the good that it brings,
The paycheck, the money and similar things,
I’m not that unhappy every moment I am here,
Just in the Mornings when nobody is near,
Maybe I should work from just ten o’clock til five,
And then know that the rest of the time I will be happy to be alive.



Friends who are too far away:

Listen to the wind, how far it has traveled,
How many oceans has it crossed to reach me,
Look at the Sun, and know that it’s is the same one that she will see,
It makes me smile to think of it in that way,
Knowing that we will share it all properly on some day,
Hopefully sooner than later, hopefully hotter than it is here,
Hopefully better than here,
But hope is based on more than thought,
More than dreams or wishes wrought,
Hope is based on knowledge and being sure,
That our friendships based on more,
More than hope and more than dreams,
Knowing how much she means,
Knowing that it hurts every day,
At how far she is away,
Knowing that this will not be,
From now until eternity,
Knowing that we will be together,
Laughing, happy, like that forever.

Women 1:
Following on from a theme in a novel I wrote, where the hero was battered embittered and broke,
Let me give my advice and you can heed or you don't, you can listen or not but I'll bet that you won't,
The reason for this is that people all find, that with advice on Women they don't like my kind,
They don't like the fact that I'm choosy you see, guess that's just something that always will be.
For the facts as they are - are all listed below, guess I have morals and perhaps "Yes" they show;

I can't be as subjective as you,
I can't be as selective as you,
I see beauty in almost all the Women I meet,
I can't help but sigh when beauty passes in the street,
But deep down I am selective,
Deep down I am subjective,
Deep down I want someone to laugh with me,
Deep down I want someone to cry with me,
Deep down I want someone who can chat with me,
It's easy to be caught up in just a pretty face,
Easy to forget about manners and grace,
Easy to kiss the first girl that I see,
Easy to lower myself for all my friends to see,
Easy for friends to look in my eyes,
And tell me that with me and my standards they sympathize.

Space: (The final Fronts here).

It’s not without wonder at how we exist,
At how we arrived or how we exit,
A wonder that all that we know and adore,
At how space and then time go on for ever more,
At how when we dream, we know it’s not real,
At how lonely wondering about it makes us all feel,
Better to accept the time that we get,
Better than dying filled with bitterness and regret,
Better to live just one day that is good,
Than to spend our whole life wondering if we should,
If we should bother to live and to adore,
This life that is happy no less and no more,
This time that is filled with wonder and with lust,
This life that is peopled with hate and mistrust,
Better to be happy and dream of the space,
That has brought us all to this happy place,
Think of the future that you have from here,
Exploring the whole of your life’s hemisphere.


Again:

I decided Today on the past and the first,
Knowing I loved her the best and the worst,
Knowing I spent some time I'll not forget,
Knowing that deep down I'm not over her yet,
But seeing then there's beauty all around,
But seeing the things that amaze and astound,
Seeing her clearly or talk on the wire,
Seeing her breathing, her looks and attire,
Seeing the way she looks in her chair,
Seeing the wind mess up her hair,
Talking or emailing avidly I'd await,
For a message or phone call that says it's from her.

More War:

A thousand Men a thorny field,
Only my comrades for a shield,
Blood and guts and pain and sweat,
Knowing the suffering won't end yet,
Knowing I ignore the loss of brothers,
Unaware of all the others,
A programmed thought inside my head,
I've got to see all the enemy dead.

A million Men a time to die,
Watching the destruction pass me by,
Seeing the end of all their dreams,
Ripped and wrenched apart at the seams,
Hearing orders shouted out,
following them all without a doubt,
Kill your enemy is what they said,
So I'll push along then until I am dead.

A trillion Men a single gun,
That's the way these wars are won,
A Brother saved no time for praise,
As he then stumbles in to a bullets blaze,
A scream an end that stopped me still,
Losing all my strength to kill,
Standing still and lost instead,
A bullet hit me and now I'm dead.


Love Lies:

She told me the truth from the very first date,
I thought well whatever happens that is just fate,
And I tried not to fall head over heels,
But I guess that this is how being wrong feels.
We met while away and it really was strange,
That I fell for somebody beautiful for a change,
We met up since then and I wished things had been,
Something quite different from what I have seen,
But I confess that I do miss her every Day,
And know that the chance we will meet up soon is nay,
But I do hope that she does well in her life,
And I know that someday she’ll make Dave a good wife.
Still if they ever split up or she fancies a change.
She knows she can ring me for a happy exchange.

