BLACKEST OF HEARTS

With voodoo

I slew you;

your life it withdrew.

I own you,

to intone and eschew

all that you do.

I trapped your mind

in a picture I drew

on a page,

which in a rage

I could rip

to hurt you.

Voodoo and Juju

Bones, mud and straw,

then Christian babies

in bits and in pain,   *

tortured in London,  *

for power and gain.  *

The blackest of arts

for the blackest of hearts

for the ignorant and poor

to suffer yet more,

as I writhe and twitch,

as your voodoo witch.

I own you!

And you are nothing.

A shell

in a box called hell,

yet the media ignore me,

for all is well.

* Smiling monsters1 ?

* Smiling monsters2 ?

* Child brought to London for ritual days execution

* Juju is strong in London

* Is Nigeria really moving on?

* Juju, Muju and Voodoo are still strong

JUJU Voodo VOODOO Zombie Child Abuse LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceau

OH WHAT A LOVELY WAR

This poem was inspired by the film "Oh! What A Lovely War".

The war wasted men,
the trench souls
and minds
puppeteer'd from above
by moustachioed children.

Rapacious rats
crawled over dead
zombies of patriotism
and thoughtless death,
as they enriched the soil with blood.

And the glory of death is remembered.
The warmth of sacrifice cherished.

For the good of peace
death was refereed by God
who was on both sides,
helping poppies to grow;
orange spotted with black.

One for each man:
dried blood stains
on the face of a gas attack,
picked in bunches
and held in a virginal hand.

And the glory of death is remembered.
The warmth of sacrifice cherished.

Start reading about the film and stage play here ...

QUELLE BELLE GEURRE

La guerre a gâché les hommes,

les âmes tranchées

et les esprits

marionnettiste d’en haut

par les enfants moustachioed.

Rats rapaces

rampé sur les morts

zombies du patriotisme

et la mort insensée,

comme ils ont enrichi le sol avec du sang.

Et la gloire de la mort est rappelée.

La chaleur du sacrifice chéri.

Pour le bien de la paix

la mort a été arbitrée par Dieu

qui était des deux côtés,

aider les coquelicots à pousser;

orange tacheté de noir.

Un pour chaque homme:

taches de sang séché

face à une attaque au gaz,

cueillis en grappes

et tenu dans une main virginale.

Et la gloire de la mort est rappelée.

La chaleur du sacrifice chéri.

WAR Warfare FIGHTING Armed Conflict WW1
Trench LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

WAR (Especially modern warfare)

Through the mists of time,
the shrouded depths of eons past,
come the cries of futility and war,
of fallen men, fallen empires
there is no more.
Through the experience of time nothing is learned,
nothing understood,
war kills, stifles, rots and maims;
there is no good.
A war breeds heroes
hate and vengefulness,
it fractures nations
and cosmopolitan in its progress
becomes more, "Couldn't care less".
War of today in these mists of time
indiscriminate with public to view,

could envelope the world of nations, 

families;

me and you.

Feb 17 2022 - Please Mr. Russia do not invade.

                       USA keep your nose out. 

                       UK stop pretending you matter.

Feb 21 2022 - Here we go! National military complexes with too much stock?

Jun 08 2023 - Is the USA escalating atrocity or merely de-stocking?

                        Is the USA wrong?

In 1965 Barry Maguire had an understanding of how this sort of thing can get out hand ...

Jun 11 2023 - Ukraine joining Nato is a WW3 trigger.

                         Pacts such as this started WW1 and WW2.

                         Still Ukraine want to join NATO

Jun 12 2023 - NATO avoid global repercussion of accepting Ukraine.

                          Ukraine must know NATO doesn't want their war ...

Sep 11 2023 - Oh no, these Two crackpots are talking - watch out!

