Monday, February 25, 2013

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Monday, February 18, 2013

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Saturday, February 09, 2013

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Sunday, November 01, 2009

Quicker by Fester Bryan

Low hills
Low hills
Easy walking on the low hills.
Running faster
Dodging the bracken.
Rubber shoes.

Low hills
Not mountain high,
Easy hills
Where the top is flat
Lying back looking a the sky

Monday, September 07, 2009

The Boat by Fester Bryan

Sail tipping left
Sea at my feet
Slapping slippery fish in my face
The captain says "There is Jimmy !"
And sure enough it is.

Jimmy in his one man boat
All day and sometimes all night
Smoking his pipe of shag
Listening to world service radio.

Head bent left
Thick socks
Chattering swearing spitting in my face
Jimmy says "Hi Bob, howya doin ?"
And the captain says "fine".

The granite grey swell
Sickly moves me
Chopping spraying salt in my face
I say "Take me home to the comfort of my living room"
But it takes several hours

Because of problems
And a lack of focus
on the part of the Captain
Who was tired
Because of a late night playing Poker
And he'd forgotten to take his supplements.

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Sunday, May 17, 2009

Markey Day by Fester Bryan

Oh market day in small town UK
With the bustle of apple sellers
Corn on the cob and hats of straw
Is this the market day
That you saw

Children at zebra crossings
With puzzled old folk
Daunted by the trucks
Of cheery tea drinking
Sausage men with their pals

Oh market day
Cheery and grey
Covered stalls of musty bric-a-brac
And Chutney that you feel you should buy
But Fridge memories
Bring you back from you reverie

Oh market day
Shutting up shop
And some head to the smoke free lounge
Of an English Pub
With the Fruit Machine chattering
Like a demented friend

One last sip of the hop brewed foam
Back to the suburban roundabout
With the white lines
Sculpted shrubs
And doormats


Sunday, January 18, 2009

The Grey Road by Fester Bryan

Winding along the green
In it's own special way
Heading for the Pastie shop
Or Post Office
Or Sainsburys
Is the Grey Road

On it we will march to a tune of the Pogues
Played on Ukelele
With a felt pick
And a haughty strut
Looking like we might fight
All Comers
But actually seeking a peaceful time
In perhaps a moderate sized town
With all the facilities
But less pollution than London


Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Love Large

Oh so
No No
Larger than life
In my Kimono
Love large
Big and bounce
Love large
Big and bounce

Oh So
No No
Oogah Utanga
Near wife swap TV
Charme existence
Saved by the bells
Big and Bounce
Love large

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Bijou Baby

Bijou baby
All blonde and ready for the start
Of a brand new day
What a way to start the day
All togged up in your finery.

What will you do
Will you walk down the busy avenue
With all the guys taking a double look
Or will you sit in a pavement cafe
Reading your book
With you sunglasses on

Bijou Baby
Are you going to see a film tonight
With a man in tweed
Who buys you drinks and food
You lucky girl

Or is the world a difficult place
Where things go wrong
And bump, bump, bump, in the night
Where your face screws up ina scream
At the slightest thing
And syndromes and allergies persist
Beyond their rightful due

Or are you in the third way
Middle ground and safe as house in your world
With the kitchen the palace of your Arabian Nights
Occasional benders on white wine
Mingle with the sounds of Most Haunted on Living TV
Deary me
Oh Deary me

Monday, January 28, 2008

Across The Park by Fester Bryan

Walk on the hypotenuse
Saving time after the traffic lights.
Across the spongy grass
To maybe catch the king of the sideburns.
The clerk with the drinker's nose
Duffel coat and disappointed stare
Walking past the tennis courts
With the early morning women's doubles
Chatting and laughing about some class they'd tried.
Always a tinge of envy as you pass
The twenty something who should have done better
But who has ended up doing some job in the park.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Ghosts in Lime by Lauren Beziers

Ghosts in lime, for a cheesecake reverie.
Creeping through their tenderness on chopped tip toes.
Formidable no teeth targets, sucking in gummy darts.
Strained in tea, and washed down with old ladies.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Water Death by Lauren Beziers

In the dark lake
Where the woman died
The fish grow big on slime
And the trees bend over low.

The hill's shadow casts its gloom,
Gnats nip while the cow's graze
The woman jumped in and did not get out
Porceline and crimson blue on mottled white and grey.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

Place Yourself at my Disposal by Lauren Beziers

Ravaged in the sunshine
Blistered by the heat
A dog on my lap and stiletto pierced
Shama Shamuna whispers in my ear
"Gravy for breakfast
Cold beer for tea
Lap dancers in my pocket
Half Nelson on a best friend"

Its Love at first sight with Shama Shamuna
The lady of the night
Afraid to step out onto her little balcony
In case the turds roll in and cover her.

In Thailand before the war on drugs
The special forces plagued my life
But Shama Shamuna lifted my spirits
And I carried myself off to other climes
Backward and upside down
Across flattened hills of Opium.

Shama Shamuna married me to a post
Handcuffed me to my religious other half
Knotted me into origami templates
Brought me riches beyond belief
Carted me off to the hospital when I spat out the blood of years
Chose my favourite colour
Signed my cheques
Created a sauce a day with pasta and rice
Opened the wine and beer
Loved my Ho Chi Min jokey style.

Radiator of boiler plate shinings
Come back to me and radiate the heat of dogs
Lower yourself into my world of worms
Say goodbye to the tepid water of Highbury
Sink into the shallow end of a childrens pool in Bognor
Place yourself at my disposal.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Social Attack at the Rear by Fester Bryan

Acute angled black lines
Speeding towards more concrete
And sometimes ending in black ball
Where the screams of a cartoon midget
Replay over and over
To an audience of backheads.
The oohs and the aahs puncture the white noise
As an owl swoops down into the jaws of a sad monster.

