Staring uncaring cold and old
Your eyes know how to look at me
I don’t know how I could ever see
Those eyes
Turning burning dead and red
I never realised what you saw
Cos you could see so much more
You’d see through a person like a ghost
How could your head be the host
To those eyes
Staring uncaring red and dead
How many lives have your eyes seen die
Does anyone ever question the lie
Of those eyes
Turning burning old and cold
How your eyes will bleed
A hot poke is all I need
Then you’ll never see
The difference between you and me
Tag: poem
A Flame In Your Hand – 29th August 1984
Possession of power will turn a good man to greed
He’ll take everything that the people need
They’ll teach him how to make a stone bleed
And they’ll teach you that you’ll never be freed
You’ve got a flame in your hand
To burn our plans – you’ve got a flame in your hand
When you start to destroy the poor
You’ll show everyone what for
And if anyone asks for more
You can quietly shut the door
You’ve got a flame in your hand
To destroy our land – you’ve got a flame in your hand
You’ll turn the country to war
And armed revolution like never before
And you will burn on the floor
As the flame always makes sure
Cul-De-Sac – 25th August 1984
Round and round the cul-de-sac
Don’t look forward, don’t look back
The train’s off the track
And the hay’s in the stack
And there’s nothing to lack
Hear the nut crack
On the Union Jack
Wearing a plastic mac
That’s got the knack
It’s the king of the pack
Pinned on by a tack
Tied to a rack
Where the rope is slack
Given a good whack
And I’m back
In the cul-de-sac
Whispers – 23rd August 1984
A whisper behind backs
As the whip cracks
On backs
A whisper so secret now
Will die somewhere somehow
Heinz – 22nd August 1984
If variety is the spice of life
I think I’d rather be dead
Cos the variety of spices in my life
Has gone somewhere else instead
The New Job – 21st August 1984
First day at work after being on the dole
You can’t understand why you’re living in a hole
Where wet walls slip
And fall into the dip
And you climb and climb
Til there’s no more time
A new job
An old job
The same job
Frailty – 20th August 1984
Our life is so frail
It smells so stale
We reach for the gun
And take away the fun
Kill animals
Kill people
Frail or stale?
I’ve hit it on the nail
Close Your Eyes – 18th August 1984
Close your eyes and count to three
One, two, three
There, now don’t you feel better
I’ll send the bill with my next letter
There’s the door, pat the secretary’s arse, bye!
Gardens – 17th August 1984
A little flower grows like only a flower grows
It grows in the garden next to the weeds
And they’ll make sure it never succeeds
At its function
Beetroots – 16th August 1984
The blood is boiling in the pan
Til it catches fire
I denounce you a beetroot
And a liar
Your blood stains our carpet of steel
Tell me little beetroot
Is what you feel real?
1994ever 