Not another unfulfilled new years resolution
Right this is the first lot of poems I'm putting up on this new site. I used to actually have a dedicated site for all my poems but then again I used to have a lot of other things as well including in no particular order: my health, a fit rich girlfriend, no debts, veins, money in the bank. Well not to worry coz I may be what the Oxford Dictionary terms a "fuck up" but I'm not finished yet. You know why?? Coz I have a plan. Yes I may have been in this game since 97 and yes a lot of good friends have fallen along the way but I am still standing and have a little thing called hope. A bit of that and the knowledge that whatever comes to pass I am still a good person no matter what bad shit I have done in the past is keeping me headstrong. So I wrote a list this New Years day of things I want to do this year and starting writing again was one of them.
Life is a long journey made up of many little steps and the first step of mine is to put up all my old material in the hope that it will inspire me to write some new stuff. So here it is. Make of it what you will. If you have some good stuff of your own feel free to post. And to anyone out there who cares: have a good life if you want one! Laters.
Jingle Jangle
Jingle Jangle, Jingle Jangle
My heads up my arse like a fucking spangle.
Coz I'm banged up, Clanged up and rattling to fuck,
but that's the price I pay for running out of luck.
Prison food, the dog food, all the fucking swill,
none of it matters when you're feeling this ill.
The bunk beds, razors edge, I'm on my torture rack,
none of it would matter if someone would give me some smack.
Keep twisting and turning in a moments toil,
God I wish I had a beetle crawling down the foil.
These messed up games, the ones we like to play,
all I wanted was a gram a day.
So hurry up Joey, you said you'd be quick,
shit it's getting late, looks like I'm gonna go sick.
There's sweat on my back and fire in my brain,
I aint ever gonna touch that shit again.
All right babe, just a touch, just to see it pass,
then I promise you finito at last.
So what ever comes, or come what may,
the Wigstars the man, let me hear you say,
Jingle Jangle, Jingle Jangle,
I'm all fucked up, I'm a fucking Spangle.
My heads up my arse like a fucking spangle.
Coz I'm banged up, Clanged up and rattling to fuck,
but that's the price I pay for running out of luck.
Prison food, the dog food, all the fucking swill,
none of it matters when you're feeling this ill.
The bunk beds, razors edge, I'm on my torture rack,
none of it would matter if someone would give me some smack.
Keep twisting and turning in a moments toil,
God I wish I had a beetle crawling down the foil.
These messed up games, the ones we like to play,
all I wanted was a gram a day.
So hurry up Joey, you said you'd be quick,
shit it's getting late, looks like I'm gonna go sick.
There's sweat on my back and fire in my brain,
I aint ever gonna touch that shit again.
All right babe, just a touch, just to see it pass,
then I promise you finito at last.
So what ever comes, or come what may,
the Wigstars the man, let me hear you say,
Jingle Jangle, Jingle Jangle,
I'm all fucked up, I'm a fucking Spangle.
By Steven "Michael" Williams
Freedom of the Street
I met a tramp with a stomach cramp,
about to bang up a methadone amp.
He was hungry, cold, smelly and old,
had a runny nose from a smack addicts cold.
He justs wants to be warm.
Warm and stoned,
his blagging technique a fine art he’s honed.
Years of begging, robbing and skanking,
a loveless life but free of nagging.
He’s his own man, a man of the street,
living life light on his feet.
He don’t care that no-one else does,
he survives this life with a heroin buzz.
People may stare, spit and shout,
but the drink and drugs block it all out.
He sits on the floor, all alone,
Burtons shop doorway his very own home.
about to bang up a methadone amp.
He was hungry, cold, smelly and old,
had a runny nose from a smack addicts cold.
He justs wants to be warm.
Warm and stoned,
his blagging technique a fine art he’s honed.
Years of begging, robbing and skanking,
a loveless life but free of nagging.
He’s his own man, a man of the street,
living life light on his feet.
He don’t care that no-one else does,
he survives this life with a heroin buzz.
People may stare, spit and shout,
but the drink and drugs block it all out.