Mirror town
Where shards and old funny mirrors
Are stuck together and placed next to skin promotions
Is the place to be at christmas
When the jingles and the jangles are reflected
Men with the same old trilby rush home
On the last day
To stare at themselves in broken glass

A Red Indian smokes the pipe of peace
On a mini roundabout.
Bursts of inner turmoil leak out of their mouths
When they start to dance Le Rock
But smiles soon start to appear
When the taxman comes round
And offers them free gin and guns.

Holy Reindeer
On all fours praying to the giant jukebox
In the frozen purple cheesecake sky
Stuffed with stuffed tomatoes and stuffed peppers
Sated and full
But empty in pocket
Soon giving up religion for begging
And back again to the yellow church
For the Coffee mornings so decaffeinated
Where Shirley organises them all into small groups

Home again at quarter past nine
Tucked up in bed at eleven
Up in the morning at eight thirty sharp.
Its the routine you see
Its the way it goes
Its the way the tummy rumbles

Social attack at the rear
Of the
Social attack at the rear brigade
Who are heading west on the
Social attack at the rear highway to hell

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Trouble by Fester Bryan

Trouble, Double
Trouble Rubble
Hubble Space Bubble

Twice the problems I had Yesterday
My back garden wall has given way
And now as I stare into the infinite beyond
Not a thing
Its all a black shroud with pinpricks

Trouble Stubble
Trouble Dub ill
Pub'll frighten Gerbil

Oh dear, I forgot to shave for
The important meeting with the Execs
Which was ruined because our Reggae man is sick
He drank too much last night with his scared pet.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Golden Razor by Lauren Beziers

I would like to shave
The smooth skin on my chin
To make it even smoother
So I shall
And then Anya will say
"You crazy cat !"
"Shaving your smooth chin"
Looking at me with hands on hips
Expression like Minnie the Minx.

Anya wears red and black sweaters,
Cursed with a square chin,
Delighted by spiders and mice.
I cannot shave my smooth chin
With her standing there
And it seems pointless now
As pointless as it really is,
So I thank her from the bottom
Of my bottom
With a fart that clouds the air
With the Fug of my bowels
To inspire and fill her with wonderment
At the diversity of smell
In the immediate environment
All adding to life's rich compost
Charging our batteries
So that we do not beep at regular intervals
So high that no-one but the dogs can hear

I think back to my pointless need
To cut away nothing from my perfect jut
Realising that I was given a Golden Razor for Christmas
Cut oh cut away, slash and burn !
Smoothy smooth
Golden Razor Smooth
Anya trumpets with her armpits
Reaching a squealing and piercing crescendo
La La La La Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
The agony of too smooth.

LB 2007

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Alphabet Meadow by Fester Bryan

A B see me
In the meadow with the flower
D E have you any cheese ?
To go with the white wine I've brought

G H I have mustard
And billowing rolls of beef
J K hell is meat without horseradish
Forget the food and lie a while

M N Oh my god
It's started to rain
P Q are you going to go home now ?
Or is just a summer shower

S T you should stay and enjoy the meadow
Forget the rain its only water
V W aches and pains will disappear
While the rain cloud passes over and away

Y Z why not ?

Monday, June 11, 2007

No Chance by Fester Bryan

Slave to the rave trade
Or is it the rough trade
Off for power
Against money
Not knowing which way to turn
It is the angular pyramid man
Superhero of the nineteen nineties nights
When oil and carving were in your hobby list
Wrangled with myopic mothers in traffic jams
When the kids dropped
And your kitchen floor was coated with marbles
Then the penny dropped
Yet more dropped
And then the castle creaked
Fallen amongst the masonry you sheltered from the rain
In a cloak of coal and misery guts united
You spat out your last poem
About Wall street and the chaffinches of greedy layby bungs
Mama cannot help you now
You are oblique
No amount of opaqueness will rescue you now
You have no chance
The chance went with the penny that dropped
When the bounce was minute and the marble rolled
Triggering the drop into the cellar
And the night time obsession with charcoal and rice
Less said the less bled
More talk more fork
Let out the scream of the blind alley
Charge the brigade
Must make a fiver
Must make a tenner
Must multiply until the coffers are full of rancid blather

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Thursday, May 03, 2007

Work and Play by Lauren Beziers

Headache oh grossen farten
Minehead and itchy sands
Aeroplane and the churning round of sickness
Mile high virus club

Lost in the fuzzy clouds
Of a brain diagram
Organised by a company in Reading
With a message about information overload

Dripping down the stairs for coffee
Stopping half way for water
Do not ever get the lift
Traipse up the endless flights to the end

LB 2007

Thursday, April 12, 2007

The Swan by Lauren Beziers

Deep down in the age of history,
Where knights play and dragons fester,
Calmly stands the frozen pond on which the eunuch swan sits
Playing it's ocarina.
Oh Boy ! and Jackie strewn banks,
Just Seventeen ripped to shreds on a hedge,
But the swan plays on.

Friday, April 06, 2007

Arn's World by Lauren Beziers

Arn's world is a spacial place
Made of horse chestnut puree and retirement do's
Where white linen and cheese straws compete near bowls of various fruits.

Arn's World is seen from the bottom up
Head against the clean wooden floor, with skirts and trousers a mainstay
The runny nose leaking on a sore upper lip while the eyes water.

Arn's World is taken away to a bright white coridoor
Where the ceiling glides by and faces peer in
Voices mutter and other peoples urgent business is conducted in earshot

Arn's world is closed down in stages
Like a bank of switches flipped off at the end of the day
Musn't grumble, cannot grumble, off switch down, click.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Beautiful America by Donald Fiedler

The pink and white dogwood trees
cross over each other's branches
and space out against the clear blue sky
One more day
of war and destruction
of mud and blood, rage and hysteria

The sun radiates
sending us a spark
of peace and joy

The highway is endless
cars swivel and rattle endlessly
Never to find a way home...