Passion:

Unbridled passion never ending,
Heat and flame with no pretending.
Fire and Thunder all in one,
Spent emotions until they are gone.
Desire and lust there I think,
Hot and Sweating past the brink.
Knowing that our body and our mind,
Are forever intimately entwined.



AN ENVIRONMENT WHERE PEOPLE GET ON BY GETTING ON.

I sit across from them and me, knowing how it's going to be,
How just because they know the score, they will end up at work with more,
Thinking of what I should do, A tribunal each or maybe two,
Knowing that it's not right, maybe what I should do is fight,
Thinking if I did that then, I could bring down these selfish Men,
Seeing Nepatism and greed and hate,
I still decide that I should wait,
Because however much it's "jobs for the boys",
Sometimes you don't want to make any noise,
and it's not solely the fault of the Man at top,
It's the middle Managers who need to stop,
The men who fell in to that position, not from skill or wit or vision,
But by a friendship, or by luck or by crook,
Either way that's where they've stuck..
My trouble's not the way I'm treated,
Or the actions that these fools have meted,
But more the lack of work ethic or ability,
That these people have compared to me.


THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SETTING SUN.

The green floral panarama, the beauty of this flowing vista,
The sweet smell of Rose and honeydew,
The Pastures that disapear out of view,
The beauty of the setting Sun,
The Bluebells, Dandelions, rhodedendrum,
The passion of the Weeping Willow,
The fashions of the here and now,
This place that now I seem to be,
This beauty flowing over me..
The scene that's etched for ever more


Sometime sorry just isn’t an option,

Though you are not exactly sure what you can do,
What thing you can say to apologise,
Or even what you are apologising for,
But you know you annoyed someone,
Know you pissed off someone,
And you don’t want that, it’s not right,
Nobody wants to argue and fight,
Especially with someone that is so nice,
And this is the dilemma….
And even if saying sorry doesn’t help,
It’s something I really need to say,
Something I really need to do,
So please accept my sincere apology to you!.

Sometimes the waiting makes you shiver,
Fearing that any expectation they have is one you could never deliver,
Feeling that definitely and without a doubt,
Whatever you do will freak them out,
That you have to spend an hour on your hair,
And hope beyond hope that they really won’t care,
About a hole in your clothes,
Or a bump that you’ve had all your life in your nose,
About a thing that you utter,
As you try not to stutter,
The beautiful girl that you expect comes through the door,
And then there’s no time to wonder anymore,
As your expectations are met or exceeded en mass,
As you look at her smile not her ass,
As you avert your eyes from the curves of her figure,
Trying to think but your brain won’t deliver,
The words or the prose that will make you seem cool,
So you just say hello Olivia, my name’s James like a fool,
Then you offer her a drink and chat for an hour,
Hoping beyond hope that this meeting won’t turn sour.
But you know from the talk that you’ve had with girls on the phone,
That what you don’t want to end up is alone,
That you really like the girl you see,
And think, “I really hope that she also likes me”


Bastedo the Italian Toreador:

While the crowd roared and women screamed,
and the bull roared and the dreamers dreamed,
While the flags flew,
and first blood was drew;
The fighter closed his eyes and said a prayer,
he'd do and dare,
For an Italian it wasn't the romance, it wasn't the fame,
or the bull to tame;
It was the chance to stand
up for his land;
To show the spanish what he could do,
right until first blood was drew.

While the cloth blew and the bull saw red,
and the crowd seemed to want to see somebody dead,
While the women cried,
and the men tried,
The fighter leaned down and knew his time had come,
as the bull closed slavering at the gum,
For a man named Bastedo, it was the end,
the very end;
As the claws clawed and the bull ran through,
It was then that the crowd knew Bastedos luck had not ran true.

The end of a bullfighter named Bastedo.

You are life:

Like a gull in the sky,
That wings from tree to tree,
With careless,
Reckless,
Most worry-free abandon;
I see that in some,
even many ways,
That bird is me,
And especially when I try.

