Practising Troublemaker's Poetry...

[Practising Troublemaker]

Inspired by Robert Neville I have set up my thread, please read and leave comments :)

...Finding my poems so just give me a minute!

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Steven Patrick

A childhood dream that could make even the sanest man scream,
A poet and music man never was a good plan,
For a child in Manchester it should slip away like sand,
Playing by the garden shed at the bottom of the path,
Such an intellectual shouldn’t be able to last,
Re-enacting the trials of Oscar Wilde,
You never were a proper child,
For you knew in a while you would be left behind by a country mile,
Down at the bottom of the garden path,
The days seep by with the clouds in the sky,
You can hear mum and dad rowing in the kitchen,
They really work to earn a living,
Your words mean everything to the youth of today,
But shall anyone listen to what you have say?

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Pointless Game

There are bombs falling around, tearing the earth apart
Smothering our children as they sleep and stopping their sweet hearts
Taking away lives and for nothing much, or for any reason I cannot think of such
A father cries in foreign land and thinks of his wife and their best made plans
And a little London boy clutches so slightly to Mummy’s hand
A bullet pierces the gullet of the man who turns too late and crashes to his long awaited fate
Then, as night falls and a lonely voice calls we hear a pistol crack as a suicidal soul falls to rest on his back
The battle is the game which makes the sanest of men forget his name
A sharp sun rise blinds the tired eyes as they focus on the mounds of mud and dirt,
If only they knew then they would begin to hurt,
For it is not what it seems, as these piles are not from the ground beneath their feet,
Instead they survey a mass of twisted limbs and burnt skins,
Their faces contorted and their lives aborted
“Dear Sweetie”, as the love note starts it burns wide through ones beating heart
For he knows that due to some catastrophic business he won’t be back at home for Christmas
But he just can’t bring himself to tell her and then signs off from his deceiving letter
Nothing won, nothing gained, plenty lost and much pain
It’s just the same at the end of each day and people shouldn’t live this way
War has no reason and conflict has no way, it’s just insane, a pointless game.

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

My fave...

Beneath The Sheets

Beneath the sheets
Is a dream so sweet that I can’t ever contemplate getting out of bed
For it is when I lay and rest my head that we are side by side, or so it is said
You’re the girl of my dreams or so it seems
For whenever I sleep into my mind you creep
And then we are as one

In some funny foreign land you took my hand
We walked east and then west and you lead me astray
But when I sleep you come and steal the night away
We laughed very hard and then we laughed some more
As we wandered along the golden beach shore
The water lapped upon our feet and the trails in the sand looked so neat

You once told me that if we saw a kite flying high in a summers sky
Then it would be our true love wavering higher than anybody else’s
And many times we did see a kite so red I forgot you were just a vision in my head
When we held hands and walked through the dark in the busy city park it felt like everything I had wished for was complete, in fact it was so complete and oh so sweet that I forgot that you are gone when leave my bed sheet

Then the sun begins to rise
And from your grasp I am prized
I wake in bed all alone and I emerge by myself back at home

To remove the sadness of your leaving me I take a walk and try not to talk
I head towards the rivers edge and then I sit down by the hedge
I argue many childish qualms but I know that soon you will be in my arms
And as a cloud disappears out of sight
It is replaced by one bright red flying kite
I smile to myself as though that is enough
For only I and I alone knows that kite spells love

It is approaching night now
And the church has struck quarter too
And so I go back to bed and onwards to you

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Evil

Bullied At School Since The Age Of Six, Slapped Around And Beaten With Sticks
It Twisted My Mind Into Something Sinister, Rather Mean and Deliciously Bitter
So Now, You See They Don’t Come Near Me, They Cross The Street In Sheer Fear
I Loved It So Much That I Could Scare With a Stare Or Even Perhaps Kill With a Touch
But, As The Days Move On I Begin To See, Just What Has Become Of Me
I Used To Sing In The Church and School Choirs But Now I Hit Girls and Adore Brutal Liars,
Crashing Down By a Brick Wall and Looking At The Grey, Industrial Sky

What’s It Like To Be Alone?, What’s It Like To Die Alone?

And Shall You Ever Really Know What Is Home When There’s No Where To Go?

Time After Time I Wonder Why When You Can’t Run You Must Hide

Riding The Town Bike To and Fro, I Knew I Never Turned Where I Wanted To Go

I’d Hate To Live Inside a World Where You Can’t Even Look At a Girl Without Her Thinking You Shall Rape Her Later Or Perhaps Just Wait and Try and Break Her

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

X-Mas Eve

Christmas, is many things one often thinks,
Sitting by a roaring log fire in a cosy room, some family to play the part of company,
For others it is about winter’s wakening, the frost trees, the sharp leaves,
The crunching under foot of snow, pearl white to the eye, cold as the ocean in the dead of night,
Some choose to spend it alone, driving endlessly, through winding mountain paths,
Pulling up by some trees, silhouettes against the star strewn sky, and stepping out, then walking in to that thick, black forest, a lonely soul, the soldier never to return,
Tonight I walk with a pack strapped to my back, head down, and the hat covers my eyes,
Somewhere in a lonely valley I hear a train rattle by, and on board many smiling faces talk, whilst drinking hot cocoa, about the things they feel the man shall bring,
The ears of a wolf prick and stand to attention as those tracks and wheels shudder through the coldest December night,
Muffled voices nearby, they tell me something and yet I ask why?
How come everybody in this one particular night crowds around so happy awe struck by candle light?
Then the answer comes, along with a gust through the trees, everybody has somebody, everybody except me,
Perhaps, I think, if I had somebody to spend it with things would be different, there would be gifts to open, food to eat and a warm bed in which to sleep,
But for now all those things are kept behind locked, wooden doors and frosty glass windows,
I keep on walking and hoping and drinking,
That brandy from the hip flask down on my side keeps me in tight arms protected from the cold on this winter’s night,
And as the train slides by, winding through the mountain’s heart with those merry faces all playing their part,
I begin to think of only one thing as I wrap up and try to sleep by the motherly tree,
I think that just perhaps, just maybe the man shall come to me tonight and leave me the gift I have forever dreamt of,
The gift of Love, and to be back in your arms.

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

a few Moz lyrics always helps...

I Saw Your Face

I saw your face, it seemed to break up the place
Turned my kitchen over and over, oh how I wish you were still sober
A big red nose, you drink anything that flows
And who knows where you go on a Friday night far away from the street light
Down some dark alley or taking crack with a scally
And nobody cares where you go
For when you’re all alone and you clearly have no home
Just don’t say I didn’t tell you so

So make no mistake dear friend your pointless life shall end
And I shall not be prepared to defend

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Sad Boys Cry Quietly

No I don’t want to look you in the eye as we walk around town
The grey skies merge as the sun goes down
And all this sadness creeps around
Drawing us all in to make our minds drown
And this burden that I carry begins to weigh
I cannot tell you of yesterday
All about the antics and exploits that I create
For when a young boy comes I do not hesitate

The buildings tower high above
And they look down on me for they know what I’ve done
I took a boy from off the street and made him a man in the summer heat
We pass over Manchester’s dirty river and due to thoughts I start to shiver
For it is down below that I asked him to deliver

We pass by school gates in Whalley Range and I notice him there looking so strange
I then my feet blur as I increase the pace upon him noticing my familiar face
He runs to the rail and tracks my trail
I wake up screaming, how do I tell her?


Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Winter, Isolation

Winters eve strikes home once more,
The moon through the trees and the stars sparkle high above,
In the study to which I have resigned I carefully set the whisky aside on a desk, moonlit in the lonely night,
I write furiously, trying to say in twenty words something that would take any man a thousand,
As the ink seeps into parchment my mind tries to wander into the taboo of my future,
A soul whom is me begins at the age of thirty begins to question ‘what shall I be when I grow up to be a man?’
The clock on the wall tries to say it all, as a minute drags on like a month drags on, it’s very short but it seems very long,
As the owl calls outside, nestling down for the night, I rest the pen for one last time failing to think of the correct words to write,
The days of youth have left me laughing, they came so fast, knocked me over and kicked me when I fell down,
Recalling past memories when I used to see myself as an accountant, a playwright or a politician,
And you told me ‘you’ll never make it’ to which I replied ‘did I bloody well say I wanted to?’
Slipping back, almost sleeping into the leather recliner,
Hour after hour trying to fathom from somewhere deep inside, my true passion and aim in life,
And then it comes, as obvious as a blinding light, pulsating through my limbs and surging to my mind, a poet, like Wilde, like Keats or even Yeats
The burning desire to write cannot wait

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Summer

Long summer stretches ahead,
Fields, green, endlessly peaceful,
Trees, fresh sparkle in the sunlight,
I want to run away from this!

Long summer leaves way,
For many smiling faces,
The work is dropped momentarily,
People fly to strange new places,
Please take me away from this!

Take your summer dreams and your sunny afternoons,
Place them in one large capsule,
And please shove it up your arse,
For what fun is it?
What fun is anything without you?

Forget the fields, green and endlessly bloody quiet,
Trees, blinding your eyes with sharp sun rise,
Crash your planes into the ocean,
Nothing makes me happy or seems vaguely real without you here,
It is not days of football in fields,
Pints in pubs that make me smile, no,
The only way to open my eyes, to make me walk in a straight line,
Is when you are here beside me.

…Come, clock on the wall, speed fast,
End the break and best of all,
Make our unknown love last.


Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

~Young boy from the city,
Trying to escape,
You blamed the buildings and the people,
But you knew you could not wait,
You wanted to move fast,
Towards the path of love,
Saw the lady of your dreams,
But you never got the courage up,
To ask her out for a drink,
A walk around the town,
Read her beautiful literature,
Or play her your favourite sounds,
Walking past her doorway,
Trying to find a reason,
To enter the room of heaven,
To have a conversation,
You smiled at every word she said,
With her in mind, you’d smile when you’re dead,
Watch her walk away, unaware of your passion
Does she feel the same, have you even asked her?
And as the sun settles behind the evening clouds,
She locks her door and walks away,
You want to run and follow her,
To tell her want you think of her,
But something grips you deep inside,
You think “perhaps tomorrow night”,
Little did you know that this,
Would be the last chance of your first kiss,
She leaves for home and further places,
Job left behind, you find this so outrageous,
She turns the corner and disappears,
You choke as you wipe your tears,
You didn’t even tell her, you shall never tell her.~

Love PTxx.

[sweet and tender hooligan]

Steven Patrick

A childhood dream that could make even the sanest man scream,
A poet and music man never was a good plan,
For a child in Manchester it should slip away like sand,
Playing by the garden shed at the bottom of the path,
Such an intellectual shouldn’t be able to last,
Re-enacting the trials of Oscar Wilde,
You never were a proper child,
For you knew in a while you would be left behind by a country mile,
Down at the bottom of the garden path,
The days seep by with the clouds in the sky,
You can hear mum and dad rowing in the kitchen,
They really work to earn a living,
Your words mean everything to the youth of today,
But shall anyone listen to what you have say?

Love PTxx.

Oh i like this one:D
I haven't read the rest but i will do later.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Oh i like this one:D
I haven't read the rest but i will do later.

Thank you...means a lot

I guesst they shall all take some reading :)

Love PTxx.

[Robert Neville]

Inspired by Robert Neville I have set up my thread, please read and leave comments :)

...Finding my poems so just give me a minute!

Love PTxx.

I've inspired someone? :D

[Practising Troublemaker]

I've inspired someone? :D

Oh yes you have, would have never had the idea or confidence to set up my own poetry thread had it not been for you!

Love PTxx.

[bikubesong]

Sad Boys Cry Quietly

No I don’t want to look you in the eye as we walk around town
The grey skies merge as the sun goes down
And all this sadness creeps around
Drawing us all in to make our minds drown
And this burden that I carry begins to weigh
I cannot tell you of yesterday
All about the antics and exploits that I create
For when a young boy comes I do not hesitate

The buildings tower high above
And they look down on me for they know what I’ve done
I took a boy from off the street and made him a man in the summer heat
We pass over Manchester’s dirty river and due to thoughts I start to shiver
For it is down below that I asked him to deliver

We pass by school gates in Whalley Range and I notice him there looking so strange
I then my feet blur as I increase the pace upon him noticing my familiar face
He runs to the rail and tracks my trail
I wake up screaming, how do I tell her?


Love PTxx.
I really like this one. And I hope you continue writing poems, You're good, and it seems like you like it:)

Love, xx

[Practising Troublemaker]

I really like this one. And I hope you continue writing poems, You're good, and it seems like you like it:)

Love, xx

Thanks, that poem creeped me out when writing it, but I did so anyway, glad you liked it!

Love PTxx. ( More poems to come )

[bogdana]

you know what i like about your poetry? its artistic without being pretentious. a lot of people write garbage, claim they are poems and that they are poets. this is why i have general contempt for poetry. but yours are good. and some of them rhyme and im very happy about that, because somewhere around 1989 the world decided poetry that had rhyme in them werent 'real' poems and i say 'fuck you, pretentious morons with sticks up your asses, poems that have rhyming elements are more poetic than your random words bunched up in different places on the paper!".
There's one book of poems that dont rhyme that i like, but the topic is what makes it emotional, not necessarily the placement of words. Its about WW2 from the german child's side. i can't remember the title of the book but i will look it up.

[Practising Troublemaker]

you know what i like about your poetry? its artistic without being pretentious. a lot of people write garbage, claim they are poems and that they are poets. this is why i have general contempt for poetry. but yours are good. and some of them rhyme and im very happy about that, because somewhere around 1989 the world decided poetry that had rhyme in them werent 'real' poems and i say 'fuck you, pretentious morons with sticks up your asses, poems that have rhyming elements are more poetic than your random words bunched up in different places on the paper!".
There's one book of poems that dont rhyme that i like, but the topic is what makes it emotional, not necessarily the placement of words. Its about WW2 from the german child's side. i can't remember the title of the book but i will look it up.

Thanks for your very kind comments, I never purposefully try and rhyme, it just comes to me when I write the poem. If I feel like I am set there saying "ok, so what rhymes with...?" then I stop the poem as it feels too forced, to me poetry should come naturally. I love war poetry, currently doing a course on it at school.

Love PTxx.

[bogdana]

Tales from a child of the enemy (http://www.amazon.com/Tales-Child-Enemy-Ursula-Duba/dp/014058787X)
see if you can find this book for cheaps, its beautiful and tragic. i love it. and i dont even like poems.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Tales from a child of the enemy (http://www.amazon.com/Tales-Child-Enemy-Ursula-Duba/dp/014058787X)
see if you can find this book for cheaps, its beautiful and tragic. i love it. and i dont even like poems.

That looks really nice, shall begin to look for a copy!

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Snow In The Leaves, Sun Through Trees

Falling from high above,
Heavens miles high,
Send down flakes of brilliant white,
Layered on the ground,
Telling me of times gone by,
Christmas in the church yard,
Leaves beneath children’s feet,
Laughing at the twisted turn of nature,
Sun dapples and yet air hangs frozen,
Hats and gloves hiding rosy cheeks,
Snow angles sprawl on the frosty floor,
Fun and games at no cost,
For a brief moment responsibility is lost,
They run in such white beauty whilst they slip and slide into heaven,
Breath exhales to form a smokers mist before cold, blue eyes,
As night draws in the street lights erupt into dazzling splendour,
Drawing youth to their beds,
Hot chocolate before the pillow cushions their heads,
The village sleeps with a smile on its face

Love PTxx.