                       

Here are links to some of my other war poems:

Poem 1

Poem 2

Poem 3

Here's a poem I came across by an artist called Mark Automation

SHALLOW GRAVE

The freedoms that we fought so hard to save
Are snatched out of our desperate grasping hands
And buried in an unmarked shallow grave

Despite our struggle, valiant and brave
They slowly seep away like hourglass sands;
These freedoms that we fought so hard to save

So helplessly we faced that tidal wave
And what became of all our hopeful plans?
They're buried in an unmarked shallow grave

The zealots fulminate and rant and rave
They seek to sabotage with their demands
The freedoms that we fought so hard to save

And when they gain the power that they crave
No clemency for any who withstand
Just burial in an unmarked shallow grave

And now we're little more than galley slaves
We blindly follow all of their commands
The freedoms that we fought so hard to save
Lie buried in an unmarked shallow grave

credits

from IMPOSSIBILISM, released January 4, 2023

Ukraine Russia Russian Invasion Ukrainian Suffering Russian Bastards, Keep out, WW11

OLD SOLDIERS NEVER DIE, THEY MERELY FADE AWAY (They die only when found)

For many days I've likened to death,
shot in the arm, the leg and the chest;
and laying on mud therein a ditch,
I've prayed for an end - to toss in my pitch;
but no-one's heard me - no-one's seen;
as I fight for death - to forget what's been.
I fight for death but she's taking her rest;
so I merely exist in my time of pain;
and I'll never die, I'll just exist,
I'll never move and I'll never stir,
for as long as mankind - I'll always be there.

Some soldiers were brought back

W

J nnbb

AR Warfare FIGHTING Armed Conflict WW1 Trench LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

FALLOW FIELD

This poem comments on promotion based merely upon 

aspiration, without regard to life's related sacrifices. 

I clawed the crumbling rocks.
Through the frosty mists I crawled
until spent and resigned to fail.
I cut my hands and tore my nails
for the ledge I had to find,
then finding I fell.
I awoke on my ledge to a feeling of loss;
cold: no more I viewed the fallow field
and lost I was, as up they came.
From my ledge they were small,
but having my scent they surged on and up
some falling, some jumping,
they thinned to a threatening few,
and panic with dread of losing my ledge
launched me to climb again;
higher and higher 'til my air thinned
where few could live
and to see the field was marred by the giddying heights,
but I saw the summit and I saw the man,
he beckoned as I wearily ran.
I nearly reached him; but too late,
or just not soon enough?
He jumped.
Plummeted to reality,
to life and friends in the fallow field.

Cake know what I mean

The start of it.
WORK Career Promotion Job LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

LUKEWALM WATER

Like water
I flow around you,
giving at every turn,
carrying you above the rocks
and trying to cushion your life.
But water dammed for too long
can overflow its banks,
drowning a person
in an eagerness to escape its confines,
and water cooled can freeze in time
until it too becomes a rock.

LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU 

WHAT DO YOU WANT?

As I sat before my desk

the sky cleared,

and the shadow of my raised pen
grew ever bolder,

as if rising through the surface
and then rhythmically sweeping a reapers arc
through any ideas of poetry.

Distracted through observation,
poetry became prose.
But then I froze
and slipped back to my lifelong desire
to make it rhyme,
to make it mine
to make my lines
sublime.

Divine.

Oh hell;
just stretch a bit of time
do a stanza crime
shove out some words
as valued as turds,
life statements
of time on a street
in a pub
eating grub
fucking a bird
acting the nerd;
following the herd
with undistilled words.

Witty can rhyme with shitty
gritty does not equal pretty,
eloquent is oft’ repellent,
but be it poetry or prose
be on your toes
'fore the wave of applause
with a tsunami clause.
From the audience that knows
You are on your own.
LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

Well Done? (Revisited)

Some of you may remember an earlier post regarding a work colleague fired for reasons that will remain obscure, but I am now happy to report that after a more formal review of the case he has been re-instated, to his former role.

Our working environment has changed greatly in the last year and I only hope my colleague can come to terms with their new strictures, having given up another job acquired following the original departure.

To those who temporarily ruined the aspirations of a whole household in order (it seems) to merely prove their department had teeth, I hope they can now suck on a final thought that had it not been for their farcical handling of this case, they would not have lost the business an equally able colleague who quit to pursue a career in a less flawed organisation.

