Wednesday, 14 May 2008

Old Poems from my blogs

09 May 2005

ok ok here goes

Now this is on the spot poetry for ya, I just made it up now!

Key Bored

"Ok Ok", Replies for the day,
Something more, something deeper,
"I know, I know" I usually say,
Something sore, something cheaper.

Reaching out, fingers touching,
Never holding, never grasping,
Screaming out, eyes listening
Speaking words and never kissing

"Hello Hello", words they all say,
Something warm, something feeling,
"Hugs, Hugs" still words they say
Something wet, something healing

I change pace when we meet
My poetry switch
Words from my mouth to your lips
I change my smile when we meet
Minus the bitch
Hands to your hands.
Lips to your skin.
Transfering the soul,
Through words from within,

(please 'scuse my grammer! I wll fix it pwomise x )


another poem

poetry from phone to page

This is a poem for all you Anti-Crazy frog, Anti- cutesie annoying ringtone!
(I doesn't bother me that much, I got a SOH!!!)

When Ringtones Ruled The World!

The ringtone, real tone.
Monocrome Death.
The high pitch, brain itch.
Left to twitch, left.

The Mozart, dead heart.
Turn to beeps and squeaks and tweaks,
Fade to whispers,
Fade to ears that deafness speaks.


07 June

Poor you, my dear.

It's all about thou,
Your pain pours down.
No sympathy, empathy,
To you we are empty.

Love to you now,
It still pours down.
Personallity, Lost to thee,
Play with them, play with me,
You're the centre of gravity.

Looking in the infinate mirror,
I see you in a film horror.
The hole that keeps us in,
Narcissism is your sin.
You're the first person shooter,
We live in your computer,
Win the happiness to fly,
You shoot us down before you die

You're so vain
You'll probably think this song is about you.


25 August

We knew you the hard way.

I cried today my heart melting more
when i saw in st. james the people who mourn
for Anthony Walker a kind hearted lad
who gave and was good and the rest of this sad
I never knew that good guy, and this is quite bad
that the bastards who killed him had
slaughter this boy for the colour of his skin
the stories the film the poetry and speak just to say YES we are all blood within

Scousers so friendly, so close and so tight
Through Disaster and Murder, poverty and strife
A place brought together by difference of race
The docks brought us here but this is a disgrace
That two young boys would take a life from this place

3000 people attended today
Those with no room stayed out in the rain
I viewed on the TV the eyes showed me pain
for thier son their brother and their friend
the Arsenal supporter and basketball lawyer
Befriending the loners and geeks
Someone I wouldnt mind knowing
but not this way.

ITs left a hollow in my heart
and confusion in my soul
that they murder and delete,
And for what? Colour control?

And although I am quite different
IN views and skin and ways
I am a good person, I hope,
And wish for happy days
And I hope, in your heaven, your dreams coming true
Helping others with a passion just like you were meant to do.

*This was written quite tearfully. I have never understood why a person could hate another just for skin colour, or beliefs or for clothes or taste in music etc etc. It worries me, who's next? what sort of people is our society bringing up? so many questions it raises and I could go on. But more I feel, even though i'm not religious and anthony was, who cares. He seemed a good person and it is the biggest shame that we had to get to know him this way*

Rest in Peace Anthony


ode to truth and snow
Current mood: Poetic

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."

I want to learn the truth to see the beauty,

Religious concrete stops us, working through

The wall that is before us,

Ourselves to self adore us,

We can find the vision of truth, more beautiful with proof.

When the sky is blue or grey,

What makes the truth of the day,

Less beautiful when you know,

That the invisible hand of gravity pulls down snow,

Under cold microscopes a snowflake shape,

Is more beautiful than the naked imagination could fake.

*pictures from

First 2 lines from John Keats' Ode on a Grecian Urn...for those uncultured lot!

And the rest purely my own!


23 Aug 2006

Blissfully Sinful
Current mood: bored
Category: Writing and Poetry

Little book of pictures see ,
The thumbnails of pornography,
The numbness that is seems to breed,
Everytime lust has to feed.

Listening to whispers slow,
The violence of language grow,
To Punishment and Smut,
You Bitch, You Whore, You Slut!

Feeling of the gentle touch,
To blood when it gets too much,
When the pain and pleasure mix,
Like addicts top the maximum fix.

Who wants an angel breeze,
When pig tails pulled at devils knees,
Imagination sores and flys,
While innocence is love and lies.

Simplicity is heavenly,
As is hardcore pornography,
As is a cuddle when the playing ends,
As is three or more playing friends!

Claire Smith 23-8-6



07 Aug 2006

Inside Out
Category: Writing and Poetry

we can't pretend that were not inspired
By the wingless angels spell
Oh well

You cant take the mechanical feeder
and take away our muses

And just because our sight is not the same
Don't tear us down from clouds

We see what you don't
Hidden in vaults
transmitted from soul atteners
We see the aura of worlds
hidded from eyes
inside the smallest string vibrator

Abstracted to show I can hide as well
Ideas not there until its past
I'll last


Ok so you may think poetry is emo, teenage angst or pretensious bull shit
but I'd be happy to explain my ideas behind that poem.

To read it think of it as not a linear thought but a sphere of random thoughts that collect to become a whole and no matter where you start on the sphere you will always see it whole in the end. That's why I love quantum shit! lol!



25 Jul 2006

seratoninly insane
Category: Writing and Poetry

I feel seratoninly insane,
There are forces in my mind and in my brain,
Working holes into me like my first cocaine,
And there's nothing I can do for it.

Withdrawal when I am all alone,
And aching for the voice from the telephone,
A yearning for the dark dark eyes to be shown,
And there's nothing I can to but wait

I have forgetten where i put it
My sense from my head pocket,
There are things in my eye socket,
Love has drugged and blinded me!

In mystical times I'd be taken,
Leeched, cut open and shaken,
Nowadays I'm just faking,
Coolness to hide insanity.

This is for Oli who literally drives me insane and messes with my body chemicals and makes me miss him when I want to be thinking about other things!!!!


30 Jun 2006

A short poem
Current mood: okay
Category: Writing and Poetry

My Ancester.

At the Sambre-Oise Canal
Did you see the Poet fall down?

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