[Corrissey]

These are all wonderful, PT. You are quite talented. It'd be nice to hear Morrissey 'sing' a few of these ;) Keep up the good work, kid. :)

[Robert Neville]

Well, I have been outdone, i've enjoyed every single one :D

[Practising Troublemaker]

Until Death Do Us Part

Woke up from dreaming of you last night
Now the sun breaks the bank of clouds, filling an empty room with light,
Images of lucid imagination come back to me, they slap me into shape;
Wearily rise to check I am still alive,
Black bird sings a song outside.

Days of our marriage came back last night
Stinging eyes fighting back cold tears, burning steadily into my mind:
- Sad to say that I still love you
Despite your departure many years ago.

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Well, I have been outdone, i've enjoyed every single one :D

Aw, cheers mate. Keep your work coming, I really enjoy it.

Love PTxx.

[laughing_anne]

I love war poetry, currently doing a course on it at school.

Love PTxx.

Then you're probably familiar with this one. I'm not too keen on war poetry, but this one I like. :)

Break of Day in the Trenches
by Isaac Rosenberg

The darkness crumbles away
It is the same old druid Time as ever,
Only a live thing leaps my hand,
A queer sardonic rat,
As I pull the parapet's poppy
To stick behind my ear.
Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
Your cosmopolitan sympathies,
Now you have touched this English hand
You will do the same to a German
Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
To cross the sleeping green between.
It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
Less chanced than you for life,
Bonds to the whims of murder,
Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
The torn fields of France.
What do you see in our eyes
At the shrieking iron and flame
Hurled through still heavens?
What quaver -what heart aghast?
Poppies whose roots are in men's veins
Drop, and are ever dropping;
But mine in my ear is safe,
Just a little white with the dust.

And keep writing, I really respect people who can write. (I couldn't write a poem to safe my life ;))

[Practising Troublemaker]

Then you're probably familiar with this one. I'm not too keen on war poetry, but this one I like. :)

Break of Day in the Trenches
by Isaac Rosenberg

The darkness crumbles away
It is the same old druid Time as ever,
Only a live thing leaps my hand,
A queer sardonic rat,
As I pull the parapet's poppy
To stick behind my ear.
Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
Your cosmopolitan sympathies,
Now you have touched this English hand
You will do the same to a German
Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
To cross the sleeping green between.
It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
Less chanced than you for life,
Bonds to the whims of murder,
Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
The torn fields of France.
What do you see in our eyes
At the shrieking iron and flame
Hurled through still heavens?
What quaver -what heart aghast?
Poppies whose roots are in men's veins
Drop, and are ever dropping;
But mine in my ear is safe,
Just a little white with the dust.

And keep writing, I really respect people who can write. (I couldn't write a poem to safe my life ;))

I really like that poem...war poetry always seems to have an emotion which is what poetry needs.

Thanks for your comments :)

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Lover’s Arms

When we faced one another,
On that warm and golden eve,
Tingling through the body started,
The mind pulsated,
How very well I was aware that as you stood gazing back at me,
You felt very much the same,
As the sun set behind green pastures forgotten,
The excitement of what might be and what could be unfolded,
There stood a passion wrapped in lovers arms,
Silent but smiling faces told a story more powerful than words

Your youth passed you by,
I spent mine being shy,
Tricked and tormented,
For years you were stranded,
Waylaid on the council estate,
You were conscripted to others,
Others who had been lost in the search for love,
Nobody could see you,
Tonight is the time to put things right,
Show you a safety haven

I stood to say that the world is a brutal place,
But when did we get beaten by that?
The world is but a hindrance to itself
No past, no people for which it can be proud,
Only days provided in which we could divulge,
A love long forgotten

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Saturday Afternoon

Saturday afternoon, in the local park,
Brings thoughts, sinister and sharp,
Yet they comfort and provide the escape for which I cry

Sun, sinking through trees,
Smiling faces in the gentle breeze,
Birds sing,
To everything

Children laugh, run to the lush, green grass,
Trees stand still surveying all around them,
Like old fathers who have stood through time,
Branches carefully swayed in the afternoon heat

The lake, rests as though sleeping,
Ripples catching awe,
From the great simmering ball high above,
Couples walk laughing, in love

Then, all too soon ideas come,
As white clouds cover up the sun,
Cars move away, signal, end of the day
No children left laughing,
Even the lake sits still

Feet drag to park bench,
I am simply too tired to continue in this world,
Sleeping and slipping further to that safety haven,
Everything gained, everything lost, but I picked it all up again,
Asking God for an answer,
Dear Lord, Am I On The Next Plane Out Of Here?

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Where do you start when asked to describe the most beautiful sight?
How about a New York skyline or even the Northern lights?
The man you saw the other day who fought to save your life?
The ritual bond that brings together smiling husband, ecstatic wife?

And then I think of the answer, as obvious as can be,
The most beautiful thing for which I have searched,
Smiling right back at me,
I gently shrug in that shy way I do,
But I am very sure that you knew I meant you.

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Sunny day in New York City, the business man dodges a yellow taxi as it races by.
Dancing takes place on the street corner, a crowd has now gathered:
Market stands which drive the crowds in dictated directions,
Families on holiday, the Italian, the New York resident,
Each has its own existence in this new world.
Across the road, a man preaches about the future
Two bleak figures out to destroy,
You question how, on this blissful day

The one who stands out from the crowd,
Smiles, smoking a cigar,
Whilst gazing at the those tall buildings above,
Children run wild, tearing to pieces the business papers,
Meaningless chatter fills your ears,
You cannot hear anything above the racket,
It would truly take a blast to erase the talk of New York

Places that you felt only existed on television screens,
Suddenly greet you, American pride rides in this heaven,
The land of the free, liberty is painted upon that statue,
Does this greet? Does this simply meet
The eye of every passer by?

Brooklyn, Manhattan, Bronx seem a million miles from the misery of England,
Entertainers entertain us,
A familiar logo stitched on baseball shirts,
The bridge hangs, suspended above the beautiful river below,
Put your Washington minds far behind,
This is the heart of America, the life of the world,
It hangs in those faces, stands on those buildings,
So strong, able to withstand whatever may come

The sun dies out briefly, bliss breathed its last,
For that married couple that walk hand in hand, the honey moon is over,
Those children look confused,
Caught in innocent youth, too early to understand,
Subway trains stop in mid ride, The taxis sit staring,
Blue sky simply becomes black,
Those two tall twins twist and turn,
As they crash and slowly burn,
People jump but they know it is too late,
New York is dead,
The city that never sleeps finally closed its eyes

Love PTxx.

[jesuisbryony]

:) PT these are wonderful
I read and truely enjoyed them all

[Practising Troublemaker]

:) PT these are wonderful
I read and truely enjoyed them all

THANK YOU :D

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

You’re The One Who Ran Away

She just passes me by,
I only tried my best to get near,
The broken boy clutching at straws,
No chance of being near,
Sometimes I just wanna cry,
Tell me why,
Tell me why?

You’re the one who got away,
Slipped right past before my eyes,
You’re the one who ran away,
Sometimes I wanna die,
London lips tell me why,
Tell me why?

As the dust settles, I admit I am wrong,
To have tried, in the eyes,
I wonder why did I try?
I just want to be back there with you,
Closing in upon,
The day is dead but the night is young,
You’re the one, but you’ve now gone

You’re the one who got away,
Slipped right past before my eyes,
You’re the one who ran away,
Sometimes I wanna die,
London lips tell me why,
Tell me why?

Well nobody likes to be alone,
Walk on back to your empty home,
Your photo stands on my shelf,
I followed youth’s foundations,
To try and save myself,
Well nobody likes to be without you,
An early bird that flew,
But I know you,
I know you

You’re the one who got away,
Slipped right past before my eyes,
You’re the one who ran away,
Sometimes I wanna die,
London lips tell me why,
Tell me why?