The woods are dense and thick
with glistening streams
and magnificent trees
...unlike our world...
filled with an endless array
of stores and malls
merchants and advertisers

The woods are nice to go to once in
a while
The sparks are gratefully accepted

The muddy, bloody road of death and decay
had got to reach an end


The Dragon and the Troll by Fester Bryan

I slip away in a dream
Floating upstream
To the place I know so well
The little cave with the little shells

Gamboling, frolicking in the dark
Skipping through the puddles
Looking for god knows what
In the dimly lit chamber

Listen ! What noise is that ?
Is that a lost goat or a Reindeer bleating ?
I tiptoe further
Brave as always
But shaking !

I fear the giant Troll
I’m afraid of stumbling on a Dragon !
With fiery breath or mouth of giant teeth
These two disturb my dreams

So I tiptoe towards the noise
And turn the little corner
To see A giant Dragon
With a Troll on its back
Oh deary me !

Double up my fear
I am scared now
What do I do ?
Turn and run ?

Oh no not I !
I face my final curtain
And my cheeks light up in the dragons flame
As I am engulfed by a giant mouth
And gobbled up
With the sound of a laughing Troll
As the final sounds of my life

Its all over now.

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Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Here I am in Naples by Esten Walker

Here I am in Naples
Stapled to the hotel door
Drawing on my reserves
Following the Single Malt
Experience with Frank
That stank of girls shampoo
And Fruit and Veg.
Staggering Gutterbound
In search of my dead parents
In a town they never visited
In a country they visited once
When they were quite young.
Of course I will never find them here
Or in the bottom of my empty glass
But the crack continues
And I cannot deny it has been fun
Here in Naples
Before in Rome With Petra and April
Round And Round the Coliseum
We go getting dizzy
And before that in Athens
Town of Acropolis and smog
Still searching for the deadly pair
Of pastel shaded, grey haired accident victims
Mama, Papa, dance with me
Across the shiny sea
To where the moon and the spoon play timeless tunes
And a cow you told me about
Floats down a canal
To a cheese market.
I liked that cow, and although the cheese was rather bland
I liked to turn the page
And see the next picture
Colourful illustrations of deep beauty and innocence
Dead parents stuck in my near haze
Floating in jelly
Getting further and further away
Until POP !
They disappear
And all I have left is bits of jelly
Which I smear on my face
Laughing like a human hyena
Who has caught an obese rabbit
I never kept my locker tidy
Sorry Mum
Sorry Dad for spilling the glue
On the new carpet
But it is time to let go
Bob a bit
Paddle gently
And ……

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Monday, January 29, 2007

Regional Heats by Fester Bryan

They had entered the regional heats
Reginald and Blane
The ladies offered coffee, and biscuits and hair.
The regional heats were near Hereford
A long way from the Oxfordshire Home
So, a night out to remember for the large rats.
They ventured into the nearest bar and stayed until closing.
All had vanished by half past nine
Save for Reginald and Blane
Playing away on a sticky wicket.
Reginald had the regional hots for Martha barmaid Mrs.
Blane lied and told her that R was in Prison and out on day release.
So Reginald retreated marsupial back into his pouch of many colours.
Away day next day and the sun shone on the bald spot.
The game was over in less than a speed chess.
Martha was working again in the bar from over there.
They popped in for a swift half a natters piss.
Gold dripped from their pockets as their legs froze in a cool box.
Reginald talked of the regional heats and the losing streaker.
Much ado about bugger all.
Love blossomed right there, and then, Oxfordshire in its entirety loomed up
And spat its message loud and clear across Herefordshire.
"Time for Home ! Time for Home"
You pair of rapscalious rascals !
Two men in a bow tie and boaters
Limping down the chestnut drove
Crossing the Marshmallow hedgerows
In a desperate search for Old Music Hall gags.
That they will never find.
Daisy Daisy give me your answer do
I'm crazy like a frog
For You

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

A Japanese Mid-Winter by Lauren Beziers

Golden bears dripping in honey

Paw Paw lick lick supper quick

Chainsaw massacre in the nursery

Dead doll carnage with the uplifted head

Staring into space just as they ever did

Just as they ever did.

Sitting in the concrete jungle

Eating the yoghurt that they said was good

Chunky fruit caught in throat choke

Projectile spitting at the lawyers

Marching in quick time steps

Staring like androids

In the poor house with the old mum

Worrying about little Jim

In bed with a cough and fever

Pale and weak and pathetic with limp hand raised

Not likely to spring in one mighty leap

With electric guitar and plectrum teeth

All these things, alien and cold

Snuffed with one firelighter and the coal,

Non smokeless, polluting warmth,

Enveloping the family in their box nest

Lying in a painterly display

In front of Tekeshi’s castle, enjoying a Japanese mid winter.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Windswept but Globally Warm by Fester Bryan

Windswept Isle
Crashing waves around
Dead fish abound
In the Holy Grail of Holy Grails
Munster and Newcastle
Hove and Bracknell
Occasional Twisters and
Globally Warm disasters
Give us 'ere a chance to bend an ear
About the weather
Glorious weather in all her glory
Naked like the wind
So that we can Shout
And Shout again
We love the changeble weather
And we quite like the weather girl
Who delivers the news in a comical stance
With hands that lead us to her invisible page
Of Typhoons and Hurricanes
Edna and Brian
Smashing small huts in far off lands
While we stand
On our cliff edge
And cry
Hello Weather
Give us your worst you evil doer
Because we forget the peircing sun and cancer rays
Of youthful summer
When the rocks are even placid
And swimming is a delight
Bognor to Brighton and Blackpool
Sticks of rock and a pretty hat
Vaguely chilly evenings in the pub garden
With a hint of dew and sap rising up your shorts
Oh weather
What'll we do when you get out of hand ??