But you are the land,
That calls to me,
You are the ground that feeds me,
You are the most perfect,
Most pure, blue lake that waters me, You are life,
love,
And I am just a bird.

But a bird needs a nest,
and that nest needs a tree.
The land that I choose,
must be lovely to me.
You are that land,
as you are the lake.
You are the Summers,
You are life.

For you:

I sit in the darkest room,
seeing the clearest pictures of you. I sat dreaming and knew that,
what I loved was you.

I drew a portrait, the fairest girl, it was you.
I closed my eyes,
and all I could see was you.

I lay, feeling the breeze on my chest, it was you.
I ached all night,
it was just for you.

For you:

I sit in the darkest room,
seeing the clearest pictures of you. I sat dreaming and knew that,
what I loved was you.

I drew a portrait, the fairest girl, it was you.
I closed my eyes,
and all I could see was you.

I lay, feeling the breeze on my chest, it was you.
I ached all night,
it was just for you.

Cigarette smoke in a crowded pub with Bob, Richard and the boys watching videos.

Let me tell a tale of woe and joy,
a tale of lads at play,
a story that the landlord remembers to this very day.
My friends and me were on the town,
and ready to have fun,
when one of them lit a fag and said he had to run.
We wanted him to stay,
and so we tied him to the chair,
It was with great abandon that we started on his hair.
Richard took his sideburns,
and Bobby took his back,
It wasn't me who took the front it was wildman Jack.
When we finished it was shawn,
in such a haphazard way,
when he finally saw what we'd done it sent him almost grey.

The landlord said get out you lads,
If this is your idea of fun,
"You are only youngsters no older than my son!".
Though this was true and we were drunk,
we didn't quite agree,
as we were out to have some fun - and that just had to be.
"We can't go now we're having laughs",
"We really have to stay!",
It was my pleasure as I said all this to landlord Ray.
He called the bouncer over,
who said "Get out you’re barred",
Disinclined to leave the site - "I said do you think you're hard?".
I remember that I stood there,
as smoke blew in my eyes,
wondering if I'd soon lose all my earthly ties.
The size of him was massive,
as though he was a giant tree,
unlikely to live much longer - I thought "What will be, will be!".
Then my friends Richard and Bobby,
dragged me through the door,
while I was still shouting "Right then this is war".
My mates all laughed and joked,
as we sang all down the road,
Until I finally collapsed on the floor in my abode.

How selfish the bad world is.


How selfish are the chosen few,
Who choose to judge what's false or true.
How lost and wicked are the ones,
Who rely on knives and fist and guns.
How shallow are the graves we dig,
When we just want to prove we're big.

How bad the world around us seems,
When all we want is to fulfil our dreams.
How easily they all shoot us down,
and leave you looking like a clown.
How bitter I seem to shout this way,
When I should look forward to a better day.

How long the days and nights then are,
As I dream of becoming some kind of star.
How right I was to sit and wait,
Instead of trying to change my fate.
I'd write and fall I'd rise and read,
Do my damnedest to succeed.

How wild and dangerous is the night,
That explodes with fear and dynamite.
How desperate is the rough and wild,
That claims an innocent little child.
I'd wait and wait and put on weight,
I'll try and try until I die.


Eye see more than you might think:

Behind me and all around me,
above me and in front of me,
the ice on the trees,
or the foam on the seas,
Eye see all the things that I need.

Chaos

Two children sit, blowing bubbles in the wind,
where the bubbles end up - Before they pop,
is chaos, and the children watch and learn;
As they watch them,
Blow away, wishing that they could play wherever the bubbles go.

Danny the young boy who blew the first bubble,
knows that at least his breath will be there;
But breathing alone is not life, and Danny wants to live,
but he can't live without breath,
so he watched his bubble fly away, fearing he may die.

Susie, who blew the next bubble,
sees her reflection go by,
and knows that her likeness will soon disappear;
But she will still be there, and Danny would be at her side,
but he is crying, as his bubbles fly away, fearing that he may die.

Age when joints crack

When I grow up to be my Grandad,
I will scream so loud, at the world;
That I'm unchanged; I'm still fit;
I'm still young.
So why do I fear that my scream will be a shrill whine,
that will end in a coughing fit?
So why do I fear that I'll take out my false teeth,
and put them in a glass by my bed?

