Archives of Pain

I wonder who you think you are
You damn well think you're God or something
God give life, God taketh it away, not you
I think you are the devil itself

Quote by: Mother of victim of Peter Sutcliffe

Wednesday, 24 February 2010

Writer's Block

The writer has hit a dead end,
His brain is numb,
His hands are bound,
His spirit is broken,
His mind is blank,
His inspiration has run dry,
His gift is fried.

The writer has lost his muse
Without her he's redudant,
He's a silent observer
He's a social commentator with a blind eye,
He's an attentive listener with deaf ears,
A hopeless loner with dead peers.

Unable to write the poet contemplates sucide.
To be treasured when he was living,
To be idolised in the afterlife.

But the writer cannot decide,
To figure out what to to write,
On his tombstone.
Ergo writer's block means illogical sucide.

Here lies Steerpike....

Friday, 5 February 2010


You are the agent of a bastard society.
You are the pawn of an ill-informed government.
You are the death angel of an intolerant minister.
You are the merciless executioner of a corrupt judiciary.
You are the mercenary of a flawed legislature.

You are menace and should be armed with a foam truncheon
You are a dumb, deaf and blind soldier with an itchy trigger finger.

When you remove that uniform.
Your still the same.
Trotters and all.
Curly tail between your legs.
You officer are a pig!