Friday, December 08, 2006

Is This It ? by Lauren Beziers

When I went to the rubbish tip
To cavort with the seagulls fine
I saw a young girl tarrying
In a pink dress devine

The cross to bear on that garbage heap
Is the lost lottery ticket grim
To stumble over putrid waste
From homes and factories, to win.

Muck and sick and nappies by the thousand score
Its not a good place to play
Nor to search for months on end
When every day is a grey day grey.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Riders on the Lawn by Fester Bryan

In the twilight world
Of caged animals in white rooms
The door creaks
And the Clock tocks
With a resigned nod the porter sweeps
And Big Brother Watches full time

Out of the window we can see
The tidy lawns of Mansion X
The inmates preen themselves
For two hours a day
And eat their sandwiches of processed cheese
Cross legged and chirping

When the motorbikes arrive
All look aghast
As the lawn is churned up
Tyres gouging the turf as wheels spin
The riders on the lawn
Have come to have a look

Then they are away
There is nothing for them here
We are safe from their danger
For another day
So out comes the backgammon
And the doctors notes are updated

UK Holiday ideas for all the family at

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

I've Been Away by Fester Bryan

Did you miss me ?
I've been away
Away to Mandalay
Not really

I was gone though
Metaphorically speaking
In tongues
So to speak

I got lost in the jungle
Of which it is very similar
And it makes me wonder

On my roller skates
Of joy,
With my mission bells
And Vicars collar.

What was I doing in Heaven ?
On roller skates ?
When Old Fat Cat
Had a roller and big cigar ?

So anyway, I was away,
On holiday in St Tropez,
With the bikini bottoms
And the bell boys.

We would take to the Hills
Every so often
For a quiet thunderstorm or two
Outside in the lost undergrowth.

Veeny would come and drive me
To the local town
Where we'd sit under a green tree
Reading Pigeon French

Ah ! Formidable
Est ce que tu connais ma mere ?
The locals loved us
And we liked the wine.

So spirited away too soon
I lamely got on a TGV and rerouted
My backpack to the hapless coridoor
And jiggered my way home.

So here I am
On your doorstep
You do not seem that pleased
Are you not going to welcome me in ?

Do I have to bend double
And peer between your legs ?
Is your cat afraid of me ?
Have you got a spare walking stick ?

May I use your phone ?
I want to speak with Veeny
Who has a cheque for me
He is in a local hostelry.

Friday, October 06, 2006

Abused and Broken by Kara Sallee

In sadness and sorrow I see the fight,
I lay on my pillow and dream of you,
Anger consumes my head throughout the night,
I do wonder if you dream of me too.

I await for my better days to come,
A subtle crying seems to ease the pain,
Inside I wait for my special someone,
In lonely misery it is a gain.

A world of pity will always follow,
Seeing you now is my only token,
It will be here like always tomorrow,
As I do remain abused and broken,
And follow me now depression and doom,
As I lay on the floor in my sad tomb.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Easy Now by Tom Shiner

Easy now walking down the street
In my Brown shoes and hat
Easy now as I walk past the bin
With a flick of my toes

Easy now as am caught in a photograph
With a tree of lime green
And the more I turn into a clown
The more fixed and static I become

Easy now as my feet grow
Easy now as I try to climb out of the photograph
With both hands on the old white border
I smile a clown’s smile

Easy now as I enter the dark and dreadful world
Of French mime
With a scornful dance and a sideways smirk
I disappear off stage left

Easy now as I drink my Scotch
In the dressing room.
Blow into the bottle with a toot
For my Mother

Easy now as I reach into my pockets
To produce some paper flowers
Which makes me want to dive
Into the watery paper

Into a murky glossy magazine
To join the city people with their city ways
Eat right and walk across gardening tips
To the lamppost surrounded with bright white

Then getting smaller,
To shrink to the full stop.
The dot on the page of health tips
For a lavender moment

Friday, September 15, 2006

Stream of Nothing by Jasmine Bennett

bog is a chain
chain is a lamp
lamp is a stream
a stream of nothing

under willow beach
eternal flowers die
sine will not thy
if all is not lost

bring me a pie
oh bring me a pie
to eat on the green
watching the stream
of nothing

Monday, August 21, 2006

Death and Destruction by Fester Bryan

The knife slipped in and blood gushed out
The hammer smashed the scull
And life stopped.
The black edge was reached
And the line was infinitely thin
No going back,
No going forward, stuck

All that offal and gore
Was left behind
On the patio floor.
The void opened up
And swallowed the pulse,
Human pie.
Dead meat.
Pinpoint in the eleventh dimension
Snuffed out.

As the eerie music plays
Flute and Glockenspiel
The volume drops to zero
And the graphic equalizer flatlines.
Mozart and Beethoven merge into Belgian Hip Hop,
All in one hundred millionth of a billionth of a micro second
Then there is silence
Beak sneeze radio maintained red lorry silence

Dream by Lauren Beziers

A dream ?
Something is asleep,
Who ?
An ogre,
What castle cloud
Is his home ?

Unlikely dream.
Not a dream.
Dream is our world.
World is small,

Beauty and pain
Our fault.
Unable to cope
With living

Teetering towers,
Space, fizzing.
Warped lines
Curved vacuums
On the time line.

Bumping, smashing
Merging and splitting.
Swimming, flying
Loving, laughing,
Ducking and diving.

Joe by Matt Sleeper

Joe was a clerk in a grocery store,
Just an average guy, no less, no more.
He loved his country and attended mass;
Just an average guy of the middle class.

Yes, Joe was average like you and I,
A fine example of an American guy.
Then one day by the old mailman,
A letter came from his Uncle Sam.

The note was short but the meaning strong,
"We're fighting a war---you're invited along."
Now this was the start of Joe's new life,
a future of battle, blood and strife.

It wasn't anything to be glad about
Joe's body was weak, but his heart was stout.
They taught him how to shoot and drill,
And told him that he had to kill.

