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Poems from Nowhere

Poems from Vee X. Wednesday, 31 October 2012. Lament at Number Three. Come sit and play crap. At the table of life. If you play the wrong card. Then I'll put in the knife. Now butter my bread. With a sliver of spite. And we'll laugh til we're dead. From the booze and the shite. So get out the fiddle. I'll play you a tune. And the junkies will sing. By the light of the moon. And when you're half-dying. I'll send you away. With your kecks round your knees. As you're starting to pray. You'll say it's enough.

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Poems from Vee X. Wednesday, 31 October 2012. Lament at Number Three. Come sit and play crap. At the table of life. If you play the wrong card. Then I'll put in the knife. Now butter my bread. With a sliver of spite. And we'll laugh til we're dead. From the booze and the shite. So get out the fiddle. I'll play you a tune. And the junkies will sing. By the light of the moon. And when you're half-dying. I'll send you away. With your kecks round your knees. As you're starting to pray. You'll say it's enough.

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Poems from Nowhere | gravedigginpoetry.blogspot.com Reviews

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Poems from Vee X. Wednesday, 31 October 2012. Lament at Number Three. Come sit and play crap. At the table of life. If you play the wrong card. Then I'll put in the knife. Now butter my bread. With a sliver of spite. And we'll laugh til we're dead. From the booze and the shite. So get out the fiddle. I'll play you a tune. And the junkies will sing. By the light of the moon. And when you're half-dying. I'll send you away. With your kecks round your knees. As you're starting to pray. You'll say it's enough.

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gravedigginpoetry.blogspot.com

1

Poems from Nowhere: October 2012

http://www.gravedigginpoetry.blogspot.com/2012_10_01_archive.html

Poems from Vee X. Wednesday, 31 October 2012. Lament at Number Three. Come sit and play crap. At the table of life. If you play the wrong card. Then I'll put in the knife. Now butter my bread. With a sliver of spite. And we'll laugh til we're dead. From the booze and the shite. So get out the fiddle. I'll play you a tune. And the junkies will sing. By the light of the moon. And when you're half-dying. I'll send you away. With your kecks round your knees. As you're starting to pray. You'll say it's enough.

2

Poems from Nowhere: The Killing Fields

http://www.gravedigginpoetry.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-killing-fields.html

Poems from Vee X. Tuesday, 25 September 2012. Afghanistan: he'd seen some things had made. In the Bosnian war. Survival just a fluke. Now he's back on British soil. A crumbling shell of a man. His dreams of Afghanistan. In school they'd delivered careers advice,. The recruiting officer came. With tales of adventure. And friendship and life. And lies of becoming a man. He thought through once, He gave his name,. Read papers through,. The man in the khaki clothes seemed nice. Now he's getting all the blame.

3

Poems from Nowhere: September 2012

http://www.gravedigginpoetry.blogspot.com/2012_09_01_archive.html

Poems from Vee X. Tuesday, 25 September 2012. Like jumping out of a smoke-filled,. Blood mixed with unnarcotic. Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Links to this post. So you don't like it? You don't like my past? I ain't proud or unproud of it. Ain't dead or fucked up from it. Screw you with your Method One Maintenance. Your chin-up-looking-down-your-nose at me shit,. Fuck you with your. I never got addicted" shit. What makes you so better. Cos you never smoked a cigarette a. Yeah, I'm angry,. Soon, I wil...

4

Poems from Nowhere: Bitter-Not-Sweet

http://www.gravedigginpoetry.blogspot.com/2012/09/bitter-not-sweet.html

Poems from Vee X. Tuesday, 25 September 2012. So you don't like it? You don't like my past? I ain't proud or unproud of it. Ain't dead or fucked up from it. Screw you with your Method One Maintenance. Your chin-up-looking-down-your-nose at me shit,. Fuck you with your. I never got addicted" shit. What makes you so better. Cos you never smoked a cigarette a. Pound for every time I heard that,. Yeah, I'm angry,. Cos every day, another woman gets her kids. And you'd be the next to say. Don't give a fuck.

5

Poems from Nowhere: Higher Power

http://www.gravedigginpoetry.blogspot.com/2012/09/higher-power.html

Poems from Vee X. Tuesday, 25 September 2012. She dreams of the womb. But no comfort there. When from foetus was shoved down. And knocked to the ground. In vain she is crying. For someone to blame. In vain she is dying. Tie a knot in your pillow. And sing me to sleep. By the rivers of willow. Where red poppies weep. From birches she's grown. To respect in the fear sense. From fear she was grown. And he cuts off her shoots. And her buds as they sprout. And he buckles her petals. So words can't slip out.

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: Gypsum

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Thursday, 16 April 2015. 8220;I'm just going down the local shop to get some teabags. You need anything while I'm out? She shakes her head. 8220;Thanks love. See you in a bit.”. And he's out the door, straight into the car. It hits fast; his body flushes hot, feels it flow up his leg: up, up to his brain, that taste in the back of his throat like coming home and he knows he'll never stop at one. 8220;Make us a brew then, love”. Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way.

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: September 2013

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Friday, 13 September 2013. I was born here, you know, between this river and them train tracks. See? After what they’ve heard, I don’t blame them. They smile, they run off their hiya how are you huns with a different air. Or is that my imagination? Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Links to this post. Monday, 2 September 2013. Can I really write something from my phone? You never know. If so, this will be my worst post ever. Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way.

