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Poetry to end poverty by Four Walls for Freedom Campaign

A collection of poetry contributed by people who believe in our idea to end poverty forever. This idea can be found on www.boutiquebrighton.info

Please note that the views expressed by these poets do not necessarily represent the views of the 'Four Walls for Freedom Campaign'. We support free speech and have thus not edited any of them.

You may redistribute this collection of poems as long as you do not change or edit it (including the introduction). Feel free to tell people about our idea to end poverty or come up with your own idea that works even better.

Here's our idea to end poverty in short:

0.5% tax on foreign exchange transactions worldwide, raising over 1 trillion per year.
Employ most of the poor people in developing countries with this money to build houses and related infrastructure for themselves. These houses would be given free to the poor.
The stimulus of the 1 trillion per year to developing countries kick starts their economies and makes the price of houses start to rise.
As the house price goes up, the poor become rich.

There are numerous processes that would go into effect and quite a bit of theoretical reasoning why this would work. Find out more and join us on our website, www.boutiquebrighton.info

Poetry Collection

Untitled

In summer you force yourselves
Upon us. All about a wild
Haze of leaning lust and
Afrodisiae. Pollen smudged bark
And pungent air, soft little
Tendrils and ravishing hair;
An old master's palette upon
Which I idly do stare. The gnarled roots
They thrive, their branches
Cleave cleansed air whilst
I just sit here watching
From someones old chair.

A wanton cornucopia of
Sublime delights
I know I feel yer
And I'll miss these long nights

Your sound is your scent
Your touch won't relent
Your vision for one person
Only is meant.

Divorce

i walked into an empty house
a void of a room, a place of marriage doom
for immortal love here had been doused
the thread of conversation from a broken loom

on the table was a picture brass frame housed
of a happy bride, a poignant groom
their faces did not foretell the breakdown roused
of divorce found ever too soon

on the bedroom dresser lay a broken wedding dress
and dead flowers wilted in a vase of oily cess
the place was a jilted mess
and all there was less

her name was Tess
that's all

Untitled

Does a butterfly
Recall imago
And pupae
Just like yesterday?

A frog fantasise
flippantly about
Old spawn and it's
First murky dawn?

A dog pine
The dull bark
Of a log it pissed
Upon yesterday?

A swan it's shell
Long dissolved
And disseminated
Down the river?

I doubt it but
I wonder because
The blackbird sings
The same song
Dusk after dusk
From fermenting husk
To dissolving rust.

World Views

World Views and language games
They made a society go up in flames
The tragedy of warring nations
A worrying and troubling destination

Like a pop song they had no weight
Like an astronaut atop the moon
They came with bombs and hate
And bring our lives to an end soon

But what is the reason for a culture going to war
Is it the hurt, the anger that makes them sore
Is the idea of them and us a truth to be told
Or is it that our lives have for oil been sold

The vagaries and superfluous lies of the politician
Are matched by fundamentalism and superstition
Yet there is no hope without a lasting solution
There is no silver bullet or salving lotion

Football

The football craze begins to stir
The players dodge and turn to be a lure
We must win in this world war 2006
All our troubles it will fix

Football, football, football, football
They come short and tall
To the field of play that represents a world's events
To the leaders this submission is heaven sent

There is no scene of greater love
No romantic film that can bind men as one
Than a primate fight that takes one's sight
And elevates those who are not bright

Lines written upon Brixton Hill

Are empty,
Without sound
Effects.

So as
I write.
I listen

To the swirl
Of sirens
And blue flashes
That ignite
The streets below
Where hooded
Shadows lope
And shape shift
Along littered pavements
Heckled by whores
Who loiter provocatively
In patent leather
Their bruised flesh
Exposed at the height
Of winter.

I like it
Up here
In my box;
My window's Eye;
A pinhole camera
That catches all
That goes by

Like an insomniac's
Nightmare.

Certain Songs Ring Bells

Certain songs ring bells
"We are together"
Disperse lingering hells
"All people unite"
Bring water up from dry wells
"Let love grow"
This song a story tells
"Stay together........."

For we are forever
Ignorant of time
A moment never
Wasted for
What is yours
Is mine
And together we shine, shine, shine.

"We are together"
Hopefully forever
"All people unite"
Today and tonight
"Let love grow"
So that we'll
"Stay together".

For we are forever, forever
Aware of what
Is yours and
What is mine
Whilst constantly ignoring
The give way sign
Yet somehow together
We shine, shine, shine.

Lust

Lust, it is loves neighbour,
but it does not covet its neighbor's goods.
Lust, it is an unrelenting tide
in and out, a man's labour.

