Scribble By Heather Cairns

These days it is not enough to cross or strike the wrong number away No. The pen must dig and scratch like the mark of a ski on a slope Making dents and lumps deep enough to see Underneath the mistake stares and drapes itself in tinsel and matches It dances twice and says your very own name If Jenny wouldn't see through the hole in the wall you would dig your heels into the fucking page and rip, kick, scratch the extra five away

Copyright © Heather Cairns 2008

Comments System Prototype Version 1.0 by Mo

Poetry - The Coward By Laurenceaux

The coward couldn't tell the truth the coward could only lie. The coward deceived and tricked, the coward    Read more...

Poetry - Sell-Up or Sell-Out? By Andrew Wastling .

	Gonna sell my TV My CDs And my fridge. Gonna move into a tepee With the hippies Livin' High Up on the ridge. Read more...

Poetry - I Want To Get A Celebrity Pregnant By Joe Hakim

Make my move when they're looking dog rough, my own life is just too tough, I'm just not earning enough so I need to get a celebrity up the duff. I want to get a celebrity pregnant. I need a passport to another life,    Read more...

Poetry - Job Satisfaction By Laurenceaux

Sitting in the box called work a screen flickers as if unsure of its mode and I observe discompassionatly. We talk in jumbled mnemonics and jargonese, but not a word is spoken.    Read more...

Poetry - Crime Scene By Mike Watts
	I'm sinking my cold Bare flesh into the hot shock Of clear, steaming water, And as I hit the enamel A sudden burst of yellow Mushroom's out From between my legs: Read more...

Poetry - Message for the Lady in the Red Hat By Andrea Longstaff

	When I drink whisky my mind starts to melt I've been thinking about the hand I've been dealt Everyone lies if you look in their eyes And life doesn't begin at forty She was naked apart from the clothes that she wore Nothing makes sense to me any more Read more...

Poetry - After I was widowed By Manuro

	Parking permits make me cluck Barking hermits fake me duck Larking termites rake me muck Refer to Eric by his surname Defer to Derek, my he's urbane Prepared a Dalek not a turbine Read more...

Poetry - Are You Me? By Laurenceaux

Are You Me? Raft alone at sea are you me? Do you nurture souls or are you empty. Do you offer hope or failure are you bright for all to see,    Read more...

Poetry - Not Quite So White By Amanda Lowe

	Snow-White, her pretty name was tinged with a mocking tone of irony For men would frolic in her minge, she pulled them like a siren, she Had the kennel boy do her doggy fashion, the groom shagged in the stable And the cook she fucked with a spicy passion, on the banqueting table. Read more...

Poetry - Fanny By Mike Watts
	Fused, inside her fossil head, Battling to unravel The way she's faced, A rare Victorian, Whose busy family Just can't be arsed. Read more...

Poetry - Word Perfect By Carol Coiffait

Inside the yurt Close to the hearth Besides piles of dried dung Surrounded by family By the light of a butter lamp Grandfather is reading aloud. Grandmother is knitting    Read more...

Poetry - Beginning & End By Jazminn

	Muddle of dark feathers Worn in the ground Drip, drip The artificial rain An endless search Panic, sorrow and sleep Read more...

Poetry - Cup of Tea? By Kev Marshall

	I was walking through town the other day When a beggar stepped out in my way All right mate can ya spare 50p I just stared back saying no sorry But all I want is a cup of tea? As I walked off it dawned on me You see he was a good lad at our school Read more...

Poetry - Talking to Mirrors By Mike Watts
	I'm knocking it on the head I've had enough I'm getting tough The destructive voices that I dread Are daring me to keep going, But it's all wrong Read more...

Poetry - Robert Mugabe (to the tune of Eleanor Rigby) By Carol Coiffait

Oh, look at all the hungry people... Twentyeight years Robert Mugabe, your country is lean You live in a dream You wait behind doors Wearing a face we have all seen before Who is it for?    Read more...

Poetry - The Tigers (after William Blake's - The Tyger) By Bryan Berue

Tigers, Tigers, burning bright Played Wolves to rest by day 'n' night, What mere Owl or Tractor Boy Could tame thy football poetry? In what Deepdale, Sky Blue skies Burned the fire in thine eyes?   Read more...

Poetry - 6/4/08 By Joe Hakim

There's a canal with a broken tree on the bank beneath me. I feel blank. Just beyond that Manchester stretches out like a lazy cat    Read more...

Poetry - Motherhood Clearly Suits Her By Manuro

	Organic sludge - it's funny when I speak In English. £25 surgery - I took some time off To lead Discernable eye-bags - this time around I'm Dramatically pushing I drive myself to work Read more...

Poetry - To Let By Joe Hakim

I've never really had a home just a series of rooms I've stayed in, rooms in which thoughts have played in rooms in which dreams have decayed in rooms where the hours have passed rooms where the spells have been cast    Read more...

Poetry - November By Paul Kenneth Lazenby .

	Sticking bitterly close to the ground Like the private darkroom with no lights to be found. Skies are grey, trees are still, Though an answer is to be found from beginning to the end It's an inclusion to blend. Read more...

Poetry - It is a World By Cassandra Dalton .

	It is a world of production, the ebb and the flow, The air that is in us has nowhere to go. A world of collection, to get and get more, A world of invention, ideas to explore. The mass of the countries, that hold all our lives, The spoon that we eat with, the kill with sharp knives Read more...

Poetry - On Eternal Patrol By Del Abe Jones.

	The Klaxon sounds and they scramble They close the hatches, take their station As they hear the order, "Dive, dive, dive!" And do! Down into the cold dark, ocean. The bow planes turning downward Aiming the Boat into the deep Read more...

Poetry - What If? By Mike Watts
	What if I take a downward slide, Would people say 'at least you tried'? What if success becomes my story, Would anyone begrudge the glory? What if the truth's a hammer blow, Would it be better to never know? What if I get sick of saying sorry, Read more...

Poetry - The Hardest Clock By Manuro

	'Melk-banto-stepple ...' Goes the badger prince Bumpkin eerily rounded. 'Kid-Nadir' runs on AT THE LONDON PALLADIUM Coarsely-cravatted crab vats air Mountains, wallpaper, fountains Read more...