Read this sorry saga from its start here ...
WORK Career Promotion Job LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

Park Rain revisited (Video & Back Story)

After a period of R&R (rage and rancour) I am getting back into this blogging lark by sucking the thumb of my own ego in order to bolster the defensive aspects of my personality (confidence and candour). I'd like to thank Elaine and the Governor for their patience and of course Wazbag, for her continued support, though I am not stupid enough to think I can wallow for much longer in this pool of ... whatever it is.

Since we last spoke, a video "short" of one of my early poems (PARK RAIN) has been released by its producer, Kirsty Clark, a popular videographer around here. I am hoping she will tackle another poem shortly, but for now here is the link to her YouTube video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ls6nGCmgyKE

Park Rain has a "back story" that comprised the earlier verses of the original poem, before I excised them in order to distil its emotional content. For the completists amongst my friends (John!) who nagged for the missing bits, they now follow.

http://laurenceaux.blogspot.co.uk/2010/09/park-rain-back-story_27.html

TUMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL

PARK RAIN BACK STORY

Amongst rustling trees

we slowly walked,

as the hum of the city

eased our silence.

Lazy rolls of distant thunder

and the chill of the night

were my friends;

drawing your hand to mine,

as we made for shelter.

We spoke of the future,

but a fear of change engulfed me,

for we would be apart,

maybe forever;

and the tear in my eye,

which I tried to deny

as a spot of rain,

rolled down my cheek

as you gently squeezed my hand;

then we ran for cover

as the heavens opened,

shrieking with our urgency ........

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ls6nGCmgyKE

PARK RAIN

The rain rodded down,

pock-marking the pond

as the moon shone

in a halo of colours.

Sheltered we stood

by a roof and our hearts

whilst the rain fell,

spitting to the ground

in a crackling dance

to a whispering breeze;

for the wind was light

as the feeling inside,

and I held your hand

as you held my heart.

You kept me from the cold,

for you warmed me from inside;

and I loved you then.

 

Looking for repudiation

BP = Blown Profits, Blown Pensions, Belching Poisons and Bloody Politics (of the American kind).

Personal thought - Though the press in general and the American senate in particular are having a huge bout of Schadenfreude (a perverse pleasure in the misfortune of others), those proud Americans, as usual, are seemingly in denial.

They own half of BP, which generates many of their pension "pounds", so they are taking collateral damage whilst berating the "British" face of this company with huge, impotent "Obamawords". They forget to remember that the destroyed rig was American owned (by a third party), American run and maintained, American designed and stocked with wholly American hardware, installed (incorrectly) by American sub-contractors to a plan signed off by the American government, who need to blame anyone other than their "own" American  people.

Sure this is a global cock-up and there is no doubt that the Americans on the rig were instructed by head office to save on costs, what international company has ever not said "save on costs"?, but was it those American managers (at rig-level) who went too far in the corner-cutting. They may have died, but were they to blame?

The "slick" offered up for slaughter by the BP board is a PR joke, who has as much influence as Obama (none at all!) over the delivery of the eventual fix for this leak. Obama has to jump up and down so as not to seem politically impotent, whilst our "British" friend has to stonewall because no-one (yet) has any idea of how this beleaguered company will actually get to the beginning of the end-game of this disaster.

The only good thing on the horizon is that America will finally question and address its love affair with oil (hopefully).

UPDATE (6th Feb 2018): Obama out, lunatic/visionary/paradigm shift/narcissistic criminal in (Trump) and BP is now back into big profits:  Fourth quarter profit in 2017 was $2.1 billion, even after another charge of $1.7 billion for the 2010 Deepwater Horizon ecological disaster.

Is there interest in your life?

So where are we now? - June and the weather is as shit as my general mood these days. This year has thus far seemed to be a downer; work, home life, earnings and social life not quite fulfilling whatever need or restlessness that is growing within me.