They taught him all there was to teach,
And Joe fought like hell on that bloody beach.
With a gun in his hand and a yell so shrill,
He lead his squad up "Dead man's hill."

Dying men with anguished cries,
Are a horrible sight for any eyes.
Joe heard these groans from dying men,
As they fell at his side again and again.

His leg was now bloody from a wound in the thigh,
To fight like a man seemed a sure way to die.
As he fought his way forward, the only one left,
His brain was too tortured to warn of his death.

As more bullets found him and ripped thru his hide,
His face shone a grin both bloody and wide.
He staggered on forward with a courage that's rare,
Lord, what's holding him up, the smoke in the air?

With a grenade in his hand and his teeth tightly clenched,
he fell headlong into the enemy trench.
A few seconds later, a resounding roar,
Told the death of the lad from the grocery store.

Now somewhere a mother will mourn for her son,
And generals will talk of the battle they won.
But why did it happen? When will it cease?
Will man never grasp an eternal peace?

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Sun Ray by Fester Bryan

I didn’t know you
Your head was made of wood,
The eyeglass that you carried
Reflected all it could.

The sun ray pierced my shoulder,
The cherry was not ripe,
I left myself wide open,
I new you were my type.

The carriage clock was chiming,
Ornamental dog was cracked
The sewage farm was empty,
Half way down the track.

A leaf and plastic lying,
Like us in our bed,
Pure or everlasting,
Rule of heart or rule of head ?

Taken from my armchair,
After lime meringue,
I can forget the gaffer,
And the auberginal prang.

Sun ray rising,
Radiant sheen with heat,
Pour the drink securely,
The red will suit the meat.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Things Equal Being by Godfrey Bletch

Toe wrap
Super mangle
Lie grip
Garter untangle
Meat stain
Rise and the riser
Lip mould
Mango nuts.
Liebfraumilch and mature cheddar
Soap in the iron
Golf on Tuesdays
Registered blind drunk
Lapsang souchong
Rice and chips
Leg of mutton with a half bled corpse
Rag and bone men in the alley
Lice in the hair of demented children
Killjoys laughing
Sandpaper in the groin
Chess played at full speed
Facial painting in Borneo
Idiots on the other side of the road
Samaritans passing
Makeshift loyalty card schemes
Dreaming about foundlings
Belt shops
Manikins smoking
Liver and raw bacon
Soldiers fighting amongst themselves
Rabbits in the dry part of the forest
Twigs underfoot
The lady in the boat, asleep and drifting
Cardigans in the wind
A flag waving above a compost heap
Muriel in the larder
Gold offshore, amassing a huge profit for Mr Grimes.
Old Turkish battlefronts
Figs in a hopper of wheat
Salad bowls in a line with a swan
My pet duck
Loose women on the loose
Grabbing handbags from Oscar

Monday, July 17, 2006

Cherry Blossom Blues by Lauren Beziers

I sat on the flint wall
Under cherry blossom
Blue sky and gentle breeze
Ginger cat strolling

My glasses hit the ground
And Frank trod on them
The bin bag was torn open
Revealing yesterday's curry

Blackbird intrepid
Gull keenly screeching
Pigeons saving the West
And chicken tikka madras

Crystal Meth and Black Eyed Peas
Paul McCartney wading through mud
Cherry blossom quivers
In the mild caress of a benign wind

The blue door is painted well
But is rotting fast
Only it rots fast for years
And for two weeks under a beautiful pink parasol

Old fire guard and broken pots
Uncle Ben's burnt rice
And fried lice
Stirred with a pink petal suprise

Big pebbles from the beach
With monsters in permanent ink
And A4 lists of garage bands
With potential from a few years back

Humming a nonsensical tune
Under the blush canopy
With a mug of putrid green vile liquid
In my electric petal wonderland

Sunday morning with strong muscles
And a crazy coloured goat
I travel the flinty highway
To the seat under the cherry blossom

There I feel in touch with the three planes
The floor, the middle and the sky
Blistered feet and pudgy waist
With my head in the clouds of smog.

But through the haze
In the middle distance stands
A small creature, a human
My seven year-old son, Saint-Jeanne, in a toga

"Mama" he says soflty
"Look at the blossom of the cherry,
"It is beautiful"
And I hug him.

LB 2006

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

On the Edge of Time by Lauren Beziers

Alarm bells are ringing
The sweet smells of summer rain
Drip dripping on the crushed snail.

Ludzico points to the sky
An alien world is descending
Like a cloud of mustard gas on a poppy field.

Arthurian Legend looks down
From his bubble craft
Surveying his dirty new territory.

But one human finger, pointing with a wart
Can spin the other universe on its tip
And send it back to Point Black.

Ludzico sweats a cheesey sweat
Looking up for a return,
But all is quiet and all is calm.

Mangoroot and Bells whiskey
A tea for kings
In the shed, on the edge of time.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Gas by Lauren Beziers

Lingering around my nasal cavity
Threatening to seduce me
The invisible perfume
With intoxicating odour and mind bending allure.

The wash of the waves
In Crete splashed over my inner ear
Covering me in a spray
Of white horse sweat and creamy salt.

Now asleep and then awake
The gas flew me to Rio
Where I partook in gang football in a thong
With hot sand between my sparkling toes.

In a trice I appeared in court
With the fading judge unable to lift the gavel
The lawyers snored and the Jury crept away
And I sat prim and proper in my thick grey woollen skirt.

Mother, Father, rocking on painted waves
Drip dry animations with sea horses and seaweed
I call out "where are you"
They shout "none of your business !"

I wake and am sick
Make coffee I should not drink
Limp to the bedside cabinet for aspirin
And fall to the floor remembering.

LB 2006

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Food For Thought by Fester Bryan

As I thought Mr Drew
Calm now
Do not follow through
Or at least take the time
To think again Mr Drew.
For can you not see ?
The meaning in the air?
T's Mr Drew dear
Look here
T'is Mr Drew
The artful sneaky Mr Drew.

