POEM FOR THE WEAK

WEEK 1

Bare feet on bubble-wrap

My bare feet on bubble-wrap,

Little coloured squares,

Pyrite gold and Haematite,

Fascination stares…

Have a cuppa, check the post,

Catch me unawares,

Model gift for model girl,

If she ever cares,

WEEK 2

Work Ethic

So studious, industrious, to the heavens and the moon,

To the Goddesses and the Gods so on Earth by you thy will be done soon.

Failing this what then we see; for you, for them, for me?

For us the task is done by noon and none are paid our souls to swoon.

While nuns serve soup to the poor, study, work and make some more,

Till one becomes two and two then four and say it’s I we did it for.

Form it mine, for me, I met in you, your morphed time; you act, we do.

We are morphed action, you’re a tune… play to our dance,

Feel the rhythm, Sacred Star or Claire de Lune.

WEEK 3

Infatuousness

If I cud I would never leave your side.

I would always be honest and in you –confide;

And if I cud I would comfort you if you cried.

Saw you once, that was enough

Ooh, infatuousness.

You’re my living dream –my reality.

Do you know what it’s like to really yearn?

See my vision to free my yurt…

A dream image I see my buoy,

But he’s a living reality to me.

“You’re my reality.”

Dream about’cha every night,

Astral dreaming while in flight,

Your vision subsides as I wake

New ones starting day-dreams I make.

… Daydreamin’

And if I could I would never leave my dream.

I need no picture on my wall.

The image from my mind will never fall,

“You’re my infatuation.”

Listen to mp3

WEEK 4

Depend

I’m in at the deep end, I’m sinking fast,

‘Used to be your fist love, now I’m your lasg,

I’m in at the deep end, drowning in sorrow,

You’re here today but gone tomorrow.

Floating on the river of love…

Looking upwards never down oh no no.

My love is running with the tide…

My love is running with the tide.

Now I’m drowning in the deep end.

I’d like to think I’d jump in your boat,

Into the shallows, throw me a float,

I’m caught in a whirlpool getting in to debt,

Don’t let the waves go over my head.

Floating on the river of love…

Looking upwards never down…

My love is running with the tide…

My love is running with the tide,

Now I’m drowning in the deep end.

I’m treading water and tears are splashing,

Pass me a life jacket, breakers are crashing.

Jump off the edge, swim back to mine…

…come on in –the waters fine.

Floating on the river of love…

Looking backwards never no.

My love is running with the tide…

Now I’m drowning, going under…

Listen to mp3

WEEK 5

The week that never was

This ain’t happening.

You aren’t reading this.

We’re not thinking.

There’s nothing in the basket.

This is the week that never was.

WEEK 6

Dissatisfaction remains

Insults instead of love games,

Dissatisfaction remains,

Pointless- all our human gains,

Aching bones and heart restrained,

Climbing off my high horse –it’s too late, there’s no-one there,

No one to love, to share, my feelings to bear, without care,

Lots of empty underwear and nobody there, it doesn’t feel fair.

WEEK 7

Prevention of prosperity

She’s been made a conduit of my exposure.

“We’ll tell her fibs so she never knows yer!”

Isolate him. Hold him down. Keep her from him. Rule their town.

So he wears our sorry frown, never gaining wife nor crown,

But a fool- the public clown, pallid, lonely and driven underground.

WEEK 8

The Larks’ song

Until at last, an Aladin’s cave he had built around him.

Organised true-his treasure collection (to the Gods merely shiny bottle-tops and buttons) a synchronicity,

All a gift for her when he can no longer be with her,

So when by death they are then divided; their connection only ever touching at a point,

Bound- they never meet but together they will be always.

I am expired. My life is no more yet I hear thee still-

-or is it the Lark that sings in the garden,

Its’ song of love who’s echo is the early morning’s tale:

“The Magpie he did imitate

The Zebra played a horse

The Collie ran to round the flock

The Panda ate its’ course”

Chequered, his black and white story that sung he full, and the colour of no flower showed he,

Until, with my life, dusk’s fading grey consumed the shadowy forms.

WEEK 9

Won’t belong

Won’t be long until we belong

And our duet will lead the song

It’s so right it can’t be wrong

At last we join the merry throng

WEEK 10

Slave to love

We’re a slave to our bodies- a slave to our hearts,

We gotta go when we gotta go and we can’t hold our farts.

Forget etiquette, culture and the arts,

I’m a victim to the tarts; they put on make-up for their parts.