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: Hangin' up on Fear: Suspension Hanging Suicide Style.

http://gravedigginunderthemancyway.blogspot.com/2014/02/hangin-up-on-fear-suspension-hanging.html

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Wednesday, 19 February 2014. Hangin' up on Fear: Suspension Hanging Suicide Style. I'm sorry I've not posted for a while. I hope there will be a new post coming up soon. Imagine a human, suspended, mid air. By the flesh. Only the strongest, bravest, some might say most crazy individuals have the courage to attempt this ancient art. In the words of the incredible woman I'll be writing about: FUCK FEAR. Love and Inspiration,. Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way.

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: About

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Find me on Facebook. Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. View my complete profile. Http:/ www.gravedigginpoetry.blogspot.com. Http:/ tanyagrosswhitekettle.blogspot.com. Http:/ wildernesschicpoem.blogspot.com. Http:/ memoiresofaheroinhead.blogspot.co.uk. Memoires of a Heroinhead -. I hate my face, I hate this place,and I'm strung out again. My Own Poetry Corner. Living. Breathing. Creating.

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: June 2015

http://gravedigginunderthemancyway.blogspot.com/2015_06_01_archive.html

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Thursday, 4 June 2015. Then, carried across the cut's brown soup of sludge and shit comes the open strum of a single guitar. Notes bend as machine heads are gently adjusted into tune, followed by a series of melancholy chords, joined by a lone, hoarse voice. 8220;Aye, mi corazon, dime, pero dime dime di-i-i-i-i-meee”. The two men sit, face to face across the fire, clutching cups, stirring in milk and soft, dark sugar with brown-stained spoons. They sip their brews, s...

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: Badger Stew

http://gravedigginunderthemancyway.blogspot.com/2015/06/badger-stew.html

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Thursday, 4 June 2015. Then, carried across the cut's brown soup of sludge and shit comes the open strum of a single guitar. Notes bend as machine heads are gently adjusted into tune, followed by a series of melancholy chords, joined by a lone, hoarse voice. 8220;Aye, mi corazon, dime, pero dime dime di-i-i-i-i-meee”. The two men sit, face to face across the fire, clutching cups, stirring in milk and soft, dark sugar with brown-stained spoons. They sip their brews, s...

gravedigginunderthemancyway.blogspot.com

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: 'The Assimilated'

http://gravedigginunderthemancyway.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-assimilated.html

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Monday, 28 October 2013. What’s my name? Changed Memories and Observations on Cultural Identity. 8230;do not judge your fellow until you have reached his place. Herman Wouk; This is my God. Hiding, always hiding. I remember the words: don’t tell anyone you’re Jewish. Nobody told me why not. Just a child in nineteen-seventies small town England. DON’T TELL ANYONE YOU’RE JEWISH. Five short words, or seven. Am I the generation of disobedience? 8217; Defiant then as I am now.

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: April 2013

http://gravedigginunderthemancyway.blogspot.com/2013_04_01_archive.html

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Tuesday, 16 April 2013. Coming soon: Art from Vee. It's been a while, but I'm still alive. I'm no longer homeless and I've been able to invest in some art materials, having lost everything I own (yes, everything) when I became homeless. So I'll soon be posting some photos of my art, which will be available to buy. Sending you all much love and inspiration,. Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Links to this post. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom). Find me on Facebook.

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: November 2012

http://gravedigginunderthemancyway.blogspot.com/2012_11_01_archive.html

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Tuesday, 20 November 2012. It was one of those summers in the eighties where the dust sweltered into liquid rays. The Destructor, our name for the council tip, murmured quietly to itself, humming with flies and the putrescence of summer refuse. I held my breath when I could and tried not to use my nose. I’d sit, cross-legged, for hours, pulling steel snakes from black-oil pools and rub them rust-free with tattered J Cloths. I wanted them as bracelets, but I alw...And he ...

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Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way: April 2015

http://gravedigginunderthemancyway.blogspot.com/2015_04_01_archive.html

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Thursday, 16 April 2015. 8220;I'm just going down the local shop to get some teabags. You need anything while I'm out? She shakes her head. 8220;Thanks love. See you in a bit.”. And he's out the door, straight into the car. It hits fast; his body flushes hot, feels it flow up his leg: up, up to his brain, that taste in the back of his throat like coming home and he knows he'll never stop at one. 8220;Make us a brew then, love”. Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way.

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Poems from Nowhere

Poems from Vee X. Wednesday, 31 October 2012. Lament at Number Three. Come sit and play crap. At the table of life. If you play the wrong card. Then I'll put in the knife. Now butter my bread. With a sliver of spite. And we'll laugh til we're dead. From the booze and the shite. So get out the fiddle. I'll play you a tune. And the junkies will sing. By the light of the moon. And when you're half-dying. I'll send you away. With your kecks round your knees. As you're starting to pray. You'll say it's enough.

gravedigginunderthemancyway.blogspot.com

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way

Gravediggin' Under the Mancy Way. Tuesday, 7 July 2015. Breaking the bond: four heroin addicted mothers tell their stories. I started using heroin when I was in my teens, and I swear nicotine's harder to quit.' Alicia states, as she blows vapour from her electric cigarette. I ask her what flavour she has and if she's successfully switched from 'analogue' cigarettes. I pull out my secret stash of rolling tobacco along with my own e-cig and we laugh conspiratorially. We discuss the trials for prescription ...

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