Tag: free verse

N wen u get ur kids took away

N wen u get ur kids took away from u
u have no mates no bloke family hate u n
keep u from urban kids so u take drugs I
rant allowed my toddlers till I’ve had two yrs of
therapy c.b.t. no point comin off drugs yet
is there n now social services problem
my mamy two and my dad have even stopped
contact I’ve seen them twice in six week
once was Xmas day the other
was for a photo shoot I got done with the
picture for my Xmas present so I had to
c them for the photo I’m not allowed normally
all I ever wanted was to be a mamy ex fucked it
n now I’m just in too Much pain everyday
I c the photo I cry I’m a mess everyone
hates me anyway the public would
Deffo be glad meby ten people would
go to my funeral the rest of the town
would be glad coz I have done
lots of bad stuff but I’m 29 now
Give me a chance for god’s sake

Comment from an online suicide blog. By Grace Andreacchi.

London Scarves

I began to notice scarves.
Chaps with scarves
particularly.

There’s the bohemian scarf
worn by elegant chaps
in the environs around Buckingham Palace
and among thespians,
a rather loose-tied scarf
loping down from the neck,
showing an elegant
carelessness.

There’s the university flick,
which has one leg dangling
down the front
and a single wind
around the throat
and the other leg dangling
down the back – a little bit
Dr Who
and a little bit juvenile lead.

There’s the good boy scarf,
neatly folded in front
and tucked in tight to protect
the throat and the chest,
no doubt with a Vicks rub
underneath.

There’s the scarf which is wound
round and round
the throat, the throttling scarf,
or I don’t care if anybody knows
I’m wearing a scarf but I really need to
keep warm.

Then there’s that funny Italian double loop
which arrived a couple of years ago,
where you shove both ends
through the loop
and bring it round your throat
and flash it off
in rather an unnecessarily
vain way,
although, it has to be confessed
(I’m afraid I’ve tried it once or twice),
is very warm.

From the BBC Radio 4 In Our Time newsletter from Melvyn Bragg, emailed 31 January 2013. By Lesley Ingram.

Handling Queens

Remember:
the queen is the main-
spring of the hive.

She is a very delicate
piece of mechanism.

(It is very risky
to bend
her or to
bounce
her.)

Some folk seem to think
queen bees are like
opportunities
and nettles and ferrets–
to be grasped with a heavy hand.

A queen is as fragile
as a wren’s egg.

From H. J. Wadey, The Bee Craftsman: A short guide to the life-story and management of the honey bee (A. G. Smith, 1947), p 47. By Rebecca Resinski.

The Shooter

“We do this every night.
We go to a house,
we fuck with some people,
and we leave.”

He’s got a gun within reach.
He’s a threat … in that second
I shot him, two times in the forehead.

Bap! Bap!

The second time as he’s going down.
He crumpled to the floor in front of his bed
and I hit him again.

Bap!

Same place … he was dead. Not moving.
His tongue was out. I watched him take
his last breaths, just a reflex.

And I remember as I watched him
breathe out the last part of air, I thought:
is this the best thing I’ve ever done, or the worst?

From ‘I killed him’: US Navy Seal who fired the shot that killed Osama bin Laden breaks his silence.

Counting on Him

He’s thirty-three, for Chrissake,
thirty three. Thirty fucking three.
Three, three. This year
he turns thirty-four.
And he’s still expecting me
to sort his life out. What have I done
to get to deal with all his shit?
Some times he forgets
I’m still twenty-one.

Overheard outside the Southbank Centre, London, on 2 February 2013. By Judi Sutherland.

Last Act

They came to stay
For days and days
To support me, be with me
At this sad time.

Drove me to the store
Then waited outside
At a respectful distance
From the cash register

They went to the cinema
Made me a sandwich
Giving me space
To be alone

They want to be sure
Everything is organised
To take some of the strain
Like finding the Will.

I have it.
I’m in it.
They’re not.

A conversation with an elderly bereaved relative, 18 January 2013. By Yanto Cramer.

Sorry to hear about Bubbles

Charlotte commented on your photo
hope you’re ok?
r u not by a computer?
I know you must be feeling bloody sad
u r doin the rite thing 4 her
not to let her suffer
I will try and cheer u up
when i next pass that way
you gave her a lovely life
huggs will comfort u thru the night
her body will slip away quietly
plz stay warm in your water bourne nest
happens to us all
goodnight x x x
Reply with your comment or “like”.

From the last 22 messages in my phone’s inbox. By Winston Plowes.