When I am married to a Grandma,
I will shout out loud, at the world;
That I'm changed; I'm unfit;
Not young!
That's how I know that my fears grow with time,
so that will be the end of it!
That's how I know that still somewhere beneath,
I will be the same man until I'm dead!

Undermined undetermined

The lacklessly inventive,
My own folly undermines,
Below my own creativeness,
A murderer always lies.

The vacuously attentive,
At the best of times,
Belies my own retentiveness,
In another guise.

I am determined,
As I always am,
I am still determined,
As I always am.

The wrecklessly distrustful,
Of all given signs,
Being my own trustfulness,
Always undermined.



Play on words: (1)

It's the children’s want and life’s irony that parents say what will be, will be.
It's the rich and hard, the poor and weak, the ones who're told not to speak.
It's all the things that make life rich, apparently!
It's all the things that make the rich life, definitely!
Sweet and sour, exact and vague - that means you stand out in a crowd.
If you draw the curtain, and watch them act,
you can be imprisoned or even sacked.
If you wear the greasepaint, don the clothes,
you'll keep the audience on their toes,
But if they clap or scream and shout,
you bet your arse they'll want you out.
But children do and adults don't,
Watching the scene unfold, invoke.
Watching rich people getting fat,
eating rich foods and dressing their spoilt brats.

Scene 2: Expression without words

With a mere gesture a wave of hand,
They make the audience understand.
With a drop of gait and shake of leg,
They make the audience believe they're dead.
But it all takes time and patience you see
With mind and thought and whole body.
He mimes, he mimics,
He times with gimmicks;
A standing ovation, a proud occasion,
A little thought, provoking season.


Scene 3: Backstage

Scared, ten minutes to go on,
"Make-up!", I can't go on.
"Is this my best side?"
"Do you like my clothes?".
"All I say's two words and a couple of Ooo's"
"When's my entrance?
"Motivation?"
"When's my finale?"
"Oscars?"
"Awards and money!"

Like a bird (Part I):

Flightless, like some wingless bird.
Seeing the grey country,
that I'll never fly over again.
Black day,
Grey day,
Blue night.
The snow that failed to settle,
on my clipped wings.
Countries moving around each other,
Worlds even, people uneven.
Unsure,
Unseen,
Undone.
A tear that flows free, threatening to undo me,
with its deep roots.
At least it's unbound until the hot sun dries it up,
drives it up;
Up in the sky,
where I should be.

(Part II):
Flightlessly crossing green leaf with gentle meadows,
yet I long to fly free like some sort of cloud,
that has no worldly ties,
yet it all comes too slowly.

Weariness comes with my growing wings,
and I fear that by the time I can fly I'll be exhausted.
It's not unnatural to want what others have is it?
For am I not the cog that helps bring their dreams to reality?

Now I flee my earthly cage as so many others have before me,
and to unearthly realms I go -
As all must,
even those that like being tied down.

It's not as I thought, my strength growing,
as I rise on my ascent,
all about me fading,
In to a beautiful haze of misty green.

Even now,
free!
I look back on my memories,
as a child looks forward to the ones he might soon have..

Bouncy, bouncy:

Bouncy, bouncy,
bouncy, bouncy,
"Out to lunch!",
On a high,
Watching the people,
Pass me by.
"Open all hours!",
"Maiden Taiwan!",
Life's a beast,
an "almost ran!"

Bouncy, bouncy,
bouncy, bouncy,
"Smile you're on camera!",
"Say cheese please!",
"Watch the birdie!",
"Pay the fees!"
Comments and orders,
That others make,
Decisions and motions,
That others take.

Watch, look, and listen:

Some people watch what others will never see,
I seem to miss things like that,
Some people look and know what's about to be,
I seem to miss things like that,
Some people listen to shells and say they hear the sea,
I always miss things like that.

Others say they can't watch things that are on TV,
I never seem to have that problem,
Some people claim that I NEVER will agree,
I don't agree with that,
Others listen to what I say and never want to be me,
It's a good job I do!