In turn, I need you to take me down,
I need to be turned around,
Slap me into shape,
I will not make that mistake,
You’re the one and I can see,
You’re making your way back to me

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Breaking glass, moving fast,
My living is becoming howls in the existential void,
Tainted by people I’d rather avoid,
But I don’t care anymore,
I’m laying on the floor,
You don’t mean a thing,
All the senses are here to make me sing

You stopped walking and stared back,
You don’t blink at me anymore,
You stepped out of the one way door,
I’d have traded planets for you,
I’d have killed people for you,
I can’t get you anymore,
You ran out the one way door

...this isn't a poem, it is the first workings of BullDog's new song! Soundign very Joy Division-esque at the moment!

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Out Of Touch

Breaking glass, moving fast,
My living is becoming howls in the void,
Tainted by people I’d rather avoid,
But I don’t care anymore,
I’m falling down on the floor,
You don’t mean a thing,
The senses are here to make me sing,
You don’t matter as you use to, well not quite,
the sense are here to make me write

You stopped walking and stared back,
You don’t blink at me anymore,
You stepped out of the one way door,
I’d have traded planets for you,
I’d have killed people for you,
I can’t get you anymore,
You ran out the one way door

I’m trying to sleep,
I’m waking every hour,
Still stuck very much here,
Staring at the door in fear,
Going the same way as you,
Direction looks so crazy to me,
That swinging rope shall set me free,
I’m drinking too much,
I’m falling on the floor,
Calling out you name in dreams,
Still hoping for something more

You stopped walking and stared back,
You don’t blink at me anymore,
You stepped out of the one way door,
I’d have bust a gut for you,
I’d have rewritten the world for you,
I can’t get you anymore,
You ran out the one way door

So skin me down and you can see,
Just what the hell you meant to me,
As the voices tell me where and why,
I am falling on my knees, praying that I cry,
I’ll never know just why it came to me,
Running home to try and find you,
But six feet beneath I won’t find you,
I gave up trying because I just knew,

You stopped walking and stared back,
You don’t blink at me anymore,
You stepped out of the one way door,
I’d have crashed the cars for you,
I’d have shone the sun for you,
I can’t get you anymore,
You ran out the one way door

...first draft, listening to music for song it sounds like Joy Division did it!

Love PTxx.

[Robert Neville]

Out Of Touch

Breaking glass, moving fast,
My living is becoming howls in the void,
Tainted by people I’d rather avoid,
But I don’t care anymore,
I’m falling down on the floor,
You don’t mean a thing,
The senses are here to make me sing,
You don’t matter as you use to, well not quite,
the sense are here to make me write

You stopped walking and stared back,
You don’t blink at me anymore,
You stepped out of the one way door,
I’d have traded planets for you,
I’d have killed people for you,
I can’t get you anymore,
You ran out the one way door

I’m trying to sleep,
I’m waking every hour,
Still stuck very much here,
Staring at the door in fear,
Going the same way as you,
Direction looks so crazy to me,
That swinging rope shall set me free,
I’m drinking too much,
I’m falling on the floor,
Calling out you name in dreams,
Still hoping for something more

You stopped walking and stared back,
You don’t blink at me anymore,
You stepped out of the one way door,
I’d have bust a gut for you,
I’d have rewritten the world for you,
I can’t get you anymore,
You ran out the one way door

So skin me down and you can see,
Just what the hell you meant to me,
As the voices tell me where and why,
I am falling on my knees, praying that I cry,
I’ll never know just why it came to me,
Running home to try and find you,
But six feet beneath I won’t find you,
I gave up trying because I just knew,

You stopped walking and stared back,
You don’t blink at me anymore,
You stepped out of the one way door,
I’d have crashed the cars for you,
I’d have shone the sun for you,
I can’t get you anymore,
You ran out the one way door

...first draft, listening to music for song it sounds like Joy Division did it!

Love PTxx.

This is very good, I would like to hear the music :D

[Practising Troublemaker]

Ok, well things are going pretty slow with the band due to exams etc. etc.

But here are first drafts of lyrics for a song about Johnny Thunders and The New York Dolls!

Pin me up to your wall,
Inject my veins and watch me fall,
To the ground without a sound,
Deeply in love with golden brown,
Pull my pants down from my legs,
Make me wake with you in bed,
Wondering why and wondering when,
The lipstick killers don’t dress as men

The easy way out, the easy route in,
Is to take the pills,
To take your pity,
Watch me sit in school and fail,
Drag me out, smack my head on the rail,
The lipstick killers live and breathe to steal of what you deliver

It sails down through the city,
Wailing mock-rock, dressed as girls we pity,
These deeply troubled boys of youth,
How did they end up just like this?
Suffering from a personality crisis!

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

For Those Who Simply Want To Run

Ireland, I need,
To be,
Safe,
Within your grasp,
Never to unclasp,
Lying, in the grass,
Clouds, high and parting,
Sounds of the country,
Reel around on record players,
Vibrantly signing, harmony,
For once I feel so very free,
Singing and sighing myself to sleep,
I drain that whiskey bottle empty,
Racing from extremes of sweet and sorry,
But the sun shall still shine tomorrow,
Sit down, please,
Let me tell you everything,
Of what my home could not bring,
Back I raced, to where I had never been before,
Better than the needle,
The pink pill of pure bliss,
This promised land,
Took my hand,
Lead me this way and that,
I came home,
I came back,
I came back home,
In Ireland’s lush green fields I am free to roam,
Sorry mother, I am never returning to your home,
Your son is gone,
But he is now happy,
And as he left he remembers how you waved as the sun shone xx.

Love PTxx.

[Skinner]

For Those Who Simply Want To Run

Ireland, I need,
To be,
Safe,
Within your grasp,
Never to unclasp,
Lying, in the grass,
Clouds, high and parting,
Sounds of the country,
Reel around on record players,
Vibrantly signing, harmony,
For once I feel so very free,
Signing and sighing myself to sleep,
I drain that whiskey bottle empty,
Racing from extremes of sweet and sorry,
But the sun shall still shine tomorrow,
Sit down, please,
Let me tell you everything,
Of what my home could not bring,
Back I raced, to where I had never been before,
Better than the needle,
The pink pill of pure bliss,
This promised land,
Took my hand,
Lead me this way and that,
I came home,
I came back,
I came back home,
In Ireland’s lush green fields I am free to roam,
Sorry mother, I am never returning to your home,
Your son is gone,
But he is now happy,
And as he left he remembers how you waved as the sun shone xx.

Love PTxx.


Nice poem :)

p.s. I'll meet you there.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Written about somebody who feels they have failed in education and is just stranded as all theirs friends leave for university and new places.

This Is Goodbye
People are now passing on to strange new places,
Can I capture up with youth?
Can I ever be a part of you?
As trains roll by, leaving stations, empty,
Tears swell, as to my dearest I wave goodbye,
Please be here, protect and be safe,
With me, a passion is built to sustain,
Don’t leave me behind,
University and higher education,
Where do I apply for lust and infatuation?
But now I am alone,
Dearest friend, when shall you be home?
So that on the city streets we roam,
Too late, your chance has gone,
As off to Ireland shall now fly,
My dearest friend, this is truly goodbye xx.

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Impossible Travel

Why does money dictate?
The roads on which we walk,
The paths of life which stretch eternally,
Miles high and miles wide,
This world,
It is wasted on pathetic lives,
New York City and the Planes of Africa,
Lands which I only see when I close my eyes,
One cannot simply reach out and touch,
The stars above them,
The places painted in pictures which now hang,
Suspended by nails in art galleries,
The posh bitches and aristocratic bastards,
They stand and gaze making interpretations,
What stroke means now and which splash of paint meant then?
I,
I walk alone,
Hands buried in my tweed coat,
Wanting to climb inside the frame and smile, sleep,
Never to come back again,
Australia, Canada and Dubai,
I can’t reach you,
I don’t know why,
When you stand only waters away,
But too far to swim,
Restricted by the metal and paper which contains me to one place,
The world,
Has been wasted too many times,
By men with too much money,
To allow broad minds,
Born here, raised here,
And here my body and soul dies.