He sits on the floor, all alone,
Burtons shop doorway his very own home.
By DoubleDipped
Sweet Dreams
Sweet Dreams,
dreaming of you,
all dressed in blue,
pink or red,
whatever you wear, you’re in my head.
All night, I toss and turn,
hoping for that chance,
a kiss on the lips,
a midnight dance.
The moonlight weeping,
holding hands and making plans,
wedding bells and baby smells,
a partner for life with my imaginary wife.
I touch my cock.
sweet dreams turn to wet dreams.
I wake up covered in sweat,
but I’ll never forget.
That’s where she’ll stay,
in my head, but in my bed..
dreaming of you,
all dressed in blue,
pink or red,
whatever you wear, you’re in my head.
All night, I toss and turn,
hoping for that chance,
a kiss on the lips,
a midnight dance.
The moonlight weeping,
holding hands and making plans,
wedding bells and baby smells,
a partner for life with my imaginary wife.
I touch my cock.
sweet dreams turn to wet dreams.
I wake up covered in sweat,
but I’ll never forget.
That’s where she’ll stay,
in my head, but in my bed..
By DoubleDipped
Jobless Opportunities
Being on the dole,
what fun!
Oh the joy of signing on.
the pleasure of the unemployed,
the workers unite, the jobless destroyed.
Sitting at home, alone,
smoking bone,
chatting on my mobile phone.
I need drugs to pass the time,
maybe I'll go out do some crime,
meet a nice bird,
play a game of Cludeo,
join a gym,
learn Judo.
There’s a whole other life out there,
but do I care?
The whole world to explore
all those jobs to ignore.
I know what I’ll do instead
I think I’ll spend my life in bed.
By DoubleDipped
Dig It
Diggin, diggin, diggin deep holes.
In my arms, in my legs.
My head it swirls.
I feel the pin, and I feel the pain.
Mum I feel the sorrow,
And I feel the shame.
By Wigstar 2002
The Worried Man
If I don’t give a shit about myself,
how can I give a shit about other people?
Said the man to the drug counsellor
after he’d banged up another white hit
and took a sip
from the Valium linctus bottle.
Smack is my life,
I might as well be done with it,
marry it,
and let the bitch be my wife.
We all say shit we don’t mean,
and we all think shit we don’t say,
but leave that discussion for another day,
coz today is a quiet day.
If I got told I had cancer and had a month to live,
I would cut this implant out my gut,
and go back on the smack in a flash.
The choice is between living and being miserable,
or being high on a slow ride to die.
The counsellor sighed,
I nearly cried,
but with laughter.
What does he know?
About the reasons, the problems, the issues in my head,
maybe I’ll write another poem and show him when I’m dead.
how can I give a shit about other people?
Said the man to the drug counsellor
after he’d banged up another white hit
and took a sip
from the Valium linctus bottle.
Smack is my life,
I might as well be done with it,
marry it,
and let the bitch be my wife.
We all say shit we don’t mean,
and we all think shit we don’t say,
but leave that discussion for another day,
coz today is a quiet day.
If I got told I had cancer and had a month to live,
I would cut this implant out my gut,
and go back on the smack in a flash.
The choice is between living and being miserable,
or being high on a slow ride to die.
The counsellor sighed,
I nearly cried,
but with laughter.
What does he know?
About the reasons, the problems, the issues in my head,
maybe I’ll write another poem and show him when I’m dead.
By Doubledipped
Brown Bitch
I’m in love with a lady,
Her name is brown.
She consumes my heart,
Makes me forget,
Everything,
For a while.
But then I need her beside me,
Again.
I cannot live without her.
She scares me yet I cannot leave.
Together we will die
Hand in hand,
I fear that my funeral has already been planned.
Her name is brown.
She consumes my heart,
Makes me forget,
Everything,
For a while.
But then I need her beside me,
Again.
I cannot live without her.
She scares me yet I cannot leave.
Together we will die
Hand in hand,
I fear that my funeral has already been planned.
By Doubledipped
No comments:
Post a Comment