Truth

Do not waste those gifts you have,
though it seems hard to try.
Do not waste those hands you have,
though sometimes you wonder why.
Why these gifts are yours,
why you hands hurt,
why your heart bleeds.
Why it's your destiny, to succeed.

But still, do not waste those talents,
that make you stand out.
Do not waste those talents,
that fill you full of doubt.
Doubt not yourself,
doubt not heart,
it was your destiny, right from the start.

But now, you wonder at your progress,
the worlds too slow for you.
You wonder at it's eagerness,
to swap what's false and true.
Truth is you're too late,
truth is you're too old,
that was always your destiny, when truth was told.

Emotional Content:

Not anger, emotional content.
Watch finger and you miss all de heavenwy gwory,
Watch skwy and miss finger,
Always define your own gwoals,
Always rely on your own balance.

Not hanger, himotional content.
See Man bwehind miss one in fwont,
See one in fwont miss one bwehind,
Suffer your own pain only,
Suffer as calm as you can.

No anger, emotional content.
Look to the pain and you miss the skill,
Depend on skill and miss the pain,
wipe on wipe off,
wash on, wash off.


The sad and lonely minstrel

I play to the balconies,
in my every day life.
I play with my fantasies,
in my own private life.
I pray to my forefathers,
that I don't like to admit.
I pray to my lovers,
that I fail to re-quit.

I fail in my abstinence,
in my own private life.
I fail in my commitment,
to my every day life.
I feel on my own,
and now I'll admit,
that the more I am damned,
then the less I'll commit.

Go weary in to that cold night

Do not go tired in to that cold night,
do not try so hard that you lose your real sight,
do not work up a cold and languid sweat,
do not give up on your goal quite yet.

But above all do not go weary in to that cold night,
filled with lightning, thunder and dynamite,
do not yawn and do not tire,
do not end up in the mire.

For those that do, there's those that don't,
and those who will, there's those who won't,
and if you falter, begin to fade,
remember then to make the grade.

In your wisdom do not go groggy in to that grim night,
do not argue and do not fight,
For if you do then you will see,
You will end up just the same as me.

People places same old faces:

Rifling through my old photos or memorabilia, I do wonder at where people went,
How things and places have changed,
Where friends and lovers went, and
I think that I wouldn't recognise them again.

When I was at a Wedding party last week, I thought I saw someone I used to know,
They glanced at me in the same way as well, As if I was someone they knew, and
I felt safely certain that was the case.

She looked like a girl who I'd had a crush on, and she was looking at me as if with words,
I went over just in case,
And then she did speak, and I knew those words, They were exactly what I was thinking.

"Don't I know you?"

The lady knows the score

It was cold and late when you passed my house last,
I know because I was watching,
your walk.
It was the first time I'd seen you for a while,
I know you were ignoring me,
as usual.
But you knew the score - that I was looking,
I suppose it was quite obvious,
who cares.
But you are used to better things - men,
I suppose you deserve them,
you do.
It was damp and chilly when you passed my house first,
I know because I was cutting,
the grass.
It was the same every time after,
I know you were ignoring me,
as usual.
But you knew the score - that I was looking,
I suppose it was quite obvious,
who cares.
But you are used to better things - men,
I suppose you deserve them,
you do.


The Plastic Chandelier:

Gravely I grovel on the gravel at Gravely Hall,
My shammy in my left hand.
my right in a sling.
If I'm very lucky they might give me a new task,
if I'm not, I might have to clean their plastic chandelier.
I'm only usually lucky in love!

Squirt, squirt I spray on the plastic cleaner,
trying carefully to pretend I can't tell it's plastic,
knowing if I do I'm out of a job,
ending up daydreaming,
not knowing, or noticing anyway as I "Ooaah!" myself -
in to a mental grave.

Dodging the dust and the debris,
I look down the halls at the rich folk,
seeing that they don't even notice me,
or if they do ignoring me, in their elegant dress,
and their stepladder feet,
as they look down on me with distaste.

It's more than a minor mystery,
how I manage to stop myself laughing at them,
and shouting out loud about their plastic chandelier,
and their pompous,
self indulgent fantasies,
about power, money, and land.

But through short, sharp, silence,
I realise I'm being unfair to these peoples,
I know nothing of them, as they know nothing of me,
Perhaps it would be good,
if I did,
Tell the world about their plastic chandelier.

