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workshop

This shows the poems in just one one workshop. To see all the poems on Neopoet, go to the stream. Or go to the workshop page itself, where you can find out more about the syllabus.

The attraction of the construction worker

Worship the scaffolder he has an art
It is a skill that sets him apart
The construction of a safe platform
From which to engineer building reform
Every job has got it's worth
Even dealing with rubble and dirt
Providing major industry
For constructions till eternity
Solid build, eighteenth century
lasted longer than you or me
And don't forget the builders bum
The wolf whistle whilst he has his fun
Tiling your roof and grouting your ceiling
Making the room so white and appealing

so me thinks

I think I saw you last night,
in the far distant shadow of my dreams …

you were screaming,
perhaps I couldn’t hear clearly,
was it my name
as you traversed over my bodily carpet
unknowingly fast you paced
and trampled me …

oh what a beauty
you could be someone shouted

darling it’s not he, tis me
and
you ran back into the shell
as I could imagine
but now twas hell …

all dunky dory
heaven and hell
rang bells of glory,
not for thee
but me…

40's Swing

‘40’s Swing !

Get down and
let’s boogey to the swing
that does that special “ thing”:
slide ,turn and glide
across the floor
let your body free
jump to the drum beat
girate, bump and grind
Oh, my!
Shake your booty
show me what you got
Ouch !
your mamma and papa did no wrong!!
There ain’t no maybe, baby
Pull back the rugs
Play that 40s song
And let’s dance

Our Music

I have no music stand
to remind me
of the music
you used to play
Its shaft end
too remembered
to be comfortable

So skilled with your
instrumental phallus
so many notes
so many times
I bowed my head
and adored
adored
the senses
of your masterpiece

I could be transported
to touch temporal perfection
I was often laid open
to experimental notes
on frenzied flesh

acuncular (shark pool)

dream awake
the doorframe waits
smudged with drifts
collisions in passage
rudderless

a lamp burns
and a fossil television
eye beams

scrapes and bruises
bumps and cuts
while a cold fuscia
morning crouches
at the window

The steam ghosts
rising from gas vent
populations
across tar and brick

"my debt is thick"

glitter stare like trinket
bottles and coffee table
scene stained touch

Wish You Enough

Saying good-bye to a friend
can sometimes seem unfair,

one tries to express things
showing they really care.

So I’m tackling this task
even though it’s quite rough,

I won’t say, “good-bye”
but, I wish you enough.

I wish you enough sunlight
to lessen your pain,

and to enjoy the sun’s grace
I wish you enough rain;

I wish you enough happiness
so you’ll enjoy every mile,

with just enough sadness
to appreciate a smile;

to satisfy your “wants”
I wish you enough “gain”,

Washington IRiS Blues

wobbling close to a cliff
deep in shit
can't go forward
can't back up

the Man's up my ass
pushing His might
pay, and I'll stop
He swears
it's His right

lying, needy bastard
He's always horny for more

the Man has a hungry monkey on His back
...and a major ever-breeding greedy pack of steroidal goon-guards to feed

I'm starting to wonder
what's at the bottom of the cliff

In Moriver's enduring spring
there rose to new life, many things
that in the erst, in slumber deep
had lain, entombed in Hilfe's keep.
Through many years of terror bleak            5
that sullied plain to mountain peak
the mighty Queen of all the world
her graces from the west withheld
until the raging tempers stilled
and noble blood no more was spilled.            10

'Twas long ago, when Hamclad's hold
was newly wrought upon the fold
beneath the northern mountains high,
where icy summits scraped the sky.
Deep down within the dolven halls        5
of Aladice's gloomful walls;
there in a subterranean vale
do we begin this wondrous tale.

Just a Mo...

Just a Mo…

It doesn’t matter how
you cut it, this
planet is our life.
We can’t blame the
tracks for division
while monetary
inequality’s
still rife.

Though we may
hide behind
education or
religion, the deed
is ours alone.
The rich always
eat meat, while
the rest shall
suck on the bone.

Pages

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