the tattooist by zepharaya

the pincer movement begins moment on moment
from here to there from me to you
one point fixed on the here and now
the other seeing, feeling, reacting.
i want to lift it up, the here and now but, 
it's waited by action
the pincer rises but where it lands is
glancing, diverting, accepting, hurting or creating.
each point of contact leaves a mark and
tracing this is my mission.


Copyright © 2013 Zepharaya 
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where did you go? by stephen augustine

i understand the need for spiritualness
but what will you spare to achieve this?
family left with emptiness
i thought we were brothers
turns out we were friends no less
actions, actions extreme at best
desperate at worst
working within new confines
marriage of needs hearts and minds
"oh it'll be fine"
for a time
until you realise!
there's just good and bad
and YOU choose to do one more than the other
welcome back my brother
but may i ask

where did you go?


Copyright © 2013 Stephen Augustine 
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just write what comes to mind by latty

sometimes i'm too rash
drink to get smashed
show me a politician he'll get his face smashed
not feeling these politrick
these fools can suck a dick
their the reason why the country's in shit

call me the ghost rider 
your girl i'm up inside her
have to move in stealth 
you might be laying beside her
snake skin shoes and my fur-coat chinchilla
big pimp in the game diamonds bling cubic zircona

i won't sucka punch i'll punchline ya
and leave you with sunglasses to disguise the shiner
you know who done it blud
it was latty aka smoke1 aka reinforcer

all i want is money
happiness come
after i buy my mum's a house
and dad a range rover
supercharged with the sports kit all over
private licence private licence plate then watch him ship it to jamaica


Copyright © 2013 Latty 
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goldfish by shelley eastwick

drifting towards the edge of the murky canvass that they need,
my wisdom is too colourfully innocent for them to leave me free.
piercing my surface with their spears of hope and falsity,
their language reaches out to make me bleed instead of be.

and so I struggle forward like a goldfish in a storm,
screaming streams of questions like a child not yet born.

i mimic for the eye the tumbling, choking, downward spiral,
knowing that beyond this, possibility wears me like a smile.
drenching my senses with their waves of theory and industry,
they tell me that it is only my mental mirror that I see.

and so I struggle forward like a goldfish in a storm,
knowing that they cannot cage my ever-flowing form.

this equilibrium they are forcing fails to balance me,
for i know that this struggle is but a mask hiding the fears of the sea.
i have no inner turbulence.

no battle of me against me.
i just remind them of how sublime, and yet insignificant, we can be.

and so i struggle forward like a goldfish needing air,
but elsewhere i am merely washing goldfish from my hair.


Copyright © 2002 Shelley Eastwick 
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tossers by denis o'brien

this is a piece that i wrote about four years ago. it came about as a result of a creative writing lesson i was taking part in; the tutor asked us to put our hand in a bag and pull out a word, we were to then use that word as inspiration to write for 15-20 minutes (i always find this a useful exercise when i need a kick up the arse). the word i pulled out was 'sister' and at that particular moment in time my relationship with my sister was not a positive one, so i asked my pal who was sitting next to me if he wanted to swap, he immediately said yes, the word he had pulled out was 'golfball' and he had drawn a creative blank. the word 'golfball' for me, however, instantly invoked a nostalgic memory from my childhood. consequently, this poem literally spilled out of my pen onto the page; to use an industry phrase- it wrote itself. it was one of those extremely rare creatures that needed hardly any editing at all.

we was just kids

snotty little kids

with pennies in our pockets

out to shock, cause trouble

if authority spoke

we’d mock it.

pushing boundaries

with our bad manners

bad haircuts, bad breath.

just how much bad could we do?

waterbombing cars from the bridge

was great for a laugh

and good for a chase;

balloons exploding softly

across unsuspecting windscreens.

some drove on, some stopped

nobody ever got hurt.

mark riley, always the first to throw

and last to run;

riley rice ‘n’ peas

we called him,

our cultural stereotyping,

like us, in its infancy.

sundays- we snailed into church

strung along by youngish parents.

after stale mass us boys would meet,

while weary mums walked home

to prepare the roast, dads hit the

bookies, laying a tenner down at

fifteen-to-one on the holy ghost.

one easter sunday we marched

to the canal in our catholic best

mooching around in the shadow

of the bridge, as a wicked

concrete breeze cut by.

riley rice ‘n’ peas really pulled

it out of the bag that day

and split our little gang, forever.

a golf ball…

he rolled it in his sweaty beige palm

a golf ball…

with its cute little dimples

a golf ball…

just how much bad could we do?

Copyright © 2009 Denis O'Brien 
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quotable ish

this is a verse from one of my favourite lyricists, had me running to the dictionary as did many of the emcees i listened to when i was younger. this gives you a slight insight into what and who have influenced and shaped me into the writer/artist i am today

jeru da damja from a track called mental stamina from an album called the sun rises in the east

pugilistic linguistics
check out the mystics
real fantistic
you mean fantastic
fuck it you'll get your ass kicked
challenge my verbal gymnastics
vanacrobatics
vocabulary calisthenics
cant understand the mathematics
are esoteric
watch the style
but also peep the lyrics
my lightning my thunder
way back i stomp out hercules
but now i stomp out emcees
cant chill
because the sun dont freeze
heavy metal hard like titanium
alchemist i turn wax into platinum
you go get your handgun
psychokinetic forces
proceed to smash in your 
cerebellum
phonetician
with more stamina
than a christian
my mind c3 h5 n3 o9
like nitroglycerin
i bust as afu ra crush
clash with us and meet....

phlogging again

2013 mayan prophecy
never got we
random thoughts
posted randomly
lucidly i am psykoelucid see
psykotikally lucid
who's flows elusive
but on point like an arrow from cupid.



Copyright © 2012 Psykoelucid
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phlogging

just testing the blogger app on my droid
phlogging means phone blogging
on the train eavesdropping
at the conversations popping
different dialects non stopping


Copyright © 2012 Psykoe
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16

this was a task pushing my proverbial artistry

practically psykotik
pissing pon poor poets
poetically pushing 
poisonous penmanship
poisons posers
peeps perspire psykoanalysing psykoes phantasies
psykoe's perception promotes
perverted poignant prose
plebs pirate psykoe's poetry
poor photocopies poetasters
populace praise psykoe's paragraphs
proletariat's powerfullest poems
perplexing polemicist
presents pengest penmanship
perfect placement pens paper
produces psykoe's priceless paragraphs



Copyright © 2012 Psykoe
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