So now the Mr Drew
Do you want to go out and think on all this,
Or would you like to sit,
Sit in the chair I bought for my grandmother ?

Take your spindly legs off
Off to the supermarket
And fill your trolley
With the goods that you can purchase
In the aforementioned Supermarket.

For I understand that in a place
Such as the Supermarket, Mr Drew
One can purchase items of food in great quantity
Or small amounts depending
On the circumstances of ones arrival.

So in Paris or London
Brighton or Munich
One can enter, Mr Drew, the supermarket
And purchase items of food that are delightful to eat
So, where does this leave us
Mr Drew?
I think you know, do you not ?
I wish you to leave and ponder the thoughts that you know so well.
And then Mr Drew You can buy some foodstuffs at the local Supermarket
Some of which, no doubt, you will enjoy.
So be off, Mr Drew
Get away with you.

Be quick of mind and body
And leave me in peace, Mr Drew
For I have much to think about
While you are gone.
Such as "which way do I go to reach the opposite end of the spectrum ?"
And "Which way do I go to reach the underside of the other me that inhabits my other side"
And " When is the pastry cook not a pastry cook ?"
And "If I sleep for a quarter of a day, what do I do for the other three quarters, Mr Drew ?"
This I will ponder and chew
Mr Drew.
Chew on the bone of contention between me and you , Mr Drew
So go – be off and away,
Gallop into the sunset on your fine steed,
Get to that modern place,
The Great halls of food.
And get the food of your choice from the supermarket, Mr Drew
Be quick
For to be quick is to be clean and sharp
So be rapid in thought and in action.
All around will admire, Mr Drew
The speedy responses you can give to those small niggling problems
That crop up from time to time
In the course of the normal day.

Be away
Time to ponder
Eat your food
Once it is bought with
The hard earned cash
Mr Drew
Au revoir
Mr Drew
See you

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Oldy Worldy Nicey Nicey by Fester Bryan

Oldy worldy nicey nicey
Chocolate fudge and lovely oldy worldy butterscotch.
Oldy lady in her lacey,
Sherbet Lemons, humbugs and gobstoppers
Tizer nice and Corona
Two pence back on the bottle.

Ye olde shoppe then
On the toppe of the open toppe bussy,
To Devils dyke
To roll down the hill
Then home for curry, very nicey indeed.
Oldy worldy nicey nicey

Thursday, June 01, 2006

"Ride a cock earwig" by Daisy Grace Durrant

Ride a cock earwig to Banbury shed
To see a fine Felix - stand on his head
Django has no trousers and Daisy's in bed
Ride a cock earwig to Banbury shed

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Substance Over Style by Godfrey Bletch

Yellow stained tears
Fall down your rose scratched chin
Into a mirrored pool on the formica.

Limes and ginger abound in your charming kitchen,
Sweaty puss and lamplit drug addled youth
Scrape at the chrome furnishings.

There you stand in your dressing gown
Drinking the infusion
Imagining the hay loft and the three gargoyle abbey.

Simon P slams the think tank door
Heads for the local argument
Driving while drunk, vapour released and minted.

Cold, so cold
In Draylon and gauze underwear
Lying in the forget-me-not and cowslip parsley meadow bed

A house is a house
A dream is not built, but remains a dream
Shafts of light intersect the dust in a glittering inhaler display

So, lemon women
The spark plug is replaced
A gigglebit of memories slotted in next to the 'doing' card.

What now and where with all ?
Down into the showering rain
For a skip in the mudlight brown, wet earth

Au Revoir
Goodbye, well done
For scratching out the hole with a teaspoon, you have done well.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

Scumbag and Humbug! by Godfery Bletch

The blood boils
Face reddens
Kettle head and whistle blow
Lids rattle and roll,
Scumbag Humbug !
Old man temper bubbles with disbelief.

Redder and redder
Incredulous foaming mouth.
Vicar teeth plus yellow ochre
Sure to burst and weaken slow
Death's last laugh at the angry codger.
Scumbag humbug !

In the slow of the slowing afternoon
When the nap siesta folds
The furrowed brow of the angry man
The breathing slows with curtain drawn
And dreams of god knows what transport
The tired head to rest
With anger postponed for a breath.

Locked away in the deepest hole
Is the key of the secret thought
That holds the frame
Of this stooped
Perspiring human
Upright to an extent.
This is all a blustering act
To keep the spiders and their cobwebs of doom
From weaving their tacky nests
All over the weasly body
Of the old man.
Scumbag humbug !

Monday, May 15, 2006

Esther by Fester Bryan

Esther, shall we go out ?
To the store to buy the paw paw ?
Or would you rather
Stay in and lather
Me ?

Esther, you sit so quiet
Reading your obscene zine
I wish you'd show some zing
For a finer thing
Like Me

FB 2006

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Lazy Days by Lauren Beziers

The sun shines outside
Its knowing it that counts
Stillness with a hint of breeze
Here, inside the uplifting gloom

Just walking from room to room
Nothing at all to do;
Empy headed, vacant dreamer
Enjoying these lazy days

LB May 2006

Sunday, May 07, 2006

A Single Point by Fester Bryan

In the black hole my chest is squeezed
My ribs are squashed and a skeleton am I
Reading about Custer's Last Stand
Humming "Hiawatha didn't bother too much"

The Black Hole compresses me further into a singularity
A singularly small singularity
Where there is room only for one thought
I must be almighty
If I am at this single point
And alive to tell the tale

And so the Universe decides to contract and fall in on me
To muscle in on my single point
And the rush is quite impolite
But being at the centre of things is the place to be
And I'm sure the outcome will be pretty interesting

Smack out
Back out
Boom Bang Bust
Now there's a long wait for my dusty entrails to reform

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Which Way by Lauren Beziers

Which way ?
Which way ?
Which way to go to the other side of town ?
Which way ?
Which way ?
Which way to go to the river
On the wrong side of the track ?
Which way to the shooting ?
Which way to the death camp ?
Which way to the almighty oblivion shop ?
Which way to the old freight train ?
I want to hop on the old freight train
I want to travel with cows
Which way to the train with cows ?
Where are the cows ?
Why are there no cows ?
Who told me there would be cows in the old freight train ?