Footballs in goals and shopping carts, anyone fancy a game of darts?

WEEK 11

The fools’ tree

She ain’t just barking up the wrong tree, she’s in the wrong part of the forest.

Following tempting paths that lead her to be more lost,

Recognising only that which she once knew she was looking for.

A stranger in the forna, outstaying her welcome as she breathes in deep the Lavender.

Misplaced- she uses smalltalk with colloquial rhetoric and blunders her way to the glory

she so requires from others around to support her crazy reasoning,

-Send her home.

WEEK 12

She’s not very well at the moment

She’s mentally ‘in the stable’

Horseplay on the ward, and of her own accord,

At this particular stage in her life she’s no wife for Able,

Eat the rusk and leave the cane, whether he’ll be there again?

Predict the cards laid on the table- future’s but a sorry fable.

Mighty strong the insults bored her,

Like her, he could have ignored her.

Tainted love a lifetime stain, stupid now- just sad remains.

Will you take your medication?

What to lose? What not to gain?

WEEK 13

Section 17

Dope the people for a buck

Surely they don’t care a fuck

About the patients they destroy

Lives abandoned, not enjoyed.

Take the pill the public pays,

Doctors on their holidays

While the users fill the ward

In the madness, trapped and bored,

Lock them up and force it down if they refuse then hold them down,

Use a needle –nasty jab! Hypodermic need to stab!

It’s their duty we’re at fault,

The law’s a licence to assault!

WEEK 14

Are you taking your medication?

WEEK 15

In the pink

If he catches a glimpse of anything in pink or wearing a skirt, his penis makes a beeline for it.

Her knees are showing- she must want it, what’s for sure he can’t ignore it.

High heels make his heart race; if he were in his car he’d floor it…

Typical male, his blinkers are on and his gaze is fixed on her blouse,

The cleavage showing will more than him arouse.

Thanks to God it ain’t a see-thru else his gripped stare should surely tear it!

WEEK 16

The Veil of White horse

Lift her black lace veil and see her pretty bright eyes,

A first glimpse would bring wisdom to the wise,

Jealousy will wallow in the lies,

beneath the veil of the white horse.

Walk on, walk on, then drugged you’re on your back in this,

It won’t be long before your sleepy feeling is more than utter bliss,

Step this way and feel the fist, “on your way-“ a rough finger wags your direction,

to the vale of the white horse.

“I’m right behind you”, and lacy is my behind,

Something to sit on “It’ll never please the blind”

To kill the subject would be considered too unkind,

What a thing to come across, what a thing to find…

beneath the veil of the white horse.

WEEK 17

The Unwanted Stalker

Oh Go away! No solidarity please!!

How can I get rid of it?

It bothers me, turning up like that,

What can I possibly do with him?

This is harassment for sure,

Viagra personified, not needed here.

Whenever she enters his head, He’s the unwanted stalker!

WEEK 18

Female Status

No, be fair, Quo’s not tundral music, Don’t just stare, and don’t refuse it,

Thumbs in jean belt loops –do your shoulder dance(lol), dress in your knickers, he’s no ponse!

It makes a beggar out of belief- the smell of his knob, fancy a nibble luv? Corn on the cob?!! (ha ha ha)

‘Ow ‘bert sum gravy? You sound like a cat! Regarding it Darlin’ the size is too fat.

Pick up a chicken, a battery twat, donate an egg for a share in his flat,

Whiff of the cheese and she’s well up for that,

Off for a real ale, his status is female.

WEEK 19

Meain’t well

Today ten poems I did write

A true love on my mind

True love I did not mean for them to seem at all unkind.

WEEK 20

Almost twelve

He gave the slut a greet part

(She really is a neat tart)

As you create your street art

So they enjoy your Sweet art.

So buddy don’t get jealous

Your better with the fellas

They’re thespic Uri Gellers

Modern theatre bullshit sellers.

WEEK 21

Unsuitable

J re: the beasty vids,

Don’t show ‘em to the kids.

Their minds arrange to something strange

And it makes them flip their lids.

WEEK 22

Sex and shopping

The she devil says to the sheepish shedder: “How long is your mane?”

Hissing wise he then replies: “The length that you’re insane.

Don’t be absurd you nutty bird I’m not too bad a fella.”

But as regards the best net film he’s not allowed to sell her.

WEEK 23

Fancy a shandy love?

