mad

hot day

all the windows open

the whole evening wasted

in wait of a poem didn't show

and the dog trod soil on the carpet

in from the green

house

see a cool cat or a model reposed in the shape of these words?

                                    ( mad as cheese by Philip Johnson )

I think government really do have to rethink the purpose of the welfare state as it seems so wrong to me that some can get while others can’t.  no wonder nationalism is on the rise?

Hospitals struggling to budget make charges for car parking which hurt especially those on limited incomes and pension while societies assholes waste resources hand over fist result of drink, drugs and thuggery.  Why do the innocent have to subsidize the feckless every single time?  CHARGE THE WASTREL

Next, we are told we must work together to get out of hard times – and yet government turns a blind eye on mass dismissal while MPs can get away with claiming expenses on duck ponds and houses and phantom mortgages even pornography (where joe public would be jailed for benefit fraud) and they feel it perfectly okay to carry on in post up to the next election?  Its a bloody disgrace and they should be ashamed of themselves!  GIVE THOSE REDUNDANT DUE RESPECT AND EMPLOY THEM IN COMMUNITY IMPROVEMENT PROJECTS RATHER THAN LEAVE THEM AND THE COUNTRY TO ROT

Don’t get anal – lighten up.  Adopt the philosophy of FISH:  http://www.charthouse.com/content.aspx?nodeid=1066

National Write a Poem about the News Day!
Wednesday 24th June


The news can be poetry
and poetry can be news.
Feel like you can't do anything about what's going on in the news?
Writing a poem about it could be empowering and enlightening.
Feel like poetry's not relevant to the world today?
Use the vast amount of material in the news to inspire your words.


Let's get it happening in classrooms, bedrooms, newsrooms...
Add your poem to the snapshot of the day being created at
poetryasithappens.wordpress.com
or email kate.fox@virgin.net
Tweet to twitter.com/katefoxwriter


(Part of a special commission by the Humber Mouth Literary Festival
to Kate Fox; www.humbermouth.org.uk) 

http://47thmoon.spaces.live.com/

My partner and I have seen some lovely cottages out in the countryside.  Yet, despite the fact that we are both  working and Gordon Brown promised that “work should always pay” we are unable to afford so much as a gate post there.  So, before we cast our votes accordingly, could the Parliamentary Fees Department make appropriate arrangements, please?

**Morning News Item:**

 

    HM Forces back release of a new soldier doll:

    you buy it
    it has a chord
    when you pull on it
    it curses the elements
    allusion of a career for life
    the doll is white and male

    HM Forces promise coloured
    and female versions later

 

**Mid Day Talk Show:**

    this afternoon some fool demanded the UK bring back
    National Service - "stop em turning into yobs
    make men of em"

 

** Make Men Of The Women (ack,ack, ack)? **

    Got me thinking of the real world and the number of homeless
    and how so many of them are ex forces:

    "feckin bustards
    give em a gun and attitude
    and a pair a khacki stinkin pants
    then have em discharged

    where city boys on coke an big bonus payment
    leavin the night clubs piss on rough sleepers

    where council cleansing department turns out at dawn
    to swill out shop doorways before business begins:

 

    The HM Forces Doll Sale
    Starts Today

Quote

The Chocolate Oracle Says You're Creative

You are unique, creative, and fascinating.
You don't do what's expected of you.
You go for what's unknown and uncharted.

You are full of life and vigor.
You have an amazing amount energy, and you keep very active.
Some people feel like you can't focus on them. You do tend to be restless

You love working, making deals, and succeeding. You like to be a part of the action.
You feel lost when you're bored. There's little more fulfilling that your career.

The Chocolate Oracle

More Blogthings

well away from home and neighbours
I purchased a book I found while browsing
through one of many charity shops

buried it deep in a supermarket carrier bag
then tucked it under my arm so no-one could guess.

even then each move I make is followed (cctv)
and the electronic whisperers are probably

spreading the news

Johnson's reading poetry

Johnson's scribbled on the fly
the secret is out

JOHNSON'S A POET!

A & E  

Saturday night.

Men's Room.

The hostility of an angry fist smeared blood

lines on a canvas of clear skin

The bridge of the nose is lost

Its appalling darkness

abhors

A second later I find myself apparently falling face first

into a fragment of glass on puce colored floor

lying just beneath the sink

Gentleman Jim.

drawn to applause from a blackbird's wings
I watched the thing leap from its perch
and fly

first fist of soil dropped

until it turned into a pinpoint
and then dissolved

like fading embers of a spark.

my eyes see a soul on its journey
outward

never looking back

.

Capitalist gal

with make up offer

from Chinese

too good for refuse

Wants

new boy with red in his pencil

thank you kindry,

sir.

kiss kiss

These few letters

and as many numbers

as letters

and letters and numerals together

in endless code

and combination

are enough to purchase entrance

to Fort Knox

laid in the right order.

So, why can't I find a poem

cheap as chips?                                                                             

arrived today and as I listened to Helen Dunmore read "Wild Strawberries" my imagination was ignited and I struck this:

.

Me And My Lady Sport (haw haw)!

Saturday, April 07 at Aintree.

The last of my spends laid on the omen of the lass’s knickers
hung on a "Silver Birch."

the two of us wandered away from the tic tack man and crowd

for a smooch and a tipple under shelter of a hedge we found
next to a ditch.

A little after four o’clock

the rumble of approaching thunder                                                                    disturbed us

Our sunshine was eclipsed by a flight of horses

The splash of some unseated jockey tumbled
into the water.

How startled he looked as he hauled himself out

The bottle we put to cool in there
corked his ass.

.

I'll work with anyone me

and they know it

so they put me with her

weekends

on the night shift

her non stop jabber

in my ears

I could scream

well

everyone else

has issues

with her

mind

once she bends

to pick up and tidy stuff

mine are lost

they demolished it

destroyed by fire

unsafe

enough already believed to have perished

discovered and drawn

from the rubble with teeth intact

a jaw bone

half in suspension of disbelief

*

*

**http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/cornwall/6957136.stm

he offers me drugs

all sorts

buttaspeshally

drugs to make my willy swell

             

               Ripper U Spanniel

what does he think I do?

                       (Watt A Beast)

this is a poem of place

indeed

once the shops have closed
this is no place

where the hoodies hang out until late

no place
with nothing
to do

where without interest

we elect our dead to endless council
slowly to weave us bones and all into a cobweb quilt work
of sub committee anti chambers

come

take up a place here
and quietly crumble

to dust

. 

shreds

torn apart

like a banana burst

fragments of it splayed

out from my hand

my ears swell to the magic mega cock monkey crow

as I scan again

their wonder pill pact

--------------------------------------------

e-card from a friend

her boyfriend's dick is too large

more pleasure for me

the slippers you bought lie together

under uncle's comfy chair

half covered by the gift wrap

so much more amused by the cardboard roll

from which the wrap was unwound

uncle puts it to his lips

and blows raspberries to greet anyone

entering his space

a cheesy grin (((the real gift))) is flashed

.