Too much and too little!

Too much and too little,
all the things I have,
and want;
all the things I want,
and have. There's always that,
that dark sorrow,
that black shadow,
that unrequited, overbearing love.

Why should the deeps,
the deeps of the sea lie?
Why would disaster - want,
to prevent hurt.
Too little and too much,
all the things I could have,
could have had.

Truths, hold so much false,
sympathy.
Malice a long lost grail,
that can sell itself,
dear in the night.
A deer in the dark, black shitty night.
That night.........

Love?:

Eternally,
Hopefully,
Fitfully long, she goes on.
Boringly,
Waitingly,
She stops, and nods her head.
Belongingly,
Longingly,
Lusfully,
Mustfully,
She screams in anticipation.
Buildingly,
Wideningly,
Lovingly, over she screams again.
Fulfilled?


Nonsense, you bet!

Whike love and wait, the Samsons perile;
I understand as lust is a devil,
withstand rocks and feril,
shanks and pilsters still in peril.

Put down the arms and cuffs of ware,
dat rata she will proffer there;
A stop and stitter,
as rain is past ire a bitter.

But shaire is to gallow,
as pyre is to willow,
and feel is to deer,
as foal is to steer.

They're want and waste,
as grearsome gait,
but bite the bullett,
and climb the summit.

Wiff she on that hill so drier,
her contacts be with her deer squire;
Or wanteth haste,
and wanting must, it will end in a fuss.

Lost love:

A summers lease,
to do my own thing!
Blue skies,
to accompany me.

Writing alone on the beach,
in the sand,
Bathing alone in the heat,
To the drum of the sea.

I unwillingly accept the clouds company,
turning like a crab,
A loveless, unlovable creature,
That no one sees.

Thrumm, thrumm, thrumm,
Something sound,
as I turn & tell myself,
that I love that noise!

Thrumm, thrumm, thrumm,
I fail to hear,
As I fall asleep,
alone!


Blame-Control and loss of faith

I am not in control of your actions,
Your problems.
I am not to blame for your troubles,
dillemas.
I am in charge of myself, my own self -
righteuos self.

Why do you still blame me?
Why do you rely on me?
Why won't you make love to me?
Why won't you return to me?

Why, can't I confide in you?
Why, are you so full of you?

I am not in awe of your favours,
Your charms.
I am not in a dillema about your name,
Your age, your sex.
I am not totally blameless -
Is anyone?

Have I lost your faith,
Your hand,
Your wonder,
Your love?

Have I lost your last gasp,
last shout,
last try,
last time?

More War:

A thousand Men a thorny field,
Only my comrades for a shield,
Blood and guts and pain and sweat,
Knowing the suffering won't end yet,
Knowing I ignore the loss of brothers,
Unaware of all the others,
A programmed thought inside my head,
I've got to see all the enemy dead.

A million Men a time to die,
Watching the destruction pass me by,
Seeing the end of all their dreams,
Ripped and wrenched apart at the seams,
Hearing orders shouted out,
following them all without a doubt,
Kill your enemy is what they said,
So I'll push along then until I am dead.

A trillion Men a single gun,
That's the way these wars are won,
A Brother saved no time for praise,
As he then stumbles in to a bullets blaze,
A scream an end that stopped me still,
Losing all my strength to kill,
Standing still and lost instead,
A bullet hit me and now I'm dead.


Her Way:

I see by the way that she looks in my eyes,
by the way that she leaves it to me to decide,
by the way that she walks,
by the way that she sighs,
by the way that she talks,
as she looks in my eyes.

I see by the way that she touches my arm,
by the way that she makes me feel just so calm,
by the way that she's not.
by the way that she'll be,
by that way that she's got,
as she's talking to me.

I see by the love and respect in her face,
by the things that she says as she arrives at me place,
by the way that she stays,
by the way that she goes,
by the way that I praise,
every moment she knows.


So called Summer:

The trees were leafed early,
The sky isn't right,
The Sun stays up until too late in to the Night,
The moon isn't cycling,,
The fields are not full,
An Eagle swoops down and preys on a Gull,
The rain won't stop falling,
The flood of my time,
The winter still laughing pleased with it's crime,
The climate's all wrong, too cold and too moist,
The land is screaming with a pain yet unvoiced,
The people don't notice too tied up and planned,
Knowing deep down that they've done this to the land.


