Whoops | Tempest Brew

Lost and alone No one to turn to Homeless, on the Street An abundance of Friends, acquaintances Came and went Old haunts became Mere streets, Cities became blurred Lost in a haze Hostels became one Unloved, always seen, Yet never looked Upon. The post Imagine Being Me | Chris Byrne appeared first on Best Poetry….

The ants are back. The dove is gone. I hear you clearing your throat. This means everything is doomed. I am doomed. These things prove it. I hear a baby bird chirping to be fed. I smile. This means that everything is okay. I remind myself that I am not doomed. That I can change…

1) Bug juice is a) an experiment conducted by the nature counselor b) insect repellent for canoe trips c) the fruit drink that is served at meals d) none of the above 2) The song beginning “Great big gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts”  has all these words except a) “mutilated monkey meat” b) “chopped-up…

This poem was written for a collection I did 2010/11 with poems written inspired by groups and singers I love as if they’d written the poem or lyrics. Remembered this poem because of Andy Rourke’s passing this weekend, fact he was only 59 like me, and the photo was taken in a cemetery in honour…

Within the explosive outer is faith of the modern day latter who came later into the world of an ornate technology, bomb crater, and now is mad as a hatter there are times when these hills are piquant, still born even till crusty dawn, at least the crashes and dashes which work out, in outer…

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