Maybe I should forget the thought that in the second half of my life I can have the luxury of waiting for people to impress me, after trying thus far to get-on with others (by trying to impress them?). Perhaps I should come to terms with the fact that the vast majority of people just do not give a toss about anything, or anyone, beyond their nose end; their sheer laziness is the reason that nothing appears to be satisfying me at the moment and that my earlier, perhaps delusional life, is the one that "suits" me best.

I was the nice guy; the guy who gave ground, the guy who ran around after others, the guy who desired interaction, feigned interest in strangers, while wishing to serve, as if to affirm my place in the scheme of things; when in reality I am a servant to my own life, possibly blinkering myself to the truth of life by "being busy". Fuck me - I feel miserable right now (Thanks Morrissey).

OK,

don't cry for me (Argentina),
'cos I've never loved you,
you do not know me,
you are just a reader,
a faceless party,
to witness boredom ....

Someone (dad the wise old bugger) once said to me that life is like a bank account - you have to put something in to get some interest out and that the more you put in the more you will get back, but that the real trick is to find "banks" (people) that are best for you, whose interest is high or closest to that you desire.

I am gonna switch to "banks" who are trying to be more nice to people, rather then just staying in my bed whenever possible to avoid a wrongly perceived assumption that people offer me nothing, so I offer them nothing.

I still feel miserable, but hopefully things may soon feel better. The poetry "gig" seems to be progressing and gives some satisfaction, my wife will soon be home from overseas and I might just get to spend some of my wage this month before others do it for me.

Bye for now - I'll be back........

11th Oct 2018 - should have got off your arse and stopped feeling sorry for yourself earlier boy!

Try this ....

WORK Career Promotion Job Miserable Wanting LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

Where have I been?

Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends, I'm so glad you still attend, as I turn another bend, come inside - come inside! (Also thanks to ELP from whose album "Brain Salad Surgery" I have just gratuitously nicked some lyrics.)

So, where have I been for the last month? Beats me - but I'm glad to think I'm coming back to a world of happy shiny people (thanks REM), even if the love shack (B-52s) seems to have shut down again. Let me explain ....

Life is busy at the moment - work, poetry, the odd night out, correspondence with friends, planning for change both at home and in France, making cash stretchy in order to do what it should do (pay bills) rather then abandoning responsibility by shafting myself with a greasy pole of "cheap credit". You know how life can be at times - BUT IS THIS ALL THERE IS?

Does life ever get interesting for a white "middle-England", middle-aged, balding fat-git money machine that merely seems to exist to hand-over whatever is "earned" to others? Am I in mid-life crisis? Male menopause or chronic depression? Or just getting through life like many others who also think that there must be more to life then this; the ennui is strong today!

Where is it in me, for I am not sensing it, the feeling of satisfaction I expect by playing by the rules, by attending to my familial needs, paying all my bills on time, never asking the state for anything (other than unemployment benefit for 3 weeks during a near continuous work history now standing at 34 years) , nor causing distress by being anti-social or criminal in any way?

Where the hell is my satisfaction - I want it now! Oh - here it is now

Anyway - thanks for sticking with me so far and just to prove that I have not spent my whole life in a pit of gloom, may I offer another recent poem that I was asked to write for an upcoming programme of events that will celebrate the influence of the UK city of Kingston Upon Hull (aka "Ull") upon current and former residents, including the celebrated poet Philip Larkin.

Learn about 'Ull ...

WORK Career Promotion Job LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

HULL

Hull is not a rat-race.
Hull is a nice place.

Hull is not chav-town
Hull has thrice a crown:
a king’s town.

Kingston Upon Hull;
Larkin land,
full or Tigers, Robins and Earlie birds,
and parks and memories of Quakers as great as the Fry’s,
not the Whitefriars
nor the rare Blackfriars
nor those of the Land Of Green Ginger,
but Reckitts and Ferens,
Needlers and Sizers
bobbers and jobbers
dockers and packers
trawlermen and lightermen,
independent spirits one and all.

Hull is a king's town.
Let no-one put us down!


Read some facts about Kingston Upon Hull here … and here

Can you speak 'ull?

LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

DEDICATED TO T.P.