LB 2006

Monday, May 01, 2006

Slime by Godfrey Bletch

Green was the slime that covered my legs
As I tramped through the Forest of Dean
Then even more slime covered by back
At Silverstone being too keen

The worst slime that ever appeared on my body
Was in the Ardeche in a gorge at half past two
Behind a bush I innocently walked
Into someones makeshift loo

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Love for you by Jasmine Bennett

Walking along,

a tulip in her hand,

swing oh swing, the road is long,

longer than the oceans of blindness,

that she has crossed to come to you...


Often she says "the woods are deep",

deeper than thoughts sleeping on a sandy beach,

where crystals washed a million times,

beneath diamonds in a purple sky

must wait for the sun to rise...


Only she knows,

only she can know,

from the other side of the street,

she comes to you,

a tulip in her hand...

I travel by Geoffrey Chancer

Oh solid discs how you turn on an axle passed through the centre on a
vehicle for carrying passengers,
usually along a fixed route,

You move in a circular procession,circular procession,circular procession,

I have observed the discs on a vehicle for carrying passengers,
usually along a fixed route,

Move in a circular procession,

During the period of light between dawn and nightfall.

Gold by Fester Bryan

Gold shine
Bright and clammy
Matted shine of big bar money
I like the sweet taste
Of success
I have turned to face the
Gold shine
And a golf ball sized hole
Has been burnt
In my rational brain
I have little rational thought left
So I point my telescope at the sun
To have a good look at the solar flares
Now all that is left for me is black
my cat 
And a dripping tap

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Hove by Godfrey Bletch

I lived in Hove in 1984
Above a funeral Parlour
Purple shroud and casino together
Outside my back door

The secretary of the undertaker
Was having an affair
With the chief undertaker
And they seemed very happy

I got my piano stuck
Trying to get it up the stairs
And a young women had to wait an hour
To get out to the pub

Purple Shroud and casino
Outside my back door
The spin of the wheel
The dead body still

Chauffeurs - calmly smoking
And kicking tins

Hove 1984

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

To be on this hill is my dream by Gary Hargreaves

To be on this hill is my dream
Standing tall and looking out over the sea.
My telescope extended to its fullest reach
Is that a boat I spy ?
Or is it a large herring gull in majestic flight ?
The wind whips my large ears
The grass is wet with spray
But I stand here on the edge of the cliff
And survey the view

Emily wanted to come
But she is poorly
Poor thing has the flu

So I stand against the elements alone
Proud to be here on this mighty hill
This almost mountain by the azure
Which on sunny days sees picnics and games
But on these blustery December mornings
Sees just me, in great coat and scarf
Screaming in unison with the elements
And turning in dizzy circles with face upwards to the clouds
Laughing and screaming with intense delight

For it is a good thing
To scream
And Shout
Some times

Poor Emily
At home with her fever
While I enjoy the thrust of the mighty ocean
The thwack of the Westerly gale aginst my ruddy face
The drenching from the persistent rain
And the cold cold feelings in my heart
The ice stone at the core of my being that
Prevents me from breaking free from this infernal hill
And making something of myself in the city
Like Moz has

Trudge home poor boy
And see to your aching wife
Think not of these things
Make the tea
Go on
Make the damn tea
I will make the tea
The zen of tea making
Its all I need
Joy is back

Sod Moz

GH 2006

Monday, April 17, 2006

Rag Tag and Damp by Lauren Beziers

The Mary Poppins Sing Along
Makes me happy – you know
A Spoonful of Sugar makes the medicine go down
So I would thank you for Smoking

Right in my face while I write !

Together we are the self-styled Merchants Of Death
I play broomball
With a ball and a broom
And a tough bike, a tougher guy and a sweet chick
Now that’s a great combination !

The show has just begun. Sit back and enjoy
It's been a long road, but a stable, secure,
And much improved me is now available
Mihai rocking
I wanted it to be as easy
I'm not a noob
But this has been the rainiest March
On record in San Francisco
So no wonder I feel damp

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Egg Bound by Fester Bryan

As I walk along the way
To the place I used to sway
Inebriated with the toxic delight
Of your Schnapps
The gun on your picnic table
And the oysters of your obsession
Calm me like a passionfruit
Of egg bound blindness

FB 2006

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Azzawazar by Gary Hargreaves

Oi - what are you reading ?
Its the blog of a log
And the log's a crock
And the crock is old
And the wheels are falling off
And they are rolling down a hill
And the hill is near Gatwick in 1930
And the driver is a pilot
And the plane he files is in a race to Paris
His moustache is like my Aunt Fanny
He smokes Woodbine
He loves a woman truly
But he sees prostitutes
And he puffs and he huffs and he blows houses down

Gary Hargreaves 2006

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Northern Love Fester Bryan 2006

Polar wind blows fierce against my body
Ice forms at the slightest breath
My furs are like a string vest
And its minus twenty five
But a steady pilot light
Gently glows at my core
Where the thought of you
Flickers forever
Ready to ignite into the passion flame

Thursday, March 23, 2006

The Smart Arse by Lauren Beziers

Old Bill we called him
Solid build and choppy tempered
Played with the kids
At the temperance bar
Called us names and we didnt like that
Old Bill was a Feisty Smart Arse

Locked in battle with his demons
Drink and tobacco in vast quantity
Old Bill snacked on the talk he could get
At a railway station
In Gwent

I met him outside Wales
In a far away village called Wendens Ambo
It had the stately home of Audley end
And a station to Cambridge
He liked that little station
and the curved bus that trundled to
Saffron Walden

So, he says to me
You are you and me is me
And we are all together
The clock chimed three
And the late train was later still

I wanted to have the little blonde boy
That was mine
At home, sitting on my lap
While I write a piece on the computer
And drink my tea
listening to Talk Radio or a CD

But here I was with Old Bill
That noisy old fool
Coughing and spluttering his way
Through a pack of Handy Andies
And an ounce of Golden Virginia
With green rizlas

Oh to be at home
Without this beer guzzling nut
Carlsberg Special Brew advocate
And Arsenal fan
Of all the people in the world to chew the fat with
I have to end up with you
You git !

