Tag Archives: poem

PoArtry – The Enforcer

Artwork by Derek Baker.
Poem based on the Image

I twist caps just to hit rats

Takes balls to have a racket, I prefer brick bats

More flaps than Barbour jackets when I’m packing

All gravy when I’m chip stacking

Poker face play the big blind

Take the biscuit and leave the cracker lacking

No slacking, I stick and move, more weight than body shamed youth

Move muted as abusive twitter mentions

Only need planning permission when the scope is extended

Pay up, it’s the best way to end this

Otherwise, it’s red dot on all offenders

I’m a debt collector not a death clock

Ain’t a portrait with my head shot!

Bow!!!

If you heard that, nurse that or it’ll be a bittersweet symphony, where’s your verve at?

I exorcise where you work at.

My nines take lives I wish they were cats

You don’t want those problems

I blew veins for the cheese like I had a dare me intolerance

This ain’t the kind of mud you want to wallow in

What’s the point of debt if the last you have left is the time and air you’re borrowing?

This is the kind of wisdom that would have Solomon swallowing

Pay day is May Day and my steel will steal away with no alarm no caution

Green light on a red head that doesn’t heed a warning.

Bring the heat to your world like I was global warming.

Take your girl and your son cos I’m a knight that doesn’t need her morning.

If you never rolled the dice I wouldn’t have arrived to leave your soul on ice.

Say goodnight and hello to Bruce Forsyth

It was nice to see you, nice.

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Filed under Art, Random Poetics

PoArtry – Pint of Punch

Image: Friday Pay Packet by Derek Baker. – poetry based on the image.

Friday night’s for fighting

It’s Rose and crown vs canvas and brush

Scholar’s on tap to summon the black hats

Will it be brother or blood?

Emerald eyes smell fear and loathing

A chalice of malice passes like communion wine

For a sack of coal you can be out cold

Friday nights are Christmas time

It’s their round for a pound

Two squares stand up to box

Two circle to try angles

A proposal of hunters with no fox

Who will reach the engine room?

Who will smash the crown jewels?

Can Don the diamond produce a shiner or will the piper play the fool?

These two are a blue moon rising

Wolves howling about spilled pints, trodden toes and their rights

Spaces invaded, the only white flags are from those on the side

Wishing it was Saturday.

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Filed under Random Poetics

PoArtry – Miss Polly

“Miss Polly” by Derek Baker, an interpretation of the original poem

Caterwauling choirs, cranberry with canned fizz bull doze sleeping giants across causeways

Emerald eyes rupture roots standing italic, shaking spears at any globe in orbit.

Teacups and tiaras take the biscuit when the silver spoon isn’t full of sugar.

Dunkers hold court but it’s a masquerade ball.

Play by rules you’ve retweeted.

We fall for the measurements kissing the ground hoping they’re others sizes.

A pound of flesh isn’t that expensive.

Have a heart! That’ll do

Won’t you chuckle, brothers?

We sigh into cyclones pedalling clouds to pander.

Ganja seems more sacred than the Ganges but its peace, love and respect right?

Let’s all hold hands please

But don’t touch me

Alright, if you must

Just don’t thrust into the dovetail.

We try to make the “would” work when what’s supposed to isn’t the bigger prism.

Expect folk to harmonise with our music even when the track is hidden.

Ask them to rock our world and never throw stones

Ask for granite provolone in chromosomes forgetting a skeletons just a mobile home full of flaws and cracked windows.

Playing scratched records hoping our set has some floor filling singles.

But what has the bigger ring to it?

Be who you are even if we disagree? OR tick every box until nobody breathes?

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Filed under Art, Random Poetics, Society

Squatting in Space

Railing from missteps

Time slips through my fingers

I can’t catch breaths

With every blink, I beat my breasts and suckle solar flares

Somehow I’m running from my right to be bare

Yeah!

I wash in polarising pools of platitudes and curses

What’s love if they only say patience is a virtue?

My life ain’t chapters they’re verses

I hammer definitions like a wordsmith.

Flattered by my flaws there’s no iron in my steel.

I’m arrested by bars but.

Somehow I am the keys I can’t feel.

How can I drive my life if everything else takes the wheel?

You tell me

What’s the formula one needs?

Is it bleed, heal and repeat?

Is it greet, grope and retreat?

Is it please, police, preach and never teach?

When you’re aiming for the stars….

You don’t lighten the darkness reaching for bleach!

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Filed under Random Poetics

Plodding

You’ll never know what you can bear until you fight with one.

Though I wasn’t bred that way I take a slice to know the light is on.

Been decked by my cards so I shuffle around the boat.

Drowning in the blue that the red mist lead me to.

Clutching pearls that swine gave me.

Scorched earth screaming green as new shoots.

Golden boots give tours of their shoe collections.

You’re only good as your answer to the last question.

The fable of favour requires faith to become a fact

I fight with enlightened beasts, it kills me where I’m at

Blind mice testifying of finding big cheeses releases of hope of planting my flag on the moon.

Everything I should have done has been festooned.

Everyone I should have been, marooned by who am I now.

I look up to look up though I’m down.

What now?

 

 

 

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Filed under Just Living

Home Is A Diving Board

diving board

Trapped between the sound of splashing and touching water

Wearing fanfares to allay fear

Fostering first finishes from ticks glimmering

They say…

Stand within ear shot of the gun to know your target

Is clapping the fruit of the harvest?

Drown, and become a compass from a floating carcass.

Another one who did the math only to make up the numbers

Saddled with sackcloth, shame and numbness

Straddling feint margins, seeking waves as markers.

Struggling to strum the melody of the barking.

Seeking to beat this with heartstrings.

A war-torn dome is only enlightened by stillness.

Choose your weapon before tumbleweed kills you.

Strike with every breath, release gold or reach home.

Time the trapeze, then reach and step.

Let your soul know this was a good body to rent.

 

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Filed under Random Poetics

Down Day

Image result for feeling down

 

They say men are made from stuff women aren’t.

Stronger hands, harder hearts

You can take a beating and dare not flinch

The measure of man’s tiers found in grit not ink.

 

He’s made of wildest dreams and infinite schemes

A man is built to last.

He can plot a tree and chop down forests.

Just women’s ages he dare not ask.

 

A man should have money, a man should have style.

A man commands the stage.

Men have no fear, knows lust not love.

Being a MAN is all the rage.

 

So why do good ones fall and bad ones rise?

Is it safe to even ask?

Is it weak to cry, will he be despised?

Is it wise to be about that?

 

I’m drowning in supposed to be.

What I’m not has been my yoke.

If I’m a man or so I claim will my man card be revoked?

 

I guess I’ll hang from ropes you beat me with.

My failures and dented pride.

When love is lost we count the cost.

No hope and suicide.

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Filed under Just Living, Random Poetics