Royal Pavilion, Brighton. by ~youcando
Bonfire NightBonfire NightBonfire Night by ~youcando
Take a trillion pounds
Put it on the top of the
Bonfire pile.
Add effigies of Gordon and his cabinet,
Light the blue touch paper
And stand well back.
There'll be a lot of sparks,
Then a fizzle, then a BANG.
A coruscation of falling stars will follow.
Everyone will go Ooh and Ahh,
enrapped in the moment
It's the end of an era,
Enjoy this last show.
16.10.09
Dingleton youcando
'I write' by DingletonI write'I write' by Dingleton by ~youcando
I write words
I write out art
I write my life
And it writes back.
I write the seconds
The write the minutes, hours
The days, the months and
The years.
I write my past, my present
My future.
I write for a time and it writes back.
I write sure destinies
I write the saddest tragedy.
I write elation
I write depression
I write a small spark
I write raging infernos
I write white- the peace of nations
I write black- the desperation of death
disease and its drowning clutches.
I write blue skies
I write billowing clouds
I write the setting suns
I write the dawning light.
I write deluge
I write drought
I write oceans
The PanicIt hurts and i want to cryThe Panic by ~youcando
As i look and dream of normality
I look to the stars and wonder of the future
Try to paste down my words
As fear rips apart my mind and soul
The hunger burns but...
If i eat i'll chuck and hurt more...
But it fades and i find my smile
As everything returns to normal
Slowly the adrenaline runs clear.
It will return in a few hours but...
I will be fine i know.
Its all in my head where the demons go
Im smiling again cos i feel good
Im feeling normal the way i should.
Yea Toast
The WandererThe sky was grey with clouds of a passed storm and in one little sleepy village a man sat in it's station. A train rumbled by to the rhythmic sound of the wheels on the rails, white clouds poured from the funnel and drifted in a light breeze to leave the smell of smoke lingering in the air. The man sat on a cold metal bench it's paint peeling off at the edges and the weathered years rusting the exposed iron. The blistering cold wind ate at his skin but, was no deter from his task he continued as he sow shut his tattered jacket, the discovery of some chair padding he put it to good use insulating his jacket, for the long winter months ahead.The Wanderer by ~Pirate-Lepricorn
Love 
Sta.sh
