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Poetry, poetry

No. 3323


I haven’t written any poetry for yonks, as I’m writing a new Gheras and editing. Hadn’t felt the pull until I heard about Michael Bond’s passing. RIP
Goodnight Dear Paddington: A Migrant Even The Bigots Loved.

By C A Middleton © 2017
I have lost my closed-fist

compulsion to vent

No fury inside my spirit 

No roads inside hell bent.

I’ve become, for now, apathetic 

To how the world revolves 

As only technology evolves

And empathy dissolves 

Like grass blackened by acid rain 

And blood money on their resolve.

I used to care too much they said

It wasn’t good for the state of 

My head, they said

Calm down or you’ll be dead 

They said.

I ranted about the lack of care

In homes and hospitals 

That we dare 

To send or be sent 

When death and illness 

Gives us the stare.

It’s not our NHS anymore

It’s just a sign above the door

And on the uniforms I once saw.

Though now they scrabble

With the private pledge

For just a portion of the swedge.

Where is our Bevin?! Where?!

No hope for the poor now.

Not when in the cuntservative glare.

The above would lead me to direct

My thoughts and words at

The greed of members we elect.

Or at those we think we all select, but

Really secret hands are shook 

As crying families are 

Smashed and wrecked

By a 1% who doesn’t give one fuck.

Then today I hear dear Michael Bond

Has sadly left our soil.

He’s passed at 91, bless his socks.

I wonder now if it made his 

Blood boil

To see his country men recoil 

From needy people searching pastures new:

A place where bombs and

Massacres are few.

Lugging the last blanket and a shoe

Alongside their wide-eyed children

Scarred outside and right way through.

After all his little bear was 

A nervous migrant too.

I then remember 

I used to get angry about the 

Hypocrisy of finer toffs,

Sipping on their £100 broths

Whilst men who gave their limbs

Chew on flies and dusty moths

Hiding in shop doorways 

Covered in damp cloths and 

Newspapers with pictures of 

The ease at which 

Plastic celebs get richer 

Than all the rich

Yet, show the young only 

How to bitch.

‘Here look at my plane,

You ain’t got the same.

What? You bled for your country

Lost comrades for your cuntry 

What a fracking shame!”

Then there was the fury felt

At the way dear Mother was dealt

Blows on either side 

By the stupid folk who dwelt

Lucky to breathe and reside 

Upon ever spinning wheel of

Wondrous journey.

Her blue more black 

Each day that dies and 

Green now greyer

Than skin on a corridor gurney.

I wish I could get angry again.

But sadness is how I feel.

I wish I had no need to feel neither.

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About Chris42

I am a liar! A maker-uper of stories! If this was the 16 (c) I'd be burned as a witch. Fank goodness it is not, eh?! I have four children: two wonderful girls, a fantastic lad and Leeds United. I have no strict genre. I write children's poetry and stories, to edgy, stronger themes. Up until now I have stored them for my own and my family's viewing. Last year i thought bugger it and starred in several short films. One, Playground, which is on the BBC Film Network, used the monologue that I wrote for the audition. You should've seen the face of the receptionist, of the Manchester hotel, where the audition was being held, as I turned up dressed as the psychopath, Gordon. It got the desired effect! I then moved up to Cumbria and wrote and appeared in several live performances on stage. 2012. A local artist, Kayleigh Richardson, commissioned me to write a poem for her to paint a representation. I sent her, The Rise of the Robot Monkey Army. Kayleigh painted a fantastic piece that blew my mind! From that we are collaborating on the Jacob Bear series of stories. Oh and Two's Company is to published, along with seventeen other Sci Fi short stories as part of a collection. Not a bad start to the, so called, last year of the Earth. Now is the time to show the rest of you. I take my themes wherever i see them, whether in reality or dream-world. I hope you enjoy. If not tell me why. If so tell me why. Many thanks and be safe. So far I have published: Jacob Bear's first Christmas,https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007GK872A (UK) http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007GK872A (USA) Jacob Bear Goes to School https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007JD3OKY (UK) http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007JD3OKY (USA Jacob's First Words https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007VZWPSC (UK) & http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007VZWPSC (USA) Space Here https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007H96M90 (UK) &http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007H96M90#reader_B007H96M90 The Rise of the Sponge Cake Moon https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007WWZ16M (UK) & http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007WWZ16M (USA) © Madstoffa, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

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© C.p.Singleton, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Don't make me have to take the shirt off your whipped back if you break the rules! I will you know! Us writing folk work hard to make rubbish up for you to enjoy, so don't abuse or you lose! Tha's right!

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