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Written in a record spped of 1min 30secs (and you probs tell)

How do I get close to you?
And how do I find the right words to say,
To make you come my way?
Your face is displayed upon screens of new technology,
But I cannot climb inside,
The picture frame,
To hold you and tell you off the things,
That your smile and words bring,
Oh immaculate love,
Rushing from deep inside,
Yet you,
I still cannot find,
In no streets or buildings,
No bus that goes by carries you onboard,
And if there were any signals,
Or indication,
It was ignored,
But please tell me,
I did not run,
I merely hid,
From the truth,
From what was meant to be,
In my dreams,
You do often come to me,
And laugh then kiss me,
We swam to shore,
Then we found the right path to explore,
And on the stage you stand,
Guitar in hand,
Hair shines,
Along with your eyes,
A task too hard to complete,
Some say love just gets lost,
But it simply never does,
Perhaps mislaid,
But never lost,
We have never met,
But I feel we have spoken,
On many occasions,
And yes,
More than ever,
Nothing is going my way,
But I shall stand through the storm,
Get soaked in the rushing rain,
Take the smiles,
And feel the pain,
And I will stand on this road,
As you shall turn that corner,
And come to me,
Someday.

Love PTxx.

(I would love it if you could leave some comments on the more recent additions. I have to put together a portfolio of poetry in English next year and will include some of these so comments would be most appreciated)

[Practising Troublemaker]

On this silent night,
The stars will shine,
Even if I have to climb up there and turn them on for you,
On this still night,
The moon will hang and stand,
Like the soldier in war,
The proud and strong man,
I see how it casts its life onto the loch surface,
In the pub behind me,
An Irish man sings about a thing known as love,
And I wonder if I shall ever find what it is,
I sip Guinness below,
But there is a whole world above,
In constellations,
Perhaps this is love?
But whilst I sit,
Alone on this cold and lonely night,
I think about the day you left,
On that boat that took you out of sight,
To New York City,
And I wailed, I mourned and I pitied,
It sank and took you down,
But it is time to change,
As I will find you now,
And so,
Very slowly I walk,
To the water’s edge,
The great ocean,
I am high on love’s potion,
I shall swim to the middle of this vast pool,
As I am now searching to find you,
And if I don’t return to shore again,
If I lose the beating heart as I swim away,
That doesn’t matter,
As I shall hold you tightly,
Once again,
Someday.

Love PTxx.

[mspendl828]

an incomplete one...

Them Was Bloody Miserable Days

Seventies!, Thatcher!!, Manchester!!!, FUCKED!!!!
Them was bloody miserable days,

Especially with that hard hearted bitch in charge

She travelled with her crowd all over the shop and smiled so nicely
But secretly I know what she hid and, well, I suppose we all did
If she thought that what she did was make us happy, you know something to tell the kids
Well, she must have been mad, out of the game, how about…FUCKING INSANE!

I clearly remember in my ear whilst working the factory floor, Hey we’re on strike, put down your tools from today we work no more
And with that a job was done, the country on strike, what fun
For a time it seemed alright not having to work nine to five,
But soon the shine wore away stating the shit hole of the nation to which we pray,
Eating salad from yesterday is the price that the whore in charge made us pay

We would get some more you see but there is no food in the supermarkets

In Thatcher's Fucked up Britain even the dead wait in line!

Love PTxx.

Oh where, oh where to start...


Seventies!, Thatcher!!, Manchester!!!, FUCKED!!!!
Them was bloody miserable days

Yes, the 70s were 'bloody miserable days'. However, to blame Thatcher for that is remarkably stupid as Thatcher became PM in 1979. So I don't understand you blaming her for the most left wing government the UK ever had fucking things up for everyone. Can you explain please?



I clearly remember in my ear whilst working the factory floor, Hey we’re on strike, put down your tools from today we work no more...

I presume this a reference to the Winter of Discontent? As the name 'Winter of Discontent' suggests this was during the winter of 1978/1979. The widespread strikes by trade unions you reference were due to attempted enforcement of the Labour government's rule that pay rises be kept below 5%. Which is what the left like to do - force what they think is best on the people rather than let businesses and individuals decide what is best for them. It was the massive mismanagement by the Callaghan government in this period that allowed Thatcher to come from 5% behind in the polls in November 1978 to a 20% lead in February 1979.


In Thatcher's Fucked up Britain even the dead wait in line!

This really should say "In Callaghan's Left Wing Fucked up Britain even the dead wait in line!"




I have no issues what so ever of critism of Thatcher, but for the love of God have at least some idea what you're talking about before you do so.

[Mr. Manchester]

For Those Who Simply Want To Run

Ireland, I need,
To be,
Safe,
Within your grasp,
Never to unclasp,
Lying, in the grass,
Clouds, high and parting,
Sounds of the country,
Reel around on record players,
Vibrantly signing, harmony,
For once I feel so very free,
Singing and sighing myself to sleep,
I drain that whiskey bottle empty,
Racing from extremes of sweet and sorry,
But the sun shall still shine tomorrow,
Sit down, please,
Let me tell you everything,
Of what my home could not bring,
Back I raced, to where I had never been before,
Better than the needle,
The pink pill of pure bliss,
This promised land,
Took my hand,
Lead me this way and that,
I came home,
I came back,
I came back home,
In Ireland’s lush green fields I am free to roam,
Sorry mother, I am never returning to your home,
Your son is gone,
But he is now happy,
And as he left he remembers how you waved as the sun shone xx.

Love PTxx.


If Ireland is so great. Go there and Stay there,.

Mr. M.

[mspendl828]

If Ireland is so great. Go there and Stay there,.

Mr. M.

To be fair to the boy, I believe he's from Leeds, so compared to that shithole Ireland might not be all that bad. ;)

[Mr. Manchester]

an incomplete one...

Them Was Bloody Miserable Days

Seventies!, Thatcher!!, Manchester!!!, FUCKED!!!!
Them was bloody miserable days,

Especially with that hard hearted bitch in charge

She travelled with her crowd all over the shop and smiled so nicely
But secretly I know what she hid and, well, I suppose we all did
If she thought that what she did was make us happy, you know something to tell the kids
Well, she must have been mad, out of the game, how about…FUCKING INSANE!

I clearly remember in my ear whilst working the factory floor, Hey we’re on strike, put down your tools from today we work no more
And with that a job was done, the country on strike, what fun
For a time it seemed alright not having to work nine to five,
But soon the shine wore away stating the shit hole of the nation to which we pray,
Eating salad from yesterday is the price that the whore in charge made us pay

We would get some more you see but there is no food in the supermarkets

In Thatcher's Fucked up Britain even the dead wait in line!

Love PTxx.


First of all, why are you posting "incomplete" poetry? You dont see Morrissey coming onstage and annoncing "this is a half written song" noow, do you?

Anyway, what do you know about Thatchers Britain that inspired this poetry? Obviously not the timeframe. Whichs all the of the 80's, most of 1990 and most of 1979).

Obviously she was "fucking insane" to close down all those money losing state owned businesses, which had hlt the british economy back for decades. she was obviously insane to introduce the Right to Buy program, which got hundreds of thousands of people on the property market, an opportunity which would never have presented itself. It was terrible that she sent the troops to the Falkland Islands and prevented people from falling under an oppressive dictatorship. It was absolutely god awful that she created a soceity in which business could thrive, because we all know how bad its been with all this overseas investment in the British economy. It was unbelievable that she dismanteld the unions, the same unions who had held the british people by the balls throughout the 70's with zero democratic mandate to do so. and it is unforgivable that she privatized inflexible and loss making businesses alloweing people to own there own shares and businesses.

Mr. Manchester.

By the way. I've got two degrees in politics. So dont try and outstmart me or I will humilate you.

[Practising Troublemaker]

I have no issues what so ever of critism of Thatcher, but for the love of God have at least some idea what you're talking about before you do so.

