Tag: poetry
Indigestion – 8th January 1987
You ate too quick
You’re feeling sick
Your stomach is squelching
You can’t stop belching
There is no question
You’ve got indigestion
Toilet Tears – 7th January 1987
We’ll meet again
Don’t care where, don’t care when
I don’t really want to see your face
We were the wrong people in the wrong place
I don’t really think you’re my type
We were just two shits meeting in the pipe
Shrouds – 6th January 1987
The Turin Shroud veils the cloud
Hanging over the pious crowd
Hanging heads in mocking shame
Clasping hands in ambitious aims for gain
Mysterious voices of miraculous choices
Turin Shrouds for fevered brows
Soluble cures for extremist aches
Another dead god sits and bakes
Rising from the stenching dread
Politely hoping they’re not dead
In search of eternal bliss
The gods spit out their perilous piss
In search of an eternal light
To guard against the death of the night
Shrouds encapsulate
Propaganda perpetrate
Religious bills for bilious religious contingents
The Turin Shroud hangs glibly on the continent
Mr Illusion – 4th January 1987
Mr Magic
Clickety click
Another trick
Mister Illusion
In the confusion
I missed the illusion
Wings – 3rd January 1987
Trapped at the junction of life
No escape route
You must stay
It’s at times like this
You wish you had wings
And could just fly away
The Choice – 2nd January 1987
The choice of sitting in my room
The choice of being alone
The choice of inner peace
The choice of no one but my own
The choice of noise
The choice of silence
The choice of death
Is not my choice of violence
This is my choice
It suits me fine
Don’t put me down
Don’t waste my time
Just cos you’re stuck in your indecision
Motorious Notorist – 1st January 1987
In your car, you think you’re flash
I wait for the day you’ll have a crash
In your car, you go so fast
You won’t let anyone past
Through the country at high speeds
You don’t listen to pedestrian pleas
Notorious motorist go crash and burn
It’s time to die, now it’s your turn
Real Worlds – 31st December 1986
The real world is happier than fiction
The real world is sadder than fiction
The real world is stranger than fiction
The real world is crazier than fiction
The real world is about what you took
I think I’ll sit down and read a book
Thirty-Five Weeks – 30th December 1986
Thirty-five weeks it’s been going on
It doesn’t seem like that long
I hope nothing goes wrong
I hope it goes on and on