She pours him a shandy

He thinks it is dandy

She prefers sticky candy

And feeling really randy.

WEEK 24

An Enchantment

As luck does have it sweet Titania grants admission to the secret fairy dell,

Spells of winged forest nymphs are magic stronger than a mortal such as I can tell,

And, maybe those best kept, like home of hidden thicket flowers, would be well.

For which dark fortune would bestow a man who woodland sorcery he did sell?

Consider Plucking single bloom by Bottom stem, yet-not be seen,

Then I one charm would carry back in covered pocket missed not by her pleasant dell so green.

WEEK 25

Video evidence

Her acts and advances were sure,

When questioned on sex by the law,

She said “watch the tapes” as she gulped down some grapes,

“Let’s get naked and then watch some more ...”

Although poor and slightly more tactless,

It seemed that she was a born actress.

The officers there couldn’t help themselves stare,

At the films they were shocked to the core.

WEEK 26

Gone Chordless Jack?

So John thought he’d play the guitar,

To pick up some tips in the bar

With a radio mic he was top of the pack

It was top of the range from afar.

So he strung up one spare he did lack,

And with six laid his licks through his stack,

John’s gain was all lost not to mention the cost

As the crowd jeered him: “Gone chordless Jack?”

With no sack of leads he was bagless,

And nothin’ to smoke he was fagless,

Jo’ he made his way home on his damn feckin’ own

And he tried to get over the evening.

WEEK 27

ILL TOWN DIGS – GOD’S TIN WILL - I’LL OWN IT DGS

HAND OF GOD AND PAWS OF DOG

DO GO TO SWAP A WASP AND HOG

FOR A TOAD PASS LILI THE FROG

TO DO WHAT WAS BEST OF A BOG

WEEK 28

Fakin’ it

If her name became Mrs. A. Snake...

Unless John I’ve made a mistake...

Her last name would slither

her middle would dither

and her ID would be A. Miss Fake.

WEEK 29

Not sure who lol

Dan had been divin’ his head were scratched up,

From the bitches long nails when for the gig he turned up.

Jim were pissed off as he wiggled his toes as the banjo did pick and the moment were Jo’s.

Scribbling his name out upon the pre-nup., “Scratch with yer nails love -the imprints still there..!

And ain’t he a twat that he’s shaved off his hair?”

WEEK 30

Don’t mention B.P.(butt-plug)

I used it last night; the sensation sensational,

Inflate and buzz, I vary my need, the feeling’s inspirational.

So if you feel an upsurge coming from the deep,

Secure the cap, don’t spill in yer lap and think of shagging a sheep.

WEEK 31

I’ts all I need

It’s a John Lennon moment, it’s a note from the past,

I’ts the last fuckin’ toke, it’s the queen of the cast,

It’s a mad road rage doughnut, a damn smoke at last,

It’s the hurt from the joke, it’s them closing in fast,

So get a good feeling and spin up a score,

Plenty dudes dealin’ dance for love and get more.

WEEK 32

A non-glossy hue

I’ve a non-glossy hue, have you?

I get into a bit, don’t you?

Do you want even more on the floor outside the door, phwoar...

WEEK 33

Roll-up, roll-up

A single paper layed in front

The Benson Golds they cost the cash

Cream the Soap a lighter stunt

Load the wrap with fostered hash

Needing not a needle point

Toking slow reducing stash

Who would rather have a punt,

Not a hose pipe but a gash?

Give your plug a harder shunt

All this gender balderdash

Ladies talk all eloquent

Boy or girl eats pie and mash

Hope the surgeons’ knife ain’t blunt

Veet preferred, shaves cause a rash

He’s a boy but he’s a runt

She’s a girl she’s into fash’

Guyliner pencil –slip and grunt,

Put Manscara, on the lash...

WEEK 34

A little voice

She said “You’ve got a little voice”

I said “ I dunney know it..”

I said “I’ve got this love of you”

She said “You dunney show it.”

I said “ regards the show my love

I think it’s rare obscene

And as for sizing voices

I hear sections of the scene.”

She said “Well buggar me it seems the dog has got a bone!

But what would gain my interest is a psychic wireless phone!”

“then listen up” I answered and I thought her my reply:

‘if you hear me thinking now then can you tell me why?’

WEEK 35

Breaking things up

Is me lover breakin’ things up?

Me ornaments broken.

Too rude to ask, It’s better left unspoken,

The fridge doors acting ugly,

does me lover really love me?