Ok, that was a poem written at a time when I was, as you can tell, rambling. I wasn't too aware of dates etc. etc. etc. I just decided to write what was coming into my mind. If I were going to publish this or whatever then I would be much more careful over the details but I just wrote it in some state of boredom when I was simply putting one word after another hoping that they made some sense...obviously, to some, they did not.

Sorry to have caused such offense, (but Thatcher was still a bitch), like I say comments appreciated.

Love PTxx.

[Mr. Manchester]

This poetry sucks.

[Amy]

If Ireland is so great. Go there and Stay there,.

Mr. M.

What the hell does it matter to you if he likes Ireland?

[mspendl828]

Ok, that was a poem written at a time when I was, as you can tell, rambling. I wasn't too aware of dates etc. etc. etc. I just decided to write what was coming into my mind. If I were going to publish this or whatever then I would be much more careful over the details but I just wrote it in some state of boredom when I was simply putting one word after another hoping that they made some sense...obviously, to some, they did not.

Sorry to have caused such offense, (but Thatcher was still a bitch), like I say comments appreciated.

Love PTxx.

Well you've written a poem about something you clearly don't actually know anything about. I'm not actually trying to just be cunt here for the sake of it, but in the same way I wouldn't decide to write a poem about life in the Afican bush because I have no fucking idea what it's like! You know?

And it's not details you've gotten wrong, the whole peice is just one factual error as the whole poem is blaming Thatcher for two specific things that she was not responsible for during a decade where when she was not PM. Details would be putting the 1st of July when it was actually the 1st of August.

And how anyone can now take your "and Thatcher was still a bitch" comment seriously (not that I'm presuming it was, I'm presuming it was just a throw away line) now after showing that amount of ignorance of what she did is also beyond me.

Anyway, at least some of it rhymed! :guitar:


EDIT: And you do not fucking love me, so please avoid that affectation when replying to my posts. Thank you.

[Practising Troublemaker]

If Ireland is so great. Go there and Stay there,.

Mr. M.

It is a poem, not some plea to get me there. It is just some literature. I am allowed to like places.


To be fair to the boy, I believe he's from Leeds, so compared to that shithole Ireland might not be all that bad. ;)

Ha, kind of true...but don't be too harsh on Leeds.


First of all, why are you posting "incomplete" poetry? You dont see Morrissey coming onstage and annoncing "this is a half written song" noow, do you?

Anyway, what do you know about Thatchers Britain that inspired this poetry? Obviously not the timeframe. Whichs all the of the 80's, most of 1990 and most of 1979).

Obviously she was "fucking insane" to close down all those money losing state owned businesses, which had hlt the british economy back for decades. she was obviously insane to introduce the Right to Buy program, which got hundreds of thousands of people on the property market, an opportunity which would never have presented itself. It was terrible that she sent the troops to the Falkland Islands and prevented people from falling under an oppressive dictatorship. It was absolutely god awful that she created a soceity in which business could thrive, because we all know how bad its been with all this overseas investment in the British economy. It was unbelievable that she dismanteld the unions, the same unions who had held the british people by the balls throughout the 70's with zero democratic mandate to do so. and it is unforgivable that she privatized inflexible and loss making businesses alloweing people to own there own shares and businesses.

Mr. Manchester.

By the way. I've got two degrees in politics. So dont try and outstmart me or I will humilate you.

Oops, looks like I touched a nerve there. Ouch!

As this poem has caused such silly offense I have removed it. What makes you think I would want to waste my time with you debating politics? Ok, ok, you have two degress 'ladi-da, pat on the back' and all that. Like I said earlier it is just what the hell I wanted to write, not some serious political stance.


This poetry sucks.

Good God, you are a low life cunt.

Love PTxx.

[Mr. Manchester]

Anyway, at least some of it rhymed! :guitar:

And after all, isnt that all that counts?

I've not come across such awful poetry in a long time.

[Practising Troublemaker]

What the hell does it matter to you if he likes Ireland?

Thank you Amy, thank you. At least somebody isn't biting my head off.

Love PTxx.

[Amy]

I'm not actually trying to just be cunt here for the sake of it

:cool:

[mspendl828]

As this poem has caused such silly offense I have removed it. What makes you think I would want to waste my time with you debating politics?


You wrote a poem about politics.

That would be clue.

;)

[Practising Troublemaker]

Well you've written a poem about something you clearly don't actually know anything about. I'm not actually trying to just be cunt here for the sake of it, but in the same way I wouldn't decide to write a poem about life in the Afican bush because I have no fucking idea what it's like! You know?

And it's not details you've gotten wrong, the whole peice is just one factual error as the whole poem is blaming Thatcher for two specific things that she was not responsible for during a decade where when she was not PM. Details would be putting the 1st of July when it was actually the 1st of August.

And how anyone can now take your "and Thatcher was still a bitch" comment seriously (not that I'm presuming it was, I'm presuming it was just a throw away line) now after showing that amount of ignorance of what she did is also beyond me.

Anyway, at least some of it rhymed! :guitar:


EDIT: And you do not fucking love me, so please avoid that affectation when replying to my posts. Thank you.

Jesus Christ, sorry I caused such offense. That poem was written ages ago when yes, I had little idea what the fuck I was writing about. Like I say, I just wrote it.

Didn't mean to upset people with it.

I was just pissed off when I said 'Thatcher was a bitch' in my other post, so sorry for that.

[Practising Troublemaker]

And after all, isnt that all that counts?

I've not come across such awful poetry in a long time.

You said it once already, I get the message. If you don't like it so much why are you in the thread?

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

You wrote a poem about politics.

That would be clue.

;)

Stop trying to be a smart-arse, it doesn't suit you. Just because I wrote a poem about it AGES ago doens't mean I want to get dragged into some big debate about politics.

[Mr. Manchester]

Because you are polluting the board with this tripe. And it seems like everyone else, bar mspendl828, is to polite to tell you.

[Robert Neville]

This poetry sucks.

I dont agree

[Mr. Manchester]

Stop trying to be a smart-arse, it doesn't suit you. Just because I wrote a poem about it AGES ago doens't mean I want to get dragged into some big debate about politics.

well, you shouldnt have bloody posted it then!

[mspendl828]

Jesus Christ, sorry I caused such offense. That poem was written ages ago when yes, I had little idea what the fuck I was writing about. Like I say, I just wrote it.

Didn't mean to upset people with it.

I was just pissed off when I said 'Thatcher was a bitch' in my other post, so sorry for that.

You've not caused any offence at all to me. You made some big factual errors, I corrected you. In the same why I would if someone had written Boz Boorer had written I Know It's Gonna Happen Someday, or whatever. You're the who seems to be getting annoyed and being offended.

But if you're going to write about something, knowing something about it really does help, otherwise someone with a big nose who knows and all that. That's all.


Anyway, as for the rest of it, it really isn't that bad for a 17/18 of year old emo kid or whatever you are. And for me that's quite a compliment as I'm not especially generous with praise.

Certainly worth keeping up, lad. Just stick to what you know!

[Amy]

Because you are polluting the board with this tripe. And it seems like everyone else, bar mspendl828, is to polite to tell you.

If you are that bothered, put the thread on 'Ignore' and go do something constructive with your time.

[mspendl828]

Because you are polluting the board with this tripe. And it seems like everyone else, bar mspendl828, is to polite to tell you.

That's actually not really what I'm doing. I'm correcting factual errors, Mr M. That's all.

[Uncle Liam]

Most of this isnt even poetry. it just seems to be a random collection of words that occasionally rhyme put together.

[Uncle Liam]

I dont agree

I'm with Mr. manchester on this one.

[Robert Neville]

I'm with Mr. manchester on this one.

well then, I dont agree with you either

[Uncle Liam]

First of all, why are you
By the way. I've got two degrees in politics. So dont try and outstmart me or I will humilate you.