This night is as quiet as you,
as cool as the feeling inside,
and the skies as clear as free space
in your thoughtless apathy.

A warm bed is protection,
wombed from the world
in fragile contentment,
but the child is born,
expelled to the world
and struggles to survive.

You will be born,
as surely as nature's inevitability,
alive or stillborn,
for you must develop
in your eiderwomb,
if you are not to die.

Now Read The Truth Of This ....

LAURENCEAUX NCEAU 

MR. AVERAGE?

Mr average

Mr median

Mr middleman,

Mr standard deviant

Mr mean root squared,

Mr miserable

Mr lost

Mr too old to change?

Mr unsuccessful

Mr not to fail

Mr worried like hell today

for Mr off the rails.

WORK Career Promotion Job LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

DEATH

The inevitability

of the blind-date with death

is a man's solace in life,

a final escape

to a permanent engagement

and marriage in the house of God.

GOD Heaven Death UNION Solace LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

Oh my God I'm still not famous!

You may remember from an earlier blog that I was lined-up for a poetry reading session for a local radio station. Well, I attended that and having spent just over two hours there I can report that my expectation never happened. Sure I read one poem, but then so did many others. The meeting was not as I expected it to be, but none the less enjoyable enough to wish to return for the next "recording" session.

My surprise was an Iraqi immigrant rapper call Mohammad who took one of my poems to rap - I was promised a copy of the final product and if I get it you can hear it. If you wish to read the poem,  That's Life, there is a copy in an earlier blog.

Joe Hakim and Mike Watts, local poets of repute who now obviously wish to expand their public service roles did an excellent job of selling their current project; a vocal / radio celebration of the life and time of the great Hull poet, Philip Larkin, on the 25th anniversary of his death. They want local people to voice, in poetry, their experiences of Hull itself, whether as a visitor or resident (past or present).

I rarely write to order but when asked by Joe to give it a go here is the result - some of my memories of a near lifetime in Hull.

THIS IS 'ULL ...

CHILDHOOD Playing LAURENCEAUX England LAURENCEAU Lawrenceaux LAWRENCEAU Laureanceaux LAURANCEAU Lawranceaux LAWRANCEAU Loranceaux LORANCEAU Lorranceaux LORRANCEAU POETRY Prose POEMS Social Comments HUMOUR Humerous SMILE Smiling LAUGH Laughing LAFF Laffing CYNICAL Truism TRUISMS Welcome HULL Kingston-Upon-Hull Kingston Upon Hull KINGSTON-ON-HULL Kingston On Hull YORKSHIRE East Yorkshire HUMBERSIDE Yorkshire DEPRESSION ThisISUll FED-UP Pissed-Off LONELY Disgruntled DISSOLUSIONED Blue BLACK Thinking BLOG Blogger LYONEL

THIS IS 'ULL (Upton Street)

The firm leatherette feel of well rolled tarmac
and it’s once warmed smell,
and the blackened knees and hands
of interaction
are familiar prints in my galleried mind.
A grey playmate;
a giver of second-hand chewy
and ciggie ends,
uniquely flavoured
but eagerly sought for secondary use
or swops.

Our street,
our Hull street
was our street,
not for Courtney street's gang,
not Mucky Buckies
nor Montrose's
it was our Upton Street,
a dead end street
of clean houses
of clean people
in clean beds
and mucky, happy kids.

Hull was a small place
till I was 11 but I never knew it,
our world was our street,
our wood yard at the dead end
our "farreey" across the drain
where trains and girls could be explored
in equal measure,
ducking down in the long grass
if anyone came.

I didn't know that I lived in a city called Hull,
but I knew my friends,
their parents and Johnny Greensides
who owned the only car.
and the original Mitchell brothers
on their rocker bikes,
hero’s in leather and white scarves.

I was happy in Hull.
I am again happy in Hull.
Even the immigrants are happy in Hull
’cos we are Hull,
we are Kingston Upon Hull
and proud,
proud to know most people;
southerners and media,
even Yorkshire people
don't really know us well,
'cos 'ull is our secret,
a hoard of decent friends.

