O/T Its National Poetry Day

From the bard of Dagenham ....

I saw two shooting stars last night

i wished on them

but they were only satellites

am i wrong to wish on space hardware

i wish, i wish you'd care

 

A rainy afternoon
Spent in the warmest room
She lay before me and said
Yes it's true that I have seen some naked men
As she made for the door
Leaving me on the floor
I wish I'd done biology
For an urge within me wanted to do it then

And here she comes again
And I'm sitting on my hands
And she sings to me that siren song
Here she comes again and I'm biting my lip
But it won't be long

As Brother Barry said
As he married Marion
The wife has three great attributes
Intelligence, a Swiss army knife and charm
But that's not enough sometimes
And she did speak her mind
And told them all that she believed
The only way to disarm is to disarm

I know people whose idea of fun
Is throwing stones in the river in the afternoon sun
Oh let me be as free as them
Don't let her pass this way again
Though you cannot be blamed
But I've become inflamed
With thoughts of lust and thoughts of power
Thoughts of love and thoughts of Chairman Mao
We have such little time
At your place or mine
I can't wait till we take our blood tests
Oh baby let's take our blood tests now

 

"Desolation Row"

They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row.

Cinderella, she seems so easy
"It takes one to know one," she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pockets
Bette Davis style
And in comes Romeo, he's moaning
"You belong to Me I Believe"
And someone says, "You're in the wrong place, my friend
You better leave"
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up
On Desolation Row.

Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortunetelling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row.
Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afraid
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking
Into Desolation Row.

Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
He looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
You would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin
On Desolation Row.

Dr. Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They're trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
"Have Mercy on His Soul"
They all play on penny whistles
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough
From Desolation Row.
Across the street they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
In a perfect image of a priest
They're spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
"Get outa here if you don't know"
Casanova is just being punished for going
To Desolation Row.

At midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row.

They be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
Everybody's shouting
"Which side are you on ?"
And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About Desolation Row.
Yes, I received your letter yesterday
About the time the door knob broke
When you asked me how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke ?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Dont send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row.

Dylan

 

"Cortez The Killer"

He came dancing across the water
With his galleons and guns
Looking for the new world
In that palace in the sun.

On the shore lay Montezuma
With his coca leaves and pearls
In his halls he often wondered
With the secrets of the worlds.

And his subjects
gathered 'round him
Like the leaves around a tree
In their clothes of many colors
For the angry gods to see.

And the women all were beautiful
And the men stood
straight and strong
They offered life in sacrifice
So that others could go on.

Hate was just a legend
And war was never known
The people worked together
And they lifted many stones.

They carried them
to the flatlands
And they died along the way
But they built up
with their bare hands
What we still can't do today.

And I know she's living there
And she loves me to this day
I still can't remember when
Or how I lost my way.

He came dancing across the water
Cortez, Cortez
What a killer.

Young

 

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat
BY EDWARD LEAR
I
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

II
Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.

III
"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

 

There was a young man from Bengal
Who, from stainless steel, made a ball
Two-thirds of its weight
Times pi, minus eight
Equals four-fifths of **** all

A welder I worked with years ago.

 

And he was also responsible for this beauty:

There was a young man from Bombay
Who made a false **** out of clay
But the heat from his prick
Turned the clay into brick
And scraped all his foreskin away

 

There was a young lady called Hirst
Who, in pleasures of men, was well-versed
At the foot of her bed
Was a sign that read
"The customer always comes first"

 

Late at night

while the world is dreaming

way past the stars

that ignore our fate

and twinkle too late to save us

so we save ourselves

Weller

 

Oh the irony! Scheu knew you? Pot-kettle-black! And btw, it's "it's". Google that.

 

No irony; you decided to be a cleverdick over a point that did not exist and then you decided to quote incorrect information. Your final point is correct but pithy.

 

We are arguing on a poetry thread!!! kinell lads.

Anyways bit of Larkin about

They **** you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were ****ed up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

 

Three .

When words do not elicit a figure .
When words stay thoughts .
When words hide
rather than seek .
When words dont fix anything .
When words dig up frustration .
When words make me want to give up .
When words drown my happiness
and when words dont bring any .
When words make me wanna cry
and when words bring anger
between you and i .
When no words make us fight .
Thats when words need paper
for me to write .

© Meliwannahearyou. All rights reserved, 3 years aThre-.-by-Meliwannahearyou

 

No it's not, it's "its" ... Effing autocorrect ... So, sorry, but you're wrong again. But please feel welcome to try (at least) once more.
Are you Ghurkin in disguise? You display all the hallmarks.

 

How odd of God
To choose the Jews.
But not so odd
As those who choose
A Jewish God
Yet spurn the Jews.

(alias) Trilby.

 

If you fancy that your people came of better stock than mine
If you hint of higher breeding by a word or by a sign
If your proud because of fortune or the clever things you do
Then I'll play no second fiddle, I'm a prouder man than you.

If you think your profession has the more gentility and that you
are condesending to be seen along with me. If you notice that I'm
shabby while your clothes are spruce and new.
You have only got to hint it, I'm a prouder man than you.


If you have a swell companion when you see me on the street
And you think I'm too common for your Toney friend to meet
So that I in passing closely, fail to come within your view
Then be blind to me forever. I'm a prouder man than you.

If your character be blameless, If your outward past be clean, whilst It's known my antecedents are not what they should of been. Do not risk contamination, save your name, whate'er you do
Birds of a feather fly together: I'm a prouder bird than you.

Keep your patronage for others ! Gold and station cannot hide
friendship that can laugh at fortune, friendship that can conquer pride!
Offer this as to an equal ~~ let me see that you are true and my wall of pride is shattered.

I am not so proud as you.

 

I can't say I'm much for poetry but Kipling's IF has a profound effect on me every time I've read it - since the first time when I was about 10 and read a copy a friends granddad had framed in their living room.


IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

 

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

 

What are days for?
Days are where we live
They come, they wake us
Time and time over
They are to be happy in
Where can we live but days?

Hull Paragon Station, city of culture.