[Misc] NSC poetry corner

[The Clamp]

****
John Cooper Clarke

Like a nightclub in the morning, you're the bitter end
Like a recently disinfected shithouse, you're clean round the bend
You give me the horrors
Too bad to be true
All of my tomorrows
Are lousy 'cause of you
You put the Shat in Shatter
Put the Pain in Spain
Your germs are splattered about
Your face is just a stain
You're certainly no raver, commonly known as a drag
Do us all a favor, here, wear this polythene bag
You're like a dose of scabies
I've got you under my skin
You make life a fairytale
Grimm!
People mention murder, the moment you arrive
I'd consider killing you if I thought you were alive
You've got this slippery quality
It makes me think of phlegm
And a dual personality
I hate both of them
You're bad breath, vamps disease, destruction, and decay
Please, please, please, please, take yourself away
Like a death a birthday party
You ruin all the fun
Like a sucked and spat-our Smartie
You're no use to anyone
Like the shadow of the guillotine
On a dead consumptive's face
Speaking as an outsider
What do you think of the human race?
You went to a progressive psychiatrist
He recommended suicide
Before scratching your bad name off his list
And pointing the way outside
You hear laughter breaking through, it makes you want to fart
You're heading for a breakdown
Better pull yourself apart
Your dirty name gets passed about when something goes amiss
Your attitudes are platitudes
Just make me wanna piss
What kind of creature bore you
Was it some kind of bat?
They can't find a good word for you
But I can
****!

 

[Eeyore]

Cricket fans may identify with this one I wrote for my blog after a washout:




Let’s tell a tale of England fair,

Of willow, cork and leather,

Of journeys to the countryside,

Where old friends come together.



A day off work, a timely break,

Release from mundane task,

The hallowed turf, the whitewashed crease,

We’re there- no need to ask.



The cars arrive, the pitch prepared,

The changing rooms all-chatting,

The toss to come, decision’s tough,

Are we bowling ? Are we batting ?



Yet warbler’s tune, so soulfully played,

Does suddenly fall still,

As angry cloud and sharpening breeze,

Now shroud the nearby hill.



Once sky so bright, once hopes so high,

Another splendid game,

No ball will bowl, we’re going home,

It’s pissing down with rain….

 

[Kosh]

My house got burgled,
By some Chav from the nick,
Stole all my records,
Then burned them in a skip...

Tore out my soul,
1st presses and all,
He did it for a laugh
In the car park of the local Masonic hall.

It made the paper,
So black was the smoke,
Yet no prayers were said,
No one told the Pope…

My Mellow Gold,
Pay no mind - Alt version,
All melted, and brutally refined

High Tide, Gracious, Cressida,
quad Aqualung, Stormbringer too,
All put to the flame,
cast to hades…
Man, I feel so blue

Yet, you know, I can still hear the needle drop, If I listen hard …

When night wind rocks.

Etched in my soul.

 

[Kosh]

I’m not sure the soap, can wash me clean.
No matter the elbow grease, the window never gleams…

As I grow wearier the stars lose their light.

Or is it me… ? Yes, I’m losing my sight.

Weary as I may be, I still try to walk… hark, I hear voices, just beyond the fork… akin to Sparta, mighty beat and drum…

Yet shadows grow, and ever more enemies come…

My arms once strong, now falter and shake, where once I held firm I now relent and quake.

It is no mortal enemy I fear, more time and my fragility with the onset of the years.

I cannot hope to fight the enemy I cannot see, yet ‘tis one that enslaves all humanity…

The brutal tick, the damning tock… the passage of time I’m powerless to stop.