Broken phone II

Prose and photos
Of the puppy and
non-prose too,
All gone, my fault,
Broke my fucking phone,

Shudda known the noise
From washing machine
Was louder than before.
Screens broke data lost,
Boo fuckin hoo.

Sheets came out clean
So did the device,
The lenor freshness
Gives no comfort
When out of warranty.

imgoneplus-3-soft-gold-arrives-diwali-present

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Filed under Birmingham, blog, death, England, life, light, live, London, nature, Poem, poetry, uk, verse

Stone city blues

The colour in my city
is not on tall buildings
mostly grey dirty stone
is the place I call home
Memories of happier times
I love it’s dirt and grime
because industry made it so,
factories were full of life
the ones that pumped out smoke

Now it’s the jobless youth that
stand still and blow out smoke,
Where is their chance,
to add something more
to our Mid-land city?
The skins of my Birmingham
Now bring colour to our streets,
Don’t need shiny reflective circles
on wanabee-fancy shopping malls.

A city born a market town
and a colourful exotic market
is what I see today,
How you feel about colour is like
a tortured black artist once said;
“It all depends on who you are,
on what street”
A golden dickhead once said
My city is “a no-go-zone”
but this only applies
to that American prick!

If you look at the buildings,
you may get the blues
from the stone city greys
but stop and think…
our forefathers worked hard,
strong hearts with steel pulses,
in hot, smelly metal foundaries
to make it this shade of grey,
they clocked out coloured the same,
the black dirt stuck to all men,
Drops of our own sabbath black,
ink from wet UB40 unemployment forms,
our special colour made from darkness.

chamberlain_square_birmingham_april_2007

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Hokey cokey storytellers

Time for a hokey cokey
sounds of words go in
then go out another ear
In, Out, In, Out,
these people are all about

They sniff a london powder
and chat some shit,
good thing that I’m aware!
Pupils now so big
tube trains could fit in
In, Out, In, Out,
Not even touch the sides

Roll another notey
to stop their down
and that’s what,
their life’s about.

SWEB-WY1_V1

 

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Beans on toast

My baby spent all my money,
She want the finer things in life
I loved my pretty baby,
So I let her buy the stuff
But now she’s gone
and all I got left to
eat is baked beans on
my burnt black toast

My baby didn’t go no place
that had no gold stars,
classy woman liked fancy bars,
driven to them in fancy cars
but now I know
she loved that life
more than me
and my beans on toast

maxresdefault

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“Do you like to travel?”

A gentler human asks a question,
Hoping for a vast and exciting answer
‘A cultured-clever-wealthy-fine Sir’
A wrong answer could equal a shun

That is what she demands
Someone to escape and adventure with.
Right response could probably drop pants
Time to enter a cheeky little bid

“I like to read and meditate,
Really clocking up mileage,
I travel the regions within
Or spend nights journeying through page.”

Her facial colour drains well quick
A picture from black ‘n white tv,
How exhilarating to see,
Her unrequited false fate unravel.

A conscience fires up within
Seeing the death become her
Her visible reaction answering
a hundred silent questions

“I have travelled a lot in Europe ,
And often go N8 to see a mate,
You can’t always come with me
But yes, I like to travel.”

escher

 

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Internal mess

Outside is clean,
Face shaved hair styled,
The carpets are hoovered,
Surfaces wiped.

Inside is messy,
Cleaning up isn’t quick!
Takes time
For those surfaces

Like Lady Macbeth
Scrubbing her clean hands
The bloody mess
inside her mind

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Damage limitation

I’m fucked
Wobbly
Can’t even see straight,
The phone calls
Wait,
Takes longer
To press buttons
That don’t exist

Who’s call do I reject?
Can’t forget number one
Surely it’s someone else.
Won’t message her now,
I will deal with it
Tomorrow
Too fucked now

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