Bloody Hell Mr. M! So have I? Where did you get yours from? I got mine from Queens in belfast in 04, and Manchester (proper) in 05.

[Practising Troublemaker]

You've not caused any offence at all to me. You made some big factual errors, I corrected you. In the same why I would if someone had written Boz Boorer had written I Know It's Gonna Happen Someday, or whatever. You're the who seems to be getting annoyed and being offended.

But if you're going to write about something, knowing something about it really does help, otherwise someone with a big nose who knows and all that. That's all.


Anyway, as for the rest of it, it really isn't that bad for a 17/18 of year old emo kid or whatever you are. And for me that's quite a compliment as I'm not especially generous with praise.

Certainly worth keeping up, lad. Just stick to what you know!

Ok, thanks I hope we can drop it know between me and you.

Sorry again.

[Kewpie]

I'm with Mr. manchester on this one.


LOL!!!!!!!!

You're talkin' to yourself, idiot. :D

[girlunafraid]

Thatcher was a fuck-nugget though, I lived through the pain of the thatcher years (I'll show you the scars if you like?).
If you don't like PT's poetry then there's a piss easy solution don't read it, or if you think you can post something better then take a turn! I'll be happy to be your critic!

love

Grim

[Practising Troublemaker]

This is my new one, called Mr. Manchester :D

Little cunt and his bullying ways,
Killing me for my mistakes,
Over poetry written long ago,
About a subject I did not know,
But still he spends time going through,
Saying, ‘this is shite’ or ‘this ain’t the truth’,
And I don’t have the time,
But he thinks I do,
So I say fuck off,
Waving two fingers at you.

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

it just seems to be a random collection of words that occasionally rhyme put together.

That is what all poetry pretty much is.

Love PTxx.

[Kewpie]

This is my new one, called Mr. Manchester :D

Little cunt and his bullying ways,
Killing me for my mistakes,
Over poetry written long ago,
About a subject I did not know,
But still he spends time going through,
Saying, ‘this is shite’ or ‘this ain’t the truth’,
And I don’t have the time,
But he thinks I do,
So I say fuck off,
Waving two fingers at you.

Love PTxx.



Well done!! :D

[Uncle Liam]

My family did very well out of the Thatcher years.

And a lot of British People thought she did a good job as well. because otherwise, why did she keep getting elected?

[Uncle Liam]

This is my new one, called Mr. Manchester :D

Little cunt and his bullying ways,
Killing me for my mistakes,
Over poetry written long ago,
About a subject I did not know,
But still he spends time going through,
Saying, ‘this is shite’ or ‘this ain’t the truth’,
And I don’t have the time,
But he thinks I do,
So I say fuck off,
Waving two fingers at you.

Love PTxx.

Well, thats all very well and good isnt it. But despite your protests, you obviously do have the time, as you've just written (another) rather shoddy piece of poetry about him.

I think Mr. M has it right about you. Sad Cunt.

[Mr. Manchester]

This is my new one, called Mr. Manchester :D

Little cunt and his bullying ways,
Killing me for my mistakes,
Over poetry written long ago,
About a subject I did not know,
But still he spends time going through,
Saying, ‘this is shite’ or ‘this ain’t the truth’,
And I don’t have the time,
But he thinks I do,
So I say fuck off,
Waving two fingers at you.

Love PTxx.

Thank you for the acknowledgment. Nice to see someone thinks i'm worth the effort. ;)

[Amy]

My family did very well out of the Thatcher years.


Which says everything. If they hadn't, if they had been left unemployed, living on the bread line, would you be such a staunch supporter of her now? Of course not. People will follow the Party that best serves their needs, and such is the hypocrisy of politics.

[girlunafraid]

My family did very well out of the Thatcher years.

And a lot of British People thought she did a good job as well. because otherwise, why did she keep getting elected?

Oh so let me take a wild stab in the dark, you don't come from a family of miners, am I right?

I do hope all their shares are worthless now! :D

love

Grim

[Practising Troublemaker]

Well, thats all very well and good isnt it. But despite your protests, you obviously do have the time, as you've just written (another) rather shoddy piece of poetry about him.

I think Mr. M has it right about you. Sad Cunt.

Ok, you are such a fool by the way. I do now know that you and Mr. Manchester are the same person. So basically you are just acting as though you have more support despite it actually being the same person. That is just an incredibly lame thing to do. Why not wait until you get some genuine support for your views, why do you have to pretend?

Sorry, but I am actually laughing about how childish you are.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Let me just take this moment to thank Grim, Kewpie, Amy and Robert Neville for not berating me and actually having open minds and realising I am not just being some cunt.

Love PTxx.

[Robert Neville]

Let me just take this moment to thank Grim, Kewpie, Amy and Robert Neville for not berating me and actually having open minds and realising I am not just being some cunt.

Love PTxx.

I dont think that you are the rude word here

[Uncle Liam]

ok, you are such a fool by the way. I do now know that you and mr. Manchester are the same person. .

lies~!

[Practising Troublemaker]

lies~!

Hmm, strange...3 people have told me otherwise.

[Uncle Liam]

Oh so let me take a wild stab in the dark, you don't come from a family of miners, am I right?

I do hope all their shares are worthless now! :D

love

Grim

Nope. Not from mining. Like the vast majority of the country. The country that the miners held to ransom despite not even having majority support in their own profession, never mind the country at large.

[Uncle Liam]

Here's a question for you, Practising Troublemaker:

If you think you're such a hated young thing, why di you insist on continually posting this drivel you call poetry?

[Kewpie]

Nope. Not from mining. Like the vast majority of the country. The country that the miners held to ransom despite not even having majority support in their own profession, never mind the country at large.


Stop pretending.
If you don't stop being an arse you'll be sorry.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Here's a question for you, Practising Troublemaker:

If you think you're such a hated young thing, why di you insist on continually posting this drivel you call poetry?

You don't even know what the meaning behind hated young thing is so don;t bring that in.

As I have just told you Uncle Liam, I am leaving this argument.

[mspendl828]

Oh so let me take a wild stab in the dark, you don't come from a family of miners, am I right?

I do hope all their shares are worthless now! :D

love

Grim

Grim, you know I think of you as being a fine, upstanding gentleman an' all, but in 1984 there were 196,000 miners in a country of 57,000,000 people.

You can't run a country for the benefit of the 196,000 miners and their families when you've the other 50-odd million people...

Anyway, I now resign from this thread, and apologise for the damage I've done.

[girlunafraid]

Nope. Not from mining. Like the vast majority of the country. The country that the miners held to ransom despite not even having majority support in their own profession, never mind the country at large.

I wish you'd have studied politics then you would have understood my comment, pity eh? Shame it's too late to offer you a free lesson now, maybe over a pint I'll allow you to ask questions about the Poll Tax, thatcher bribed the rest of the strongest working class to be able to take on the miners but power went to her head & we brought her down anyway!

love

Grim
P.s. when I say a free lesson, you will have to pay for the beers, you know ther's no such thing as a free lunch (albeit a liquid one)...

[Uncle Liam]

Stop pretending.
If you don't stop being an arse you'll be sorry.

Pretending what?

And I'll be sorry?

I havent been this scared since i watched the Scooby Doo the other week.

[Mr. Manchester]

Pretending what?

And I'll be sorry?

I havent been this scared since i watched the Scooby Doo the other week.

What episode of Scobby Doo was it Unc?

anyway, I have this to say for the people who think that me and Uncle Liam are the same person:

I have had the privilege of meeting Uncle Liam on more than one occasion, and he is an extremely jovial and popular chap. Just because we have very similar viewpoints on certain issues, similar qualifications, similar interests and similar IP addresses, does not mean we are the same person. So can we please stop with these insulting suggestions.

Thank you.

[Kewpie]

Pretending what?

And I'll be sorry?

I havent been this scared since i watched the Scooby Doo the other week.