Deciding without choice:

If the decision was made or the option was chose,
Then I wasn’t there when the deal was closed,
So the whole thing turned out bad and I am to blame,
Though I knew nothing of it or the decision they gave,
When the choice came about and they all said aye,
I wasn’t there to confirm it that Day,
Now the mud’s hit the fan and they need some poor lamb,
To go to the slaughter and they tell me I am that Man.


Love Lies:

She told me the truth from the very first date,
I thought well whatever happens that is just fate,
And I tried not to fall head over heels,
But I guess that this is how being wrong feels.
We met while away and it really was strange,
That I fell for somebody beautiful for a change,
We met up since then and I wished things had been,
Something quite different from what I have seen,
But I confess that I do miss her every Day,
And know that the chance we will meet up soon is nay,
But I do hope that she does well in her life,
And I know that someday she’ll make Dave a good wife.
Still if they ever split up or she fancies a change.
She knows she can ring me for a happy exchange.


Passion:

Unbridled passion never ending,
Heat and flame with no pretending.
Fire and Thunder all in one,
Spent emotions until they are gone.
Desire and lust there I think,
Hot and Sweating past the brink.
Knowing that our body and our mind,
Are forever intimately entwined.


THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SETTING SUN.

The green floral panarama, the beauty of this flowing vista,
The sweet smell of Rose and honeydew,
The Pastures that disapear out of view,
The beauty of the setting Sun,
The Bluebells, Dandelions, rhodedendrum,
The passion of the Weeping Willow,
The fashions of the here and now,
This place that now I seem to be,
This beauty flowing over me..
The scene that's etched for ever more.


My Way:

Fall down all the stairs that I’ve climbed,
Walk the paths that I’ve never denied,
Follow me and hear me say,
The things that have passed have all been my way,
Hear me scream and hear me shout,
Hear me tell you all about,
All about my loves and passions,
How I’ve never followed fashions,
Hear me deny, hear me howl,
Hear me now and know I lie,
Working out the perfect alibi,
Hear my ego, hear my pain,
And hear how hard I try, I can never explain,
Never work out and never say,
That this way is what got me to this point Today.


Smile, to light up a room,

To look in to her eyes,
And to describe her with my sighs,
Is all that I can do.
To wander at her hair,
And the clothes and stuff she’ll wear,
Is all I can do.
But something in that smile,
And the sexy fashionable style,
Is all that I can do.
The things that she’s written,
Have already left me smitten,
More than they should do.
Her eyes are just so pure,
That men (and me) will just adore,
Everything she will do.
And those features just evoke,
Some feelings they awoke,
What else could they do.
Nothing else will do.
*Smile*


Picture of you.

Think of a painting that’s flawless and clear,
Think of someone that makes you wish they were near,
Think of someone who’s words and their mind,
Make you wish that they could be by your side,
That they would kiss you, and hold you real close,
That they would kneel and kiss you as you arose,
That they would describe you in a similar way,
That this would happen before the end of the Day.

The picture gets clearer and now you can see,
The picture now showing is too good for me,
It’s edges and features defined by an artist,
Who’s mastery of beauty is just so complete,
And as you look on the face then appears,
And you whisper her name in to those painted ears.
The picture so perfect it could not be real,
Is the way that looking at you makes me feel.

A million hours without you:

I wait in a lonely hotel bar,
Wishing that you weren't so far,
Wishing that I was there with you,
Laughing, joking, even arguing too.
Wishing that we were there in bed,
Wishing that things were perfect instead,
Of me being far away from you,
I know that this is what you wish too.

Wishing things with us were better,
That having the rows there didn't bother you,
Wishing that all we had to worry about,
Was what time we had to go out,
Not what bills to pay or when,
Not the same old arguments again,
But know that whatever between us is said,
There's only 3 words that want to get out of my head,
Only 3 words that I want to,
Only 3 words that’s "I Love you!"

However much I say this though,
More than that I want you to know,
That it would pain me more than so,
If I had to ever let you go,
I want to grow so old with you,
And know that is what you want too.


