UKC

It is time to reverse their
Psychological warfare
Violence won't solve things
Things cause violence

Free your mind from tyranny
Give yourself to hope & belief
Help your brother
And he'll help you back

In reply to AnneDupont:

Maybe we don't all believe
All notions that we might receive;
Received ideas and nice beliefs
Bewail but seldom vanquish griefs -
Peace and love and love and peace,
For two millennia at least
In theory though they tame the inner
Beast that wants you for its dinner
Fine in principle - these only
Give you but a very phoney
Sense that rescue might appear
To blow away the angst and fear
Engendered by this thing called life,
But only ever mask the strife;
The chill wind still will stroke our backs
And no protection plugs all cracks.

In reply to AnneDupont:

Beech woods

A gentle breeze, no stranger
To England’s shore. Autumn
Petals play on a woodland floor.

Beech near southern wold
A gem with golden snow.
Grey thighs of canopy
Giants, hold up
The leafy sky.

Hazel, scattered,
Taxa Ilex and yew.
A story under canopy
Clouds with beech nut rain,
Sow and hogs take feast,
Winter but a throw.

Rights of bots,
Hedge and wood,
Tools and winter cuts.
Fencing, twisted willow,
Birch brooms bundled,
When woods forgotten.
Make prayer to
Crafts of old

The Queen

I help her up, upon her pony
I feel love only
She let her boys, go to war
Like my Ma, and her Ma before

Terrorise the demagogues'
Show those cool guys' just who's boss
ThankYou for guiding me
Into the age of equality

Tony Blair

pourquoi ne peuvent- snipers fumer du pot ?

It's coming, across this land
Death to all who dance this dance
Fire, Brimstone in their hands
Chaotic turbulance

I'll kill ya, with arms or famine
Armies, will rape your Women
Send out, my deadly weapon
Brutalised sapients

Now that, I hold this weapon
Produced by mind oppression
Consumed, with an obsession
Reduced, to blind aggression

I can direct this frantic
Force of, organic manics
To my end they will vanquish
The most foolish creature on the planet

Oppress oppress remove the threat
Oppress oppress remove the threat
Oppress oppress remove the threat
Oppress oppress remove the threat

I wish I was an Irishman
I wish I was an Irishman
I wish I was an Irishman
I wish I was an Irishman

I wish I was an Irishman
I wish I was an Irishman
I wish I was a Catalan
I wish I was Republican

Oppress oppress remove the threat
Oppress oppress remove the threat
Oppress oppress remove the threat
Oppress oppress remove the threat

My thought's twist from red to purple
As I flow, round this circle
Floating on the edge of time and space - in a tripped out place

I've lost the will to stay alive but I must struggle to survive
this illusion
hopeless goddamn mass delusion



(Thread dedicated to Alison & Johnj & Sir Goatlips)

With thanks too

Sir Dzl
Azealia Banks
PJ Harvey
Public Enemy
Bjork
Grandma & Nana
Mam & Soph & Betty
Timmd

In reply to AnneDupont:

Seroquel

Pills and pills
Rows two by two
Plastic backed
Foil wrapped
Xl and prolonged release
Day by day
Month by month
Swallowed night after night
Reactions to mind
And Florida pink
An Incompatibility
Of enzymes and my
Favourite fruit.

In reply to AnneDupont:

With erudite pretention
Your prose demand attention
When in reality
Their banality
don't deserve a mention

In reply to AnneDupont:

As mentioned in poetic dispatches
While others relive memories of hot hatches
Some will strip back to bare shell
And become all consumed in restohell
How many have ever made an inner wing
Or ported heads to make them sing
Nothing like the guillotine of old
Or American ninja V so very bold

But what is new some say my rhymes make no sense
Like my 9/11 musings I'm just vey dense
Not to be able to see
That buildings collaspe when they are TV
Free To rock the world that keeps on
And a poets phrase becomes a song

Just like Mr Young I would love to have a band that is a success
Of that I must confess
Not global fame or nowtlike that
Just solid blues with gain to match
So how can all our plans hatch
I dunno

In reply to AnneDupont:
For Shaun

Frequency fences

Well as the story broke and we tuned into the rerun shows
To watch the shock and awe of the plane strikes and to see the towers as they turned to dust
now If there's one lasting memory I have of that day and what I'd recall my friends would say
It just didn't look real more like a sci fi movie from outta space
But then the powers that were produced some evidence
Like a passport they said held relivance
Whilst they unveiled thier radical mastermind fella
Saddle up lets frag the cave dweller
And get some motivation and justification to march one step closer to WW3
With a wizards conjure of false flag terror to strike fear into the heart of thee

Coz you can't stop the tide with your frequency fences (x 4)

F U C K !