“I cannot commit” is what said he,

Offer a key, has he got one already?

Crack-in bust! –eat shite if I must

What the heck i aint fussed

Blame it on lust.

WEEK 36

Refreshing summer shower

Summer shower sex, -a refreshing change.

Nice and clean, -let’s re-arrange…

Set the temp. then- will she cope?

Turn the tap and pass the soap,

Chance to have a proper grope!

Make the choice to give up dope.

Wear a skirt and walk the lane,

Make your way back home again,

Before the stubble starts to grow,

May be trouble still must go.

Go to theatre –must be brave,

Get mistaken for Nick Cave.

Told you’re welcome but you’re not

And you feel a freaky clot

Twisted knickers, prickly legs,

Let’s see if she cums and begs,

Funny that she’s lost the plot

Thinking he might tie the knot.

New transition –not too late,

Don’t hold back the tide of fate.

Finally get a normal date,

Finish what was piled on plate,

Feeling in a sorry state

What’s the mess I feel irate.

Guess that I’ll get used to it

No –I am not into shit.

Now I know that it was right

So I’ll decide to take a bite

And at last I’m feeling great,

Making up and watching weight.

What a set of apples and pears

No more sniggers or dodgy stares.

That’s not all I can fit in

Jesus died to rid man’s sin.

WEEK 37

The He-ling

The He-ling looked upon its’ form,

A quiet moment fixed within a stare,

(Some bodies never being quite the norm),

When gender traits in dreams aren’t really there.

If the sense is wrong how then could order so be made in flesh?

Is it true the mind does not want to know itself should conflict so be found within its’ body?

Let conscience be a bubble pricked, and wounds now tenderly be licked.

So enter the world and sell your sack of magic beans for a cow,

Begin again at the beginning and make a new start with he-ling.

WEEK 38

Mrs Bed

He loves his bed

But does he miss his cot?

She loves his bed

She uses it for her adult- hairy

He loves her bed

Mating the beastly enemy

She loves her bed

She dreams her best reality

WEEK 39

Born to beast willed

Tattered and torn are we the new born

Battered with scorn to be judged from afar

Bred to be heartbroken –her new wave porn

Creating a victim and a very sad star

WEEK 40

ABCD

A is for Animal

B is for Beast

C is for Carnivore

Death Eats the Feast

WEEK 41

Cold sore little knuckles

Help me break the ice that formed across my pond of life,

I would you- I hope, were you in trouble or in strife.

For what in deeds makes up a husband or a wife?

A pre-nup or an untold tale could blunt the doctors’ knife.

Standing confused with belt unbuckled, I’d abstain love –AIDS is rife

WEEK 42

Old thread

Wash off threads of times then tackled,

Pick up bargains in the sale

44 and still unsuckled

Bit more healthy –not so pale.

Perched in shock with feathers ruffled

For stuff like that they won’t get bail

At someone else’s loss I chuckled

Ugly face through tatty veil.

Giggly girl will chuck her freak

Dare to take another peak

Gaze in mirror feeling puzzled

Never cared for never fucked

As for that it should be muzzled

Barking mad a horse befuddled

Felt so lonely felt so meek

From obscurity be plucked

Find your soul become that star

Be admired from afar.

WEEK 43

The secret cure

If water is a healing force you ought to mix it well,

With petals of the purple flowers grown in fairy dell,

For only this if taken right can break the wicked spell,

Beware the bloom that looks alike –the difference hard to tell;

-every sip that brings a cheer retrieves the soul you sell.

The cheers are from the drinkers, the tears are from the souls,

The fears you feel from liquid cure- the dead, in empty bowls.

Better use the blinkers, best to use the foals,

The rest you feel- my empty hearth with embers last from coals.

Take then from me in fair return my ill begotten gains,

Then come awake inside the place that shelters my remains.

WEEK 44

Maid Good

Instruction from employer that were not to be undone,

To make the room in quickest time then dishes should be done.

But to rest instead of washing up was surely much more fun,

Temptation of the dirty room- her duties she would shun.

Unpaid- the maid, (who’d made the bed), a price considered fair,

Set on the chair her dress, her hat, so too her underwear,

Still on her person she possessed a pair considered rare,

And wondered if a lover was allowed to join her there.

The time she spent inside the room was long enough to rest,

She fluffed the pillow, laid her head, and gave the bed a test,

But only for a short time there would she become the guest

As up she’d get to make again the bed to look its’ best.