The Ballad of Winson Green Gaol

My views about crime:

From humble beginnings I write and read,
Doing all needed to succeed, in life and love,
And anything more that opens up not closes doors,
I would not steal from brothers arms,
Or Trade in things not mine but theirs,
I will not do things that would thrust me out,
Send me in to their vicious circle,
Eyes wide with terror unsure and haunted,
Bound to a room that’s stained and small,
Brothers crushing the one least able,
Lifelines severed crushed unstable,
People who are unfulfilled,
Yet listed as being handled,
Being monitored being tracked,
Working, giving, taking slack,
Waiting for the cycles end,
But knowing it will start again,
Parole no more than short respite,
Before a season of darkened light,
But these things are no concern for me,
Who live my life so free of crime,
Hated of those who waste their time.

Accused of a crime:

The man was the guilty one in my eyes,
He did all the things that I’ve always despised,
But that wasn’t it, it was the things that he’d done,
To the one thing in this world I could love,
And destroying the things that I held so dear,
Made me lose my feelings, my compassion and fear,
I took his life and that’s a crime it’s fair to say,
But the things he had done made it have to be that way.
He deserved no sympathy, deserved no conceit,
No love and no passion, the heart of a thief…
His life was forfeit and it was not worth a part,
Of the thing he had wrenched screaming and kicking from my heart.



Convicted:

What can I say in defence of the position,
That being undone by a man is just cause,
To do something evil or cold or possibly worse,
To take that thing back in my eyes at least,
But his children, his kin the people who say,
I have stolen something from them on this day.
I guess I have started another cycle myself,
Of hatred and crime and purpose to destroy,
But it’s easier for me to be this way,
To accept that I have done this and it just had to be,
That what I have done was some closure to me,
So whatever is given, whatever is my Punishment,
I still had no choice in my own eyes to decide.


Stuck in that cycle:

I slop out, wash out, wash up, move on,
Do work, exercise, go down, go up,
Move left, move right, read books, watch TV,
Sleep nights, work days, make friends, lose friends,
Get beat, then sleep, then work then sleep,
See fights, dream nights, do work, then hurt,
Go numb, succumb, to hate, my fate,
Kill time, kill love, dumb down, dumb luck,
Goes on, and on.

[Kazza]

Cool

[jamesb991999]

Thank you hun :-) was writing 10 a day at one point - now about 10 a month - lol - although I have written 8 novels and loads of other stuff instead.. I am gonna try and get my novels published this year :-)

[Cags]

omg james thats some fab poetry you have there some sad too
all the best in getting them published fantastic

[Kazza]

I'm actually envious of you penmanship.

I used to love writing essays/novels etc when I was younger. Just don't seem to have the brain capacity for it these days.

I wish you luck getting them published. I'll put my name down for a signed first edition now.

[jamesb991999]

I will do :-) I am after an agent at the moment :-) spent the last month holidaying and working on them pretty much none stop (hence joining forums to chat - lol - cause my real life interraction has gone down )

xx

and thanks cags ;-)

[Loveable]

WOWSER! Good looking and talented!

Ladies we've landed on our feet with this one!

[jamesb991999]

and single loveable hehe

Nah not talented or good looking - but thank you anyway :-) I just love writing :-) and getting a bit addicted to bingo too - lol

xx

[Loveable]

dont you put yourself down hun, those are great poems! And if that is you in your picture, all I can say is have you not looked in the mirror lately???

If I were single, and maybe 10 years younger, Id be hitting on ya big time!

[jamesb991999]

Thanks :-) it's very hard to be objective over your own work so you never know.. and yes it's a picture of me - a very good one though - lol.. will post more in faces on forum thing :-)

[Cags]

If I were single, and maybe 10 years younger, Id be hitting on ya big time!
oiiiiiiiiiiiii hussy lol i saw him first well after kazza
your going to go far james remember us when you get rich

[Loveable]

do you read much James? Have you ever ready Cry Silent Tears by Joe Peters? I could try and put you in touch with him see if he could help with getting published

[shaz]

Wow they are fantastic.

Good luck with getting published xxx

[Cags]

[BohoPixie]

WOW! They are excellent, seems we have a man of many talents