In reply to John Simpson:

Thirteen
Is
A
Number
It
Is
Not
A
Rebel
Song
What
Happened
To
Bono
He
May
As
Well
Be
A
Bong

In reply to AnneDupont:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I would write some more
But I'm off for a poo

In reply to AnneDupont:

The Conservator Dreams

Stained-glass: a spider's web of cames and colour
brittle mosaics of the holy family;

suspended on my silks, I scuttled, penduled,
a hanged man dancing in a throat of song,

scraping the cancered frass from rotten mullions,
the clerestory, triforium and choir

light, dark and mystery surrounding me,
spinning slowly within my swirling sheets,

my dream-chaff clipped about my sleepless head,
as tears split the light - a thousand leaves

of bright grisaille rush past, their colour stripped,
kaleidoscopic, monochrome, exhaling

a turbulence of postage stamps awhirl
in frantic quest for tattered, unsent letters:

the dummy rings the chisel's striking tooth,
cutting back to stone that chimes the shank.

In reply to AnneDupont:
Rwy'n byw yn y ddinas, mewn llawennydd llwm
hapusrwydd di deimlad yng 'hanol y bwrlwm

Chymydogrwydd a gollwyd, ac yn ei le fe gawn drais
r'un gorffwysfan yn dawel, fe gollwyd fy llais

Hunaf am fynydd a llechen mor las
dim cerbyd na lonydd, dim ond llonydd o'm cwmpas

Mae y trywydd yn dywyll a'i furiau yn lwyd
mae arian a chwant yn ein dennu ir rhwyd

Duw am gwareda rhac fywyd fel hyn
cyrcha' fi adre at y Dyffryn a'r llyn

In reply to Chris Harris:





Let's hope that your trip to the loo did the trick
And your poo came out clean and plopped in like a brick
Let's hope that your bumhole escaped Neptune's kiss
And when e-vacuated you felt that warm sense of bliss
That only can come from this most basic of acts
And leave you feeling lighter as you pull up your kacks.

In reply to Yanis Nayu:

Twas a damn good log
That went in the bog
It didn't smell fine
Was all of that mine?
When will it end?
Will it go round the bend?
But it did make me blush
When it took a third flush
But now we have hush
Cos nobody can breathe

The end needs a bit of tidying up.

And so does the poem.

In reply to Chris Harris:

High five!

In reply to AnneDupont:
Here I sit in clouds of vapour
some foul rat has pinched the paper
but alas I cannot linger
guess I'll have to use my finger.

In reply to mgco3:

You don't need to sink that low
Have a think and take it slow
We won't judge and we won't mock
If you use one of your socks...

In reply to AnneDupont:

Etiquette dictates that you refrain
irrespective of the pain
expelling flatus from ones anus
such a thing would be quite heinous
one must squeeze ones buttocks tight
right until the moments right
then when no one is about
you can let the pressure out
don't let temptation rule your action
to enhance your satisfaction
forced expulsion you may rue
leading you to follow through
there is no way to rub it off
once you've started touching cloth

In reply to Yanis Nayu:

I took your advice
but here's the drawback
my athletes foot
is now athletes crack!

In reply to mgco3:





Genuine laugh out loud that one)

In reply to Yanis Nayu:

Don't be shy have a pie
Don't be nasty ave a pasty
Don't be coy have a savaloy
Don't get busted have some custard
Don't be silly have some chilli
Don't be a git have a chip
Don't be rude eat some food
Don't go to sleep have a leek
Don't start Larkin have some Parkin
Don't be full of hate have a steak
Don't start rumours have some tuna

In reply to John Simpson:


On the subject of Bono -
Here's something odd:-
What is the difference
'Tween Bono and God?
Does God think he's Bono?
On that, I'd say 'no' -
This riddle's now answered,
So there we go.