Ah! some espirite de vie my sweet
You protest too much
Let me tell you

Death overcame him and became him
I was befuddled and bemused

Good bye Old Bill

LB 2006

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Cold Snap by Fester Bryan

Tight snug in the woolly hat
With your head down to the breeze
Tight face aching all the time
Pink skin and whispered mist

A faint smile but your head still down
Giving it your intrepid march across snowy wastes
The pattern on the dress is Victorian
So back to the old school house

Warm winter logs
Coal and rain
The bits of rubbish by the old shovel
Next to the broken down coal bunker
More leaves in the drain

Drips of rain falling from the ivy
The ginger cat runs in fast
The old sculpture has lost its head
The snails crunch

A ball is popped and wet
Where cherry blossom once fell
And the stones have not all been removed
From the fortress at the bottom of my hill.

Fester Bryan 2006

Friday, March 03, 2006

The Toothpaste Race - by Gary Hargreaves

The day my toothpaste raced the cat
Was cold with spots of rain
Tabby was hot and sweated alot
And the toothpaste ran like a train

Over the pans and skittles and pins
The two of them battled all day
Not one to shirk, I'd been to work
To earn my daily pay

At half past five I entered my flat
And saw the feline stood
Paws up high, twinkle in eye
Just like a winner should

I looked around for the loser tube
But to my great dismay
The over raced spearmint paste
Was squashed so I threw it away.

Gary Hargreaves 2006

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Whisper - a poem by Godfrey Bletch

Faint murmurings like wispy lace
Are swirling round my brain
I arch my neck and lift my face
To feel the pouring rain

I drink the acid water pure
Then belch a dragons flame
I'm angry, and there is no cure
A rage I cannot tame

Who are these foe who meekly plot
With whispers of my doom
They are so rancid, full of rot
I must not give them room

Will I fight for ever more
These fiends I cannot spy
Or will I find a distant shore
Where in peace I'll lie

Godfrey Bletch - 2006

Monday, February 27, 2006

9.15am Monday morning - a poem by Fester Bryan

9.15am Monday Morning

I take a short walk
To StarBucks for a caffeine fix
Three sugars for luck
And a chat with a big guy

Kicking rubbish soon after
I spied a pigeon
Rummaging around
looking for scraps
I felt similar
That is small and shabby
Unloved, unnoticed

So I went into A Sandwich Bar
Called Reggie's Big Rolls
To order a Tuna mayonnaise baguette
Which was nice

Then I saw you
A picture from the Sunday Supplement
Radiant advert for hair colouring
I remembered you from St Nicholas School
We had taught there in '86
You certainly had weathered better than I
So I sidled up and mentioned that fact

Shocked, you turned round
I could see you were vunerable
I could win this lottery ticket
The thought was instant
An instant win
No publicity
More caffeine and successful chatter
Promises to meet in the near future

The wind and rain had let you off
But your soul was mildly dehydrated
Wrinkling your smile
You were not so sure of the right way
So in the next few days I shed my trampish skin
And dolled myself up
In suits and suede shoes
Practising ordering exotic cocktails

You really turned me around

And the rest is history
Now you sit here in your thick white jumper
With a hot mug of coffee
And Spongebob Squarepants on for the kids

FB 2006

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Meander - a poem by Fester Bryan

Meander - a poem by Fester Bryan 2006
Twist and Turn
Pathway, I can see you
Curved and bent ahead of me
Will you meander with no thought
Of the right way or the wrong way
Directionless, but ever forward
Never back
Always onward with time
Unable to be One Whole Thing
With no hours or days
But on the treadmill
I ride your wheel
Like a hamster
Pathway with no memory
I am driving you fast at night
Only the bright eyes of the Fox
And the whispering trees in view
Caught momentarily in the scorch of brilliant headlights 
Take me to a town like Seville
Where I can then meander
In the heat
To a different beat
And forget the relentless race
Of you    

Saturday, February 25, 2006

On a lake - a poem by Lauren Beziers

On a lake - a poem by Lauren Beziers 2006
I was on a lake
Not walking
I was sitting in a boat
Not laughing
The bearded young fellow
Who rowed us to the middle
Was annoying me
I said "So you are going to catch a fish then ?
And he replied
In a twinkle of an eye
That "the time was not right for
The air was damp
I felt damp
And the lake was grey to black
I called to my
Mother on the bank
With her paper and pipe
To "stop knitting"
But she ignored me
My bearded young fellow
Rowed us back
And he gallantly helped me out
I said "I never want to see this lake again"
To which he replied "nor me"
Its the fickle nature
Of the mood of day
That can turn you against
The things you should love best
And in keeping with this universal tide
I enjoyed a marvelous day out by a lake
Not three weeks later
But the bearded man
Was replaced by
Smooth faced
Handsome young buck
And I was three weeks older and wiser
We caught a fish that day
And ate it with tartar sauce
All felt beautiful and dreamlike
LB 2006

Sweet Nothings - a poem by Lauren Beziers

Sweet Nothings

Written by Lauren Beziers 2006

We are alone
On this ball
Spinning in the void

Alone together
Together to bear
The endless end

So let's enjoy
And fill this space
With our sweet nothings !