My Poems
I put my poems on myspace and the media have stolen the imagery from poems and my artwork. Have a look round and see if you see the imagery anywhere.
Tuesday, 1 July 2008

Poems by me
Shunter.
The Poem I nearly forgot.

Early in the morning, as the sun warmed up small creatures eyes,
The iron wheels clanked across concrete sleepers,
Down ground clean lines.
The sound crossed the grasslands,
The yellow straw tubes,
And settled into my sleeping mind,
As the bird of pray swooped.
It cajoled me with fear,
And excitement that accompanied it too,
As the train gave a passing whine,
The bird passed far from my view,
When night fell the slothful red oxide beast would
Return by someone else’s designs,
Onto the sloth we’d jump and from the
Engine man’s prying eyes we would hide.
The adventure grew, as we all knew,
Because the hissing leaver,
Had to give, to make
Crashing brake blokes collide,
Two by two.






The guards would give chase,
And our hearts would race,
Hastened by all our adolescent
Minds could find,
In this place.
With heaving sighs,
All the carriages would halt in oily lines,
As we and the birds of pray knew,
Bent kneed watching on all fours,
Out of view.
The police would on our track trace,
And those who could not race,
Where court, put in the vans,
And taken to some other place.









Sol

Lazy yellow rays, they cut me down,
And laid my back upon the grassy ground,
Transpired the water from the baking mound,
And in the air, birds are the only sound.
I’ll dip my toes into this tranquil scene,
Scoops of fluffy clouds look like vanilla
Ice-cream,
Yellow eyelids under this daytime dream,
Feel so intoxicated in this summer’s stream.
Birds eat flies upon the wing,
Dogs go mad, pant and visibly steam,
I’m just here in my pleasurable rest,
Winter’s rubbish, summer’s the best.


The machine and the rainbow stain on the still waters surface.

It was a place neither here nor there,
About which nobody really cared,
Bindweed tangled the concrete posts,
And grey steel lines interwove,
Paint flakes snowed onto the ground,
And grinding cogs gave off a mighty sound.
Which raced across the cold morning's air,
Into my sleeping perception where I was in despair.
It relayed to me something's erratic haste,
Burning carbons and poisoning it produced waste,
It seeped into the earthy ground,
And frozen black slag heaps rose all around,
The shadows grew which made the birds fly away,
The grass turned into yellow hollow hay,
Then a hot spark engulfed it,
With fierce flames that burned it agitatedly,
Gladly green grass grew anew,
It was chased away,
Cleaning up its scrap into its own rusting hands,
It trudged off smoking into some other land,
The only trace it left behind,
In the water like a stain,
Is the rainbow like oil slick?
Stirred always by the rain.



Circle

A specific type of odour,
A grey tacky, cheep ogre,
Frozen there in time,
Blotting out the sky,
And if the face was a date,
It would say nineteen eighty three,
Mortar dust is the odour that always reminded me,
Of that place, that I loved to see.
Black tyres scraped across the wet tar road,
Running away into the night before it became too old,
Never looking back to what they had, or where they belonged,
It was such a terrible sight that we had to sever the bond.
Run away and find a similar place,
Dark and bleak, is it to your taste,
Don’t live to long, don’t fall in love with haste,
Always become confused, and always time waste.









The golden tower.

The suns rays like maple syrup,
Poured through the leaves,
Oozing through the solid trees,
They hit a tower cold and grey,
Which made it look like a nuclear spark,
From the furnace far away,
And for a minute I looked in awe,
As it warmed my centre, warmed my core,
But the steel never knew that warmth like me,
It's only for the living eyes to perceive,
And the machine humbly churned the dismay,
And the poisons on the wind are blown away,
And there is a road built for no one,
Made from water that you could walk on,
In the winter when it froze,
And I've seen it in ways which
Now one else knows,
It smells like oil and looks like death,
To swim in it would take away your breath,
The tower over looks it every hour,
And in the summer it's met in the morning by opening
Clover flowers,
The water reflects its image from miles away,
But now it has gone and only in my mind will its image
Stay.


THE HILL AND OVER

Dirt and grass piled high,
A steel grey fence against the pail lifeless sky,
And the mound on the high ground hid excavations on the other side,
The fence hid the eye’s line of sight, long and wide,
And me being a curious kid,
From the mechanical sights I hid,
As I climbed for my mind’s eye to feast,
On what ever lay within,
And the encirclement hid, a car park from this nosy kid,
No adventures to be found,
Anywhere around.



On the Bus

I saw a bug eyed freak
As the bus past him by
He starred at me so strongly
That I thought his eyes would pop
Out and vanish into the sky!
Glued there to the pavement
As the world past him by
Unflinching, unstoppable,
And a psycho at four foot high.
Very uncanny, it was seven in
The AM you see
To be met by his glance
Came as a surprise to me
What did he have in store?
A macabre present maybe
And the bus moved on
To ease my uncertainty!
I turned only to see we
Had met face to face
Only thing in-between us
Was quite a bit of space?
His neck must have become stiff
Whilst practising his hobby so bizarre
He stepped into the road and
Was run over by a red car!

The endless deep

Oily, blue-green never ceasing mass,
The moon its shepherd caresses the waves,
As it moves on its path,
The shore shivers under its ever-clenching teeth,
Tears diluted, no chance for its journey to cease,
Swallowing islands, eating away the past,
Cruel womb, icy bloom or an airless tomb.
The sun shines brightly, surface shimmers like gold,
Blue beauty unending that chases away the cold,
Lines stretched tightly on a smiling sea dogs face,
As the sky meet the marine shore in a horizontal embrace.



Home!

Torturing wind that bights,
And rain that never ends,
In the summer you can hear,
The motorways noisy curse as your mind,
Begins to bend,
Smell of sulphur and lead pain,
On the wind scent the metallic stain,
Written coldly is the horizon,
From which my young mind could not
Refrain,
Out of the trash and filth I’d trudge,
The animals are loose,
But the keepers are not to blame,
And if I’m not going the way the others went,
Then I must have gone insane,
To steal, to waste and on others lay the blame,
Put me into a pigeonhole and label me the same,
Cursed for my hand, my bloody stump,
I’m a lumpen grunt,
From a brick piled dump.


Untitled


1. Your brain is a calculator,
2. Ruled by itself,
3. don’t be a fool and
Try to calculate yourself.
4. the world is all around,
Under, up and down,
5. Don’t contemplate this

Distraction or you’ll just
Spin round and around.
6. the moral of this story,

Is as simple as one, two, three
Always rule the sums that
Equal you and me!