Sunday, January 16, 2005

Street Seen Poetry



In association with www.belfastpoets.com for the best in local poetry and events.
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Street Scene

Propped up in shop fronts the
bag people come to pray. Urban
scarecrows, oh, how they long to fly!
Tender a golden guinea your

purchase a guilt free trip.
While in the darkness tears
no one can see just stains on
a sleeping bag an affront to

sensitivities. Small sobs for
a nightingale silent as dawn
comes to play small tears
in a pocket
Hush!
you can blow them away.
Look for promises
to be broken.
Yes!
Harsh is the light of day.
Small tears can be dewdrops,
diamonds or a cool sea
spray. Think as you pass

these strangers just who
and what do they cry for?
And how many small tears
will form your tomorrow?

Sleep tight little boy blue.
David Smylie


Pre ATM Tension

It was a road kill sort of day.
The sun was shining on me
But not the gods.
Stopped for some goodies,
Lollypops and such like.
Needed money,
Nothing left in my stash.
Church bells are ringing.
Alarms for me to heed.
ATM not working!
Me wait in queue
For man to fix machine.
After a while my turn.
But!
Machine not take my card.
Me wipe card on sleeve.
Me try again.
But!
Bastard machine not take my card.
Me take card to man who owns shop.
He says, try cleaning card again.
Again!
Me wait in queue for my turn.
Me lick card and dry with tissue.
Still!
Machine not take my card.
Me angry!
Me want to ring bank and tell them to stuff their card.
Man who own shop ask if I have another card?
Me say yes!
Me show man other card.
Man say, no good machine not take that card.
Me wonder where to get money.
No queue.
Me lick card.
Me wipe card.
Me dry card.
Still!
Machine not take my card.
Me really f****** angry with bank, machine and card.
Me put money in bank so we have money for lollypops and things on our holidays.
Me try one last time.
Machine ask for pin number.
Machine gives me money.
Me buy lollypops.
Three days later no money.
Please God.

David Smylie

Needs a letter

I have seen you pass me
Like a bird in solitary flight
Across the Atlantic green
Not pausing
Until you have found your nest.

I have crossed your road
Stepping in tune with the morning sun
And have only found
The black of your hearth
Waiting to shun me away.

You could have caught
The next home star coming
To bring your heart
Back to the light
Or you could have walked away.

But instead, you chose to run.

Colin Dardis

Digestive Wrongs


Hungry at my desk again
I think I know
How the starving artist feels
When he cannot find
The food that he wants.

I wanted to eat a rainbow
And have that crock of gold
Rest at my ass.
I wanted to gorge on the moonbeams
Of every Friday night
That my co-workers
Felt relief on
And revel in the first sip of liquor
Rattling the teeth
With semi-precious squares of ices
Cooling the warm, warm
Poison of deliciousness.
I wanted to bite into
Every slice of toast
That my lovers had made me
The next morning
And feel the fresh margarine spread
Melt slowly over the granules
Of my tongue.
I even wanted to lick the envelopes
Of every letter I have ever sent
And see if their gum
Could satisfy the thirst within.

But all I ever really wanted
Was a place where
Home wasn’t just
A four-letter word on a lease
And I could still be free
Within myself.

I did not want to taste
The four walls of
Another person’s torture garden.

I wanted love, comfort,
Peace and security
To brick me in
Along with intelligence,
Morality, integrity and dignity
To challenge what serenity of the soul
I deluded myself with
In my laziness.

I’m still looking
For my way through the cafeteria.


Colin Dardis

The weight of the World is Light
The January wind
Has already blown
The twigs off my fingers
Heavy tree roots
Frail and failing,
Flailing pages and people
With the weight of insomnia.

I have given up my bed
And the body I sleep with.
Now I worry
About arthritis
Hitting my limbs
With the weight of the world
But I breathe in
And listen to the oxygen
Then remember
That the weight of the world
Is light.

Colin Dardis

A Geographical Reality

I saw a piece
Of rain-soaked paper
That said BEAST on it.
A step closer
Revealed it to say
BELFAST

Colin Dardis


Cries Of The Homeless

Our pleas have gone unnoticed.
Our voices are unknown.
We roam the alley's and your streets,
While searching for a home.

Our mouths do not know the taste
Of food that's off a plate.
We depend on scraps from others,
After they have ate.

While money's spent to fight our wars
And build military might,
We, the homeless, struggle on ~
With rags to warm the night.

Our brothers and our sisters
Walk by and only stare,
No kindness offered from their hearts.
The compassion is not there.

Saddened and discouraged,
From disgusted looks we receive,
We see the children laugh and point
At what they do perceive.

They are made believe that we are dirt
And have brought about our woes.
How very wrong for you to think.
How little that you know.

We are part of society, too.
But, we pay the ultimate price
Of having lonely roads to walk,
While governments roll their dice.

Politicians will not face us
Or look us in the eye.
They seem to think we don't exist
And the problem soon will die.

Know the country is turning it's back
And ignoring human rights
While we, the homeless, try to survive;
So weak we cannot fight.

Priorities appear to get mixed up
When juggled by a few.
Politicians who long for nothing,
They're so shiny and brand new.

The art museum must be given a grant
To continue its marvelous work.
The elite would not know what to do,
To satisfy their quirk.

Let's not forget the pilot study.
Should we build a road through there?
Spend that money foolishly.
Governments simply don't care.

And, don't forget to toss more money
To renovate some old house;
The importance of who lived there, once,
And the interest it would arouse.

These are a few of our misspent dollars,
Being laid and put to rest.
Sadly enough, these politicians
All think it's for the best.

The words that I am trying to say
Are meant to open some eyes.
When governments say they're doing their best,
That's nothing but a lie!

So take a look around you,
At where these grants should go.
Take the homeless off cold streets.
Let's warm their hearts and soul.


Valentyne Lang









2 Comments:

Blogger Col said...

Wow Jon this is excellent! And to think, I only sent you those poems yesterday. I'll add a link onto my new site once its updated. Thanks very much, sir!

Keep her lit,

Col.

8:03 PM  
Blogger Christian said...

Really great blog! I noticed a mention about foot arthritis . I thought you might be interested to hear that both my parents and several of their friends have had problems with arthritis and we have been very lucky to have come across Bioflow. They are sold at foot arthritis and they have been worth every penny. They don't seem to work for everyone but they have helped reduce the pain in my parents arthritis so that they almost don't notice it any longer. They'd still be taking painkillers if it wasn't for wearing a Bioflow on their wrist

12:32 PM  

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