For reads who may have lived in Upton Street, off Dansom Lane, I have found the following Facebook entries.

One,  Two,  Three

Personal comment - someone came across this poem and made the following comment on Facebook

From  Linda Franks (nee Wildbore) - I lived down Upton Street with the Greensides, the Hewitt's and the Hairsine's . We lived down Rosedale Avenue, where the backyard backed onto a passage and then onto the woodyard. Great times there, playing double ball on the house walls and hanging on to the boot of a car, with our skates on,  for free rides. The Mainprises, the Mitchells and the Moores lived down Primrose Terrace, the Moore's being the last house down there next to the Church in the next street (Courtney Street). Brings back memories.

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Sex, Sex, Sex and then just a bit more sex

Maybe because of my age, or a growing awareness of the ages of my four granddaughters, I am becoming sensitised, almost to a point of anger, to the constant drip-drip of overt and overly sexualised images and attitudes that we are all exposed to by "the media". Maybe I am just becoming an old git?

The lazy, easy-money sales pitch that sex(ynes) is all we need to be successful, appreciated and happy, even normal, is seemingly becoming more prevalent, whilst the further assertion that to be "sexy" you have to be young and thin is almost as obscene as the constant exploitation and pitching of aspirational sex(ynes).

Anyway - I'm not sure where to go with this blog so I've posted a poem (from long ago) when tenderness and affection did not require an obligatory fist of fun. (Wink Wink - know what I mean!)

Speaking Hands ...
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SPEAKING HANDS

The tender clasp of hands in love.

A combing hand,

a caressing hand,

the tear-trickle of a finger

on a ruddy cheek,

slow movements of tenderness

with the faintest touch

expressing pure love.

No worldly experience;

entwining fingers

searching for oneness;

open hearts joined in touch.

How little cannot be expressed.

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Radio Blah Blah

I have recently spent time selecting poems for slots on a local radio station's equivalent of "Poetry Please".

Along with nineteen others I have been asked to read several of my poems and to then "discuss them" for a run of six weekly shows, so I am feeling rather chuffed with myself.

Having trawled through my stock I have come up with a varied bunch for the show, one of which will be PROPHECY.

Written at the start of a relationship as a predictive "warning", it proved me to be clairvoyant.

You need big balls to make prophecies

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PROPHECY

(The Meet .....)

The warmth of expression
you share  with me
is the fear of loneliness
forever to be.

The tenderness we show
is our dream of compassion,
escape from our lives
automaton fashioned.

Fragile, desiring,
needing to touch,
be careful my friend
lest we desire too much.

(The Middle.....)

We give too much,
too much of everything
to hide our sorrow,
to keep us together
we give to the exclusion of others
giving what little we have
to deny inadequacy,
to delay our loneliness for one more day,
but caressing the hallow relationship
we cry with fear.

(The End.....)

Frustration is the enemy,
the lack of conversation
the lack of substance
in the indolent marriage,
two strangers
cross-talking help,
unable to take or receive
so hard do they try to give;
until there is no more.

(The Epitaph.....)

Give but take
loving or annoyed,
talk but listen
and discover yourselves!
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Well done? II

And so the dominoes start falling....

The recent demise of a former colleague has precipitated the departure of another who has decided, not unreasonably, that doing two jobs is not much fun after several months of "helping out".

Good luck in your new job Louise, you will be missed by the guvner and me.

See How Things Turned Out ...

Beat the clock

The 70's pop band Sparks once sang - "You gotta beat the clock, beat the clock", so here's a challenging time waster that invites you to beat this clock.


RULE:
Draw two straight lines on the clock face so that the sums of the numbers in each part are equal.

HINTS: Scroll down this post to get hints and then the answer.




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HINT#1:
2 lines across a clock face will give 3 sections, whilst 2 crossed lines will give 4 sections.

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HINT#2:
Add up all the numbers on the clock face and consider some divisions of that number.
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ANSWER:
2 parallell lines divide the face into 3 sections, 78/3 = 26 so each line must bound a count of 26.