homeless poetry

Fool me (julie)

2010-02-26T03:19:00.001-08:00

Do you fancy chess
Or maybe pool.
I'll play your game
But I'm no fool
And if you fancy
A quick head game
I'll play with language
And I'll leave you lame.
I'll break your mind
And I'll drop you dead
If you try to climb
Inside my head.
I'm a big boy now
And I'll kick your arse
If you dare to play
Out of your class.
I don't mess about
With silly girls
Despite the shit
My EX-wife hurls.
D'ya wanna play?
D'ya wanna play with me?
I'll win this game
Stick about and see.
I'm gonna leave
This game on top
So cut the crap
You better stop!

Urban Decay

2009-11-12T10:39:00.000-08:00

Oh how I long to see
some beauty in this city.
See sunlight stencil patterns
through girders in the sky.
Streets with no reported crime
whilst a racist cop walks by.
Sit in calm green spaces
of the mugger's roundabouts.
Meditate the joys of life
though thought's drowned out by shouts.
Fine churches and cathedrals
to make up for their sins.
Food enough for everyone
piled up in the bins.
Everybody smiles at you
in case you might be mad.
The milk of human kindness
destined to go bad.
The friendly hand that greets
as the other holds you down.
The folks who'll always be here
'cos they can't escape this town.
See the bigger picture
through tired and jaded eyes.
Supporting what you know and love
by tricks and compromise.

Manic Martin (transcribed November 2009)
Manchester and beyond

"The song on my lips" by Nathan

2009-05-21T09:25:00.000-07:00

you are the song on my lips,
the beat of my heart,
the birds that sing in the trees,
the sun on my skin,

the place where i finish
yet also begin
you are an angel
and i hear you sing

let me take you on a journey,
through the moon lit forests.
lets run together, like windswept leaves
through deserted city streets,

unbeknownst to sleeping minds of men,
let us bathe in the darkness of the night

Strong conversations upward

2009-03-26T04:36:00.000-07:00

Strong conversations upward

like blood sugar

going berserk.

Bandana’d airmen stood on the airfield

drinking sake

I feel susceptible

in my blue coat

losing face

and then later, a place

when my friend

recovered from meningitis

in the same house

Not wishing to risk a tenth

on the dropped kerb, the click-finger synchronicity

with a journalist

amazingly led to nothin

(c) Richard Fletcher

What Does it Profit a Man

2009-02-05T04:02:00.000-08:00

To gain the Whole World
But lose his soil?

. . . Rev Si

Picture 1

2008-12-11T09:15:00.000-08:00

I saw a picture of a body that had thornes in it.
I saw Jesus taking out the thornes and running his hands over
the wounds.
They were closing up and healing.
This is a picture of what God wants to do with us this week.

Picture 3 - The Candle and the wick
I saw a picture of a candle with a smoldered wick.
Then I saw a lit taper.
It lights the candle and it bursts into flame.

I see the candle, with the words "Holy Spirit" written on it.
On the candle is written the words "Us, me, people".
This is a picture of what god wants to do for us.
Light the flame of the Holy spirit in us.

Picture 4 - The trees and flowers
I see a picture of a dark wood.
The wood seems totally dead, just like winter.
In the distance I see Jesus walking through the wood.
As Jesus walks through the wood,
trees burst into life, their is colour everywhere.
There are trees that have every kind of coloured leaves and needles.
This is a picture of what Jesus wants to do in our lives.
Jesus wants to bring colour into our lives.

The workers hate the upperclass

2008-12-11T09:14:00.000-08:00

The workers hate the upperclass
The Upperclass the workers
But the ones who don't get off their arse
are hated most: the shirkers

nighttime river

2008-12-04T09:19:00.000-08:00

The night-time river delivers with a thud
Your boat into the bank of roots and mud
But you should be very grateful
Rejoice and don't be hateful
That it is only water flowing
and not blood

I See The Stars

2008-11-19T03:21:00.000-08:00

I see the stars
and my aching heart yearns
for its place amongst them.
The clouds only offer me
respite,
as they drift and veil
that which pains me so.
The rain drenches me
until finally sense prevails;
I seek shelter by the hearth
but no blanket can
cover my grief.
A fitful sleep
and with the sun rising,
another star
closer than the others
offers me temporary solace
as a mother offers
a babe her breast

Kemlyn

On shaving - a haiku

2008-11-05T03:51:00.000-08:00

The beard,
is nothing to be feared
it is not weird
it should be revered

Kemlyn

2007-10-21T19:19:00.000-07:00

7. "PCSOs by Manic Martin
6. "A Roddicking Good Time" by Manic Martin
5. "World War One Daffodils"
4. "Action" by Martin
3. "Blind Art" by Nigel
2. "Poetic Verse" by Nigel
1. "Britain is Best" by Anita

Poetry constributed by 'students' of Oxford's Homeless College

P.C.S.O.s by Manic Martin

2007-10-17T07:44:00.000-07:00

(Dedicated to all police community service officers.)

