poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com

Poems of The Underclass

I Am We Are Animal. The orgasm still in your eyes. Beginning to shrink, now. And did you know. While looking at the wall. As you held me. It seemed so carnal, you know. As meat-eaters We are. And I felt like a fraud. Because I wanted to write. And, I know. You didn't come here for that. I am obsessed with words, NOW. Only because we are dying. These words will be. All that will remain. April 12, 2012. I was animal today. Words by Shane - Memoirs of a Heroinhead. When they come to get us My Love. That I c...

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Poems of The Underclass | poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com Reviews

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I Am We Are Animal. The orgasm still in your eyes. Beginning to shrink, now. And did you know. While looking at the wall. As you held me. It seemed so carnal, you know. As meat-eaters We are. And I felt like a fraud. Because I wanted to write. And, I know. You didn't come here for that. I am obsessed with words, NOW. Only because we are dying. These words will be. All that will remain. April 12, 2012. I was animal today. Words by Shane - Memoirs of a Heroinhead. When they come to get us My Love. That I c...

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Poems of The Underclass | poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com Reviews

https://poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com

I Am We Are Animal. The orgasm still in your eyes. Beginning to shrink, now. And did you know. While looking at the wall. As you held me. It seemed so carnal, you know. As meat-eaters We are. And I felt like a fraud. Because I wanted to write. And, I know. You didn't come here for that. I am obsessed with words, NOW. Only because we are dying. These words will be. All that will remain. April 12, 2012. I was animal today. Words by Shane - Memoirs of a Heroinhead. When they come to get us My Love. That I c...

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poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com

1

Poems of The Underclass: Home...

http://www.poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com/2012/02/home.html

Where you know what lurks between the paving stones. Where you know what dribbles out the drainpipes. Where you know what rushes through the gutter. Where you know the slime in the brew'ry alleys. Where you know the graffiti tags on the street signs. Where you know the stickers on the lamp posts. Where you know the lead on the roofs. Where you know the locks on the windows. Where you know what is in the bin. Where you know what blocks up the public toilets. Where you know the taste of the traffic. Where ...

2

Poems of The Underclass: The Dawning

http://www.poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com/2012/02/dawn-of-time.html

Across the Shag-pile carpet. I turned my head. Looking over my hunched back. Which had been my shield. As I played Solitaire. On the floor alone. Little John was sitting. On the edge of the bed. Lolling off to his left. In just his socks. Trying to roll a cigarette. Queer shadows altered his face. And disclosed the truth. I saw things in him. Which I'd never seen before. The real reason as to why. He'd asked my nine year old sister. I think he was looking at me. Tho it was hard to know for sure. Words by...

3

Poems of The Underclass: A Letter Home to Mum (From Exile)

http://www.poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com/2012/01/letter-home-to-mum-from-exile.html

A Letter Home to Mum (From Exile). It's almost seven years I'm in exile now, scared to return for fear of what they'll do to me if caught. But God, what I'd do to share just one last crack-pipe with you, or to wait at the window with the jitters, watching for a car to pull up and a small hooded black boy to get out and stroll over our way, through the front gate and ring the buzzer: 21b. Like when we speak on the telephone and say "Buh Bye! I do It seems like a good memory now. Words by Shane - Memoirs o...

4

Poems of The Underclass: The Unknown Poets of Crazy Town

http://www.poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com/2012/03/unknown-poets-of-crazy-town.html

The Unknown Poets of Crazy Town. And in the Black House of Youth. I sat down with unknown poets. And not one said “I am a poet! For not one knew he was so. As no-one could write. Never a single word was ever written. And one was the illegitimate black bastard. Child of Margaret Thatcher. And another had Royal Blue blood. And one had ground his teeth away. And another had stabbed tribal scars into his face. And one had a wooden leg. And another a glass eye. And one lived in the roof. And one was a murderer.

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Poems of The Underclass: City of Joy

http://www.poemsoftheunderclass.blogspot.com/2012/02/city-of-joy.html

I walked in the city of joy today. And broke down at the carousel. Then kicked a man. Who had no legs. Who made small money playing chess. Or more to say. He played some chess. And to his left. A sign that read:. Hepatitis B and C. Two dogs and a canary. I walked in the city of joy today. And broke down at the carousel. Words by Shane - Memoirs of a Heroinhead. 8 March 2012 at 18:46. Swings and roundabouts eh pall. Enjoy your writing.Georgina. x. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). I Am We Are Animal.

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Poems of The Underclass

I Am We Are Animal. The orgasm still in your eyes. Beginning to shrink, now. And did you know. While looking at the wall. As you held me. It seemed so carnal, you know. As meat-eaters We are. And I felt like a fraud. Because I wanted to write. And, I know. You didn't come here for that. I am obsessed with words, NOW. Only because we are dying. These words will be. All that will remain. April 12, 2012. I was animal today. Words by Shane - Memoirs of a Heroinhead. When they come to get us My Love. That I c...

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