The other maids who’d finished fast, the dishes they’d done all

And wondering where the hell she was, they paid maid Good a call.

When she didn’t answer them they opened up the door,

To find her reading on the bed books on employment law.

Her fella was a lovely bloke he wouldn’t hurt a fly,

But on the other chamber maids he felt the need to spy,

Resluting in the situation where maid Good got jealous

And so to get her own back she would entertain the fellas.

Although their place of work it seemed was not the ideal venue,

Then hotel room would have to do and sex was on the menu.

What added to excitement was the thought she might get caught,

But maid Good had a lawyer who could prove the room was bought.

What if maid Goods’ bloke walked in, “perish the flaming thought!

So to the other guys and maids a schedule she taught,

In case it ever happened where the scam he might discover,

They all agreed a story so their actions they could cover.

One fateful day the worst occurred, on orgy he walked in,

While checking safety with the boss (who thought sex was a sin).

Of scheming plan maid Good had laid she had now lost control,

When quizzed by boss what for pay she does? She answered: “My payroll”.

WEEK 45

Vase and chest

Fashion me a vase

A roses stem to take

A tidy little opening

An experts’ skill’s to make.

Fashion me a chest

Containing items fine

I will perform my best

If garments fit my line

Feel my skin so soft and smooth

Rid me of its’ hair

Give my nose a better shape

And buy me underwear

WEEK 46

Ma scot

Your mascot, he’s got the lot, the girl, the doe, the theatre.

Not for me to make a play and not for me to meet her.

As they said, the best man’s won so I may never greet her,

Left here with my (D)aimless feet, (I hope he doesn’t beat her).

Feeling useless, feeling blue, this silent stage I ponder,

Now she’s not my destination nowhere will I wander.

I’ve not got an a pied and I can’t force a smile,

Without her I can’t take a step so stay put all the while.

It doesn’t matter what you’ve got if you don’t get your girl,

So travel far with you mascot, I’ll dive for a different pearl.

WEEK 47

BR’OCK

IAN & CO.

ABLE and Keen,

For me -to abuse, to for her set a scene.

Cook up Caines’ offering, a hole in the pi’,

The potato did leave it, the chef he did lie.

The sun made it grow in the rain of our Lord,

A princess of lightness could barely afford,

To feed her two sons, so the trinity stars

Made a space dish for breakfast, as they couldn’t eat hours.

As for the Badgerman, do learn his name,

It may be spelled different but still reads the same.

Kicking the dust- “Have you got any snout?”

Keep your children locked up there’s some bastards about.

Bad stars are rare if ever at all

The root will set hold, and the tree will grow tall.

Father forgive me!?, I’m getting too cold…

Mother’s not fed and I need to grow old,

Will I forgive thee? – he already did,

Never acknowledged- alone as a kid.

Glady’s not here John, he’s gone for the coal,

That’s it for this one, but I’ve not yet wrote all.

WEEK 48

‘Itch on my back

I’ve got this itch on my back,

I didn’t get it in the sack.

Stick yer thumb out for her

If the Jag you still lack,

And have a fag for a snack,

She’s gone off with half the pack.

Does she know how I got my stitch?

And the others?? You scratch!

WEEK 49

Dis is Absoid

Dis is absoid, it’s RiLickerDickerKnickerless,

It’s cream crazy crackers, Nutz!,

El Bonko, up the luny lane,

Call the purple helicopter it’s yellow van time,

Was that a yes yet??

WEEK 50

Pork meat and Porter

Pork meat and Porter, Sausage and beer,

Before 9am it’s perfectly queer,

Have some oats with your Guinness, there’s nothing to fear…

WEEK 51

An Ancient place

Staying here I am;

Standing here I keep my stance,

Straying not from herewith,

In an ancient place.

Stones and hill are set here still

And I with them will be always,

Bracing rain and icy earth

In an ancient place.

A valley forged some time before,

From this cold stream that flows again I drink from hand,

Feeling older

In an ancient place.

WEEK 52

Summers’ heat

I sat in bloom through summers heat,

the sun shone strong with power,

With little shade I in my place,

began to wilt and cower.

So then a Bee did visit me

As if I were a flower,

To taste what nectar I might be

That he may then devour.

I broke from wilting with a start

And scent then I did bring,

Awoke from dreaming Summer’s dream

In case I got a sting.

But after then the sunny moment

Did to me return,

The Bee had flown to seek some Shade

And summer’s heat did burn.