Here's one of my favs from a man called John Cooper Clarke, I have a clip of this on my ipod so I thought I would share it with you all.

Kung Fu International

Outside the take-away, Saturday night
a bald adolescent, asks me out for a fight
He was no bigger than a two-penny fart
he was a deft exponent of the martial art
He gave me three warnings:
Trod on me toes, stuck his fingers in my eyes
and kicked me in the nose
A rabbit punch made me eyes explode
My head went dead, I fell in the road

I pleaded for mercy
I wriggled on the ground
he kicked me in the balls
and said something profound
Gave my face the millimetre tread
Stole me chop suey and left me for dead

Through rivers of blood and splintered bones
I crawled half a mile to the public telephone
pulled the corpse out the call box, held back the bile
and with a broken index finger, I proceeded to dial

I couldn’t get an ambulance
the phone was screwed
The receiver fell in half
it had been kung fu’d

A black belt karate cop opened up the door
demanding information about the stiff on the floor
he looked like an extra from Yang Shang Po
he said “What’s all this then
ah so, ah so, ah so.”
he wore a bamboo mask
he was gen’ned on zen
He finished his devotions and he beat me up again

Thanks to that embryonic Bruce Lee
I’m a shadow of the person that I used to be
I can’t go back to Salford
the cops have got me marked
Enter the Dragon
Exit Johnny Clarke

© JOHN COOPER CLARKE

The Eternal Monday

Return the the insoluable grid of dark mills

Where stones cut the heads of wheat

And a spike is driven through heels

So that a man's steps

Carve his earthern circle in a feral writhe.

We are nailed to the sonorous grave.

JD

Cancer

God drew her in pencil

Inside a broken frame

JD

Here's one for Fathers Day...

Dear old dad it's father's day
and I just want you to know
you're the best there ever was
at the things I'll list below:

Stinking up a bathroom
Snoring like a beast
Teaching me to mow the lawn
before I had front teeth.

Showing how to hide your feelings
Over-emphasizing winning
Teaching me the birds and bees
at a Cub game between innings.

Turning off our cartoons for
news and "Meet The Press".
Picking a vacation spot
where clowns could get depressed.

Never taking out the dog.
Forgetting my friends names



Picking at your nose while coaching
all my baseball games.

I guess as I grow older,
I'm supposed to get like you,
and in some ways I must admit
I think that this is true.

When I yell my veins pop out
I've yet to touch a broom
I chuckle in my Lazy Boy
when gas clears out a room.



But one thing you won't catch me do
as long as I can breathe...
That's wearing shorts around the yard
with dress-socks to my knee.

Life is like a mystery novel, with the pages spread out before you.
Hints and clues are given to you when a chapter of your life is finished.
When all the pages have been read and all the words explored you discover...
The mystery of life is death.
Written by me.  A bit maudlin, but I was a moody teenager. 

  hickery dickery dock,  freeze frame radio does rock, when a song is done ,watch the dj run! hickery dickery  Rock!     

  ty , sorrta made it up.  only poem i know is about dead swans floating in a pond with bits of flesh falling off.  it won a contest. so i read, and (watched) < clue

 fromthe book and movie  the hitch hickers guide,  when there forced to listen to the green guys bad poetry, the computer starts to tell you about other poets in the universe, one of them is a girl in england  who wrote about the swans ,another was about art and the lavetoryand i think the 3rd was about green goo in armpits .

Red City

awaking to the city lights

I grab a city coffee

Hearing the gateway people on the boulevard

aging

The cool bite of utopian fall

holds me awhile

and I hit the strings

like a sharp junkie kicked

in brittle neon

watching avenue engines cut street puddles

on this little knife wound of a planet

the eyes in all directions red

from smoke and bottle sting

I dig myself

into city culture

like a foreign root

whispering the old jazz

 

O.K.  This is one that I wrote when I found a lump.  I'm one of those people that works through my emotions by writing.  It's kind of...stark?  I don't know.  It might be too much, but I'm going to share it anyway. 

The Pain

Oh, God, the pain.

The pain of knowing that a part of me that makes me a woman, could kill me.

That a piece of me, where I nourished and suckled my child, gave them life, could send me to my grave.

The pain slices deep.

Deeper than the scars upon my breast.

Deeper than the pitying stares as my hair falls out in clumps.

It is almost more than I can bear.

If only’s run through my head faster than the chemo runs through my body.

If only I’d checked myself every month. 

If only I’d conquered my own fears and actually went to the doctor instead of making the appointment and canceling at the last minute.

If only…

A nurse is coming to remove the lines.

Why does she look like an angel?

Oh, God, don’t do this to me now!

I have children left to raise.

I have grandchildren to spoil.

There is so much left to do, so much to live for.

I release my held breath as she walks away and strengthen my resolve.

I must live.

I will live.

I will beat this.

God is the giver of life, but a woman has to nurture it.

I’m pushing past the pain, just as I did when my child slipped from my womb.

His first cries still echo in my head and I use them as an anthem.

I will live with breast cancer and I will beat it.

For him. 

For me.

I will live.

 

  you d%^&*  rite about that . ALL of you girls .

Hey Trish, what came of the lump?  Is everything OK now?

Joe Nemechek also does a lot of work for sick children...

   Kyle Petty  - victory junction camp   ( all drivers in on that one)