The pavements are pedalled past
By budget bobbies.
It’s summer now
And they wear T-shirts,
But as the days grow shorter
And their sleeves grow longer,
They still will not have any cuffs.

A Roddicking Good Time by Manic Martin

2007-10-17T07:36:00.001-07:00

It really was bitter-sweet sixteen
As I learned that day we’d lost a queen
A regal rebel in this money-mad age
Notions and potions, potent and sage
She did her best, as we all should
If money is power then hers looked good
Some vanity ain’t always sin
‘Cos she was beautiful within
I’m no royalist, but what the heck
At least she wrote JB that cheque

Manic & Taurus

2007-10-16T09:02:00.000-07:00

"World War One Daffodils" by Manic Martin

2007-09-20T10:35:00.000-07:00

(With apologies to Bill Wordsworth)

I wander’d lonely as a cloud
Of deadly choking chlorine gas
When all at once I saw a crowd
A host of dead, a dying mass.
Beside the tank, beneath the wire,
Faint gasps and cries rose from the mire.

Continuous as the blood that flows
From fatal wounds and open cuts
They stank a stench to twist your nose
Of rancid rents and rotting gut
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Rolling and crawling in deathly dance.

The gun beside them fired but they
Just stared from broken eyeless skulls
And if the firing died away
You might hear screaming in the lulls
I gazed and gazed and little thought
What misery one death had brought.

For oft, when in my trench I sit
In vacant or in pensive mood
I think of war, the whole of it
Of vice and hurt and tortures crude
And then my heart with sorrow fills
For men and guns and all their ills

Manic Martin

"Action" by Martin

2007-09-07T10:37:00.001-07:00

Peace is not passivity
Being at Peace with one’s self
Is not lying at rest

Part of the human race
Joining a mass march
Away from the crazed conflict

We are a Peace Movement
Standing up to be counted
By the military machine

We’re shifting opinion
By sitting in the road
Not being trampled underfoot

As we lay in wait
For the warmongers’ wagons
We didn’t sit on our arses
As we locked onto our target

Blind Art by Nigel

2007-06-06T04:15:00.000-07:00

Blind Art

As an artist viewing a blank canvass
I see not an empty page
Just poems still unwritten
Begging to be made.
With lyrical colour I paint a scene
Each a vocal work of art
And ‘though we’re a band of brothers
Our independence sets us apart.
The lyrics I see are my own
As is my choice to show you
Another may show a different scene
But each is painted true.
How we obtain inspiration
None of us can clearly say
Perhaps we just look at life
In a slightly different way.
So if you see a picture
But can’t identify the view
Don’t condemn it with slander
It just wasn’t meant for you!

Copyright © 2007 Nigel Savill

POETIC VERSE by Nigel

2007-06-06T02:51:00.000-07:00

The art of poetic verse
is to show the world you care
to reach out and touch the lonely
and show there's someone there,
To find a perfect beauty
and help the blind to see,
To create a peacefull environment
thats safe for you and me.
The art of poetic verse
is to touch a primal chord,
To educate the empty
so they can spread the word.
So if you have a message
you don't know how to tell,
Try the art of poetic verse
the lyrically enlightening spell!

Nigel Mattew, Daniel Savill
Copyright © 2007 Nigel Mattew, Daniel Savill

Britain is Best

2007-05-31T02:56:00.000-07:00

I remember what my dad once said
I'll be sorry to hear if he is dead
he said it as a piece of advice
and you couldn't really give it a price
I'm not really a patriot but
for some Britain is really the roots
I've seen the rest
Now I know Britain is best
I'm glad too
for some our country is their new home
from all over the world people see the Union Jack
some with a sense of pride
more with satisfaction deep inside
our nation can give you a good education
follow up a good relation
and spread innovation and civilisation
people come in from abroad
and Britain should never leave them bored
I know then they come and go and learn to say hello
As people are very friendly when they meet
people everywhere speak English when they greet
whether you're British or not
is something we've soon forgot
we'll say a big welcome
and you'll know you're coming home
some day you'll might be there to belong
I can sing so I'll sing this song
I've seen the rest
now I know Britain is Best.

Anita Carroll
visit her on Myspace at http://www.myspace.com/anitajcarroll

homeless poetry

Fool me (julie)

Urban Decay

"The song on my lips" by Nathan

Strong conversations upward

What Does it Profit a Man

Picture 1

The workers hate the upperclass

nighttime river

I See The Stars

On shaving - a haiku

Contents

P.C.S.O.s by Manic Martin

A Roddicking Good Time by Manic Martin

Manic & Taurus

"World War One Daffodils" by Manic Martin

"Action" by Martin

Blind Art by Nigel

POETIC VERSE by Nigel

Britain is Best