Peter and I asked you to stop supporting a banned member on the forums.
However, you didn't stop and got an infraction.
Next you created another account Mr Manchester for repeating the same activities.
Enough is enough.

[girlunafraid]

Grim, you know I think of you as being a fine, upstanding gentleman an' all, but in 1984 there were 196,000 miners in a country of 57,000,000 people.

You can't run a country for the benefit of the 196,000 miners and their families when you've the other 50-odd million people...

Anyway, I now resign from this thread, and apologise for the damage I've done.

Mike (despite your politics) I love you too, I think you'll see I've not (intentionally) replied to anything you've said in this thread, I agree that PT has used poetic licence in the time facts but that said I would have been just as happy reading Callaghan for Thatcher, or 80's rather than 70's in his poem!

I know I called out about thatch after Mr. M & Unc L said the same things, but I really did play a part in thatchers downfall, so I feel I've got real history & not something out of a book, written by some interlectual who viewed things from above/outside!

love

Grim

[Mr. Manchester]

Peter and I asked you to stop supporting a banned member on the forums.
However, you didn't stop and got an infraction.
Next you created another account Mr Manchester for repeating the same activities.
Enough is enough.

What do i have to do with anything?

[Uncle Liam]

Peter and I asked you to stop supporting a banned member on the forums.
However, you didn't stop and got an infraction.
Next you created another account Mr Manchester for repeating the same activities.
Enough is enough.

Soooooooo....

Because of my (ongoing) support for PAUL, which has not been expressed on the board in a long time, it is no longer permissable to post my opinion on someones lame arse poetry?

Wise up.

[Kewpie]

Soooooooo....

Because of my (ongoing) support for PAUL, which has not been expressed on the board in a long time, it is no longer permissable to post my opinion on someones lame arse poetry?

Wise up.


Carry on baiting, twit.

I'm going to bed.

[Uncle Liam]

Carry on baiting, twit.

I'm going to bed.

Good Night!





Am I to presume thats a conceding of your rather weak argument?

[girlunafraid]

Well I'm all out of crackers (despite some being displayed here), so this debate will have to be upstanding without me (for now)!

Goodnight all

love

Grim
P.s. PT I think we've managed to gain enough material tonight between us all to fuel a few more poems eh? ;)

[girlunafraid]

P.p.s. Although we appear to be going to bed together, I am not Kewpie

love

Grim

[Practising Troublemaker]

P.s. PT I think we've managed to gain enough material tonight between us all to fuel a few more poems eh? ;)

Indeed we have, I'll have to get my head together tomorrow and write something. Although it shall probably spark more debate, but that can't be helped. Grim, thanks for being one of the good/ sane guys pal.

Love PTxx.


P.p.s. Although we appear to be going to bed together, I am not Kewpie

love

Grim

Haha :D

Good night mate.

Love PT (also off to bed, but I am not Grim or Kewpie) xx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Anyways back we to the poetry side of this thread.

Yes, yes, another about love but I find it easy to write about and it can give of emotions. Hope you enjoy...

Moments
Softly, slowly, you plucked on my heart strings,
Taunting me, twisting me and trying to drag me in,
Before your eyes my life fell flat,
Broken, a void,
Like some incomplete jigsaw of childhood days,
Words you whispered with a kind smile bring,
More than poetry, which means nothing,
I hold out my hand to you,
Across the water, we both felt we knew,
You took it with care, a risk and a task,
We somehow felt this moment was to last,
Beyond the clicking tick tock clock,
Past the days of sunset and rise,
A clockwork orange suspended in the sky,
It would linger along through centuries young,
It would challenge the wars and remain so strong,
Amidst laughter and tears,
We still held the peace,
In our hearts eternally,
This moment set us free.

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

I just watched 'My Zinc Bed' and it inspired me...

Murder Wears A Mask

Empty glass stands clean on the shelf,
I went straight for the bottle,
Lips clasped the rim,
As I drank to forget everything,
No notes in the door to say when you were expected back,
And the answer machine was silent,
As the display board hung blank,
I heard the laughter in the background,
Surely it was about anything but me,
However, I felt I was the joke,
For once, possibly,
More torture than a man can consume,
It began to hurt to even look at you,
An inevitable car crash,
With me behind the wheel,
The liquor was flowing,
But meetings could not cure me,
I felt that at a time only you could,
But with no love for my soul,
You left me nowhere to go,
One more drink,
I think,
Then pull the plug on everyone and everything,
And the debate inside of me argued how?
Shooting up way over the limit?
Blocking my airwaves with medication on prescription?
Or to hang like the pathetic cunt I am?

The moon shone high,
Then the ivory doorbell rang,
You had returned,
From an important after show,
My terrible thoughts you would not know

I let you in

I use to fly

I offered you a drink

I use to dance

I slept in the bed with you

My terrible thoughts which you never knew,
For drink torments you,
Drink haunts you,
Drink poisons you,
An then it fucking kills you

The masked murderer of seduction,
You never know when it shall arrive,
So you kept sipping away,
Smiling beautifully,
But when it arrives,
When it is ‘that day’,
God, it hits you like a fucking bullet train,
And you contemplate everything and all the pain,
Inflicted upon yourself, and your loved ones,
Those to who you promised,
‘One more and then never again’,
You fake and you joke,
You lie to yourself

AA will not stop me,
I have gone,
Far beyond,
The point of return,
I reach for the vodka bottle,
With guilt which rips me apart,
Once again,
Oh Lord, I’ll never learn

Love PTxx

[Reelaround]

This is the best thread I ever read for different reasons

Cue Kewpie :rolleyes:

[Practising Troublemaker]

A Boy Called Despair

Grey clouds are watching from above,
A lone figure stands beside some lost love,
Picturing their face from two years before,
Lost to oblivion, now beneath the floor

Rain hammers down,
Smashing, splattering, streaming on the cold ground,
Floods in the eyes of the boy called Despair,
As he cries for the girl who is no longer there

You helped me along, guided me in step,
Did your best when I fell,
But now you have to rest,
Time will tell if I shall see you again,
Amidst the clouds and within the rain

And I stand and record every move, every thought,
Of the moment that the dreaded end brought,
A thousand laughs and a million lies,
Burnt to ash, rise to the skies

Her flowing hair now trampled and cold,
Her beating heart crushed with her bones,
Her smile that nobody else knows,
Her time of life must come and go

So as I stand, umbrella in hand,
Watching the scene which was always unplanned,
Tears spill from my eyes,
This boy still loves after she died,
And I take a step back,
My legs falling down,
Resting on the bench near the merry go round,
And cast my head up the skies,
Questioning how and wondering why,
Nobody shall love me even when I die?
I made no friends but I didn’t even try,
So with reluctance I begin to rise,
And turn to look once more over there,
To the boy who I shall name, Despair.

Love PTxx.

[the beast]

poetry? "real men" don't do poetry:confused:

[Practising Troublemaker]

poetry? "real men" don't do poetry:confused:

Grr, I am no real man...I am beyond 'real'...I am INCREDIBLE!

"real men" don't support Liverpool!

Love PTxx.

[Practising Troublemaker]

Over the green hills comes an early sunrise,
The grass, bitten with frost dazzles in the light,
There is no darkness here,
There is no such thing as fear,
The train smokes into the station,
And my feet leave the platform edge,
Sat upon the velvet seat, gazing out to the snow strewn hedge

Poets have tried to capture this scene,
Words do not do it justice,
Only my eyes and the blissful serenity,
Can really draw tears and just what surrounds me

A lady over the way smiles,
A lady who smiles makes my day,
She is so charming all the while,
Yet I do not even know her name

Birds are singing so silently,
As if not to wake any company,
But who is there to disturb?
Who could possibly silence the birds?

The train pulls out from the station, leaving behind the platform bench,
And in the cold, crisp air I can see my breath,
And for once the whole world seems to rest,
And nobody can change the world or how I feel today,
And I smile once more at the lady over the way

Love PTxx.