As birds do come and go
Flying then roosting
As the sun begins its journey and ends, so
Lust is never sated with a feasting.

The moon yawns high above, as below,
In the boat of the lovers it does row,
Yet comes lust like ivy, enveloping slow-
And intertwined they fail to each other know.

Carrion clawing vulture, is lust to the Christian
Yet others in the East, see lust as a hopeful bastion
War is created by lust -
In this surely we can trust.

Whilst drowning I become a fish

Eyes open-
External,
Physical,
Reality shapes....
Emotion.

Eyes closed-
Inverted;
A disguise
As emotion
Shapes a reality....

Somewhere else,
But not
Elsewhere.

Alone but
Not tearing
Out my hair....

As subtle shades
Replace
Slick shadows....

Shed the straight jacket
And leap free.

Whilst drowning
I become fish...

Water swills
Around my new
Found gills.
Weighed down
By the liquid
That fills
My aqualungs
I free fall
Front crawl
And merge with
The cyclone squall...

Fathoming new
Depths of
Free forming dna
That belongs
To a time
That knows
No day.

Gut wrenching hell

Gut wrenching hell
Stomach churning
Like a church bell

Crazily messed brain
Ideas jangling
Like a possessed bunch of keys

Sick sick senses
Depraved and concave
Prone and prostrate
All tenses rave and frustrate

Ego marooned and becalmed
On the fringe of a mendacious storm
Your rules have shattered any norm
Raw sensation sensuously balmed
In your bliss.

You slowly take over with a hiss hiss hiss.

You said

You said, "Have I done something wrong?"
"No"
We are just ordinary people
In a crazy circumstance
With a need to circumspect
No need, as of yet,
For any mutual respect
Who knows......perchance...
One day our lives may meet properly
And then we may dissect
These petty, negative feelings
And superimpose positive healings;
God willing,
No tears;
Just lovely, natural, feelings
Oh how I suppose and hope so;

Just like the flower longs
To grow and grow
Before the hoe
Sheers its subterranean seed in two.

Shelley's mirror

Isis wed mercurious
and all was well
the world became clear
as Shelley's mirror would tell

the love that holds together
the atoms of the body
is a knotted plot
to get the world ready

beyond the ken of mortal man
but within the eyes of mortal woman
is the spirit that talks
the anima of Jung
it sings a musely song.

Lust again

Lust, Lust Lust,
It's such a bitch,
Damp tortuous nights nights dreaming,
About some girl who's actually a witch.

Lust Lust Lust,
It's all a bit Sh!t
Endless mental energy spent,
Result? You look a complete tit.

Lust Lust, Lust.
Here we go again
One smile, one look, one pair of shapely legs,
And you locked in the Bastille of Pain.

Lust Lust Lust
Lust after the small,
Who bloody needs rumpy pumpy,
When you've got Bastard SCRUMPY!!!!

Lust again and again

The problem with Lust,
Is that it is Boobs or Bust!
Nothing will satisfy the quest
Like coping a grope of a breast.

Open or wrapped sir?
As long as you squeeze her,
The 'undercover' lover is just as sweet,
As the totally un-packaged treat!

Dodge that bra, with your wrist
Here comes the surprising twist!
It's not getting you and in that's Hard,
It's getting it out again before she has a mard!!!

to Lebanon

will anyone remember you
child strewn across the road
have you got anything to do
play, jump, laugh, go to the loo

violence is justified against civilians
says bin laden
but then so does Ehud olmurt
on civilians is the burden laden
it is they who get hurt

the buildings which once were networks of people
now like a desert, deserted, a curt reminder of power
the mosque gone, no more the church steeple
can a world in troubles go any lower.

Whisper

Whisper-
A breath of love in despair
Whisper-
In, out, the soft tide of warm air

I feel the strength of hope and lies
Inside my mouth as the word dies
The heart, the soul, it needs a scriptwriter
In agony I wonder if I can be a fighter

Two people sit together and tell nothing to each other
Yet these nothings are short aspirations, of what they could be together
The hills, the trees, the lines of clouds, the heather
The world is perfect, the sun, the holy weather

Can I muse or amuse and not lose
Is this poem a great big ruse
Whose poem is this, whose
Can you really choose

The meanings that come from sentences
Are like a jail with walls as tenses
Envelope yourself, cover your senses
In a war on tremours of the soul, you sitting in the trenches.

Politics

politics is theatre
as all the worlds a play
but war is politics by other means
as Clausewitz would say
so what is the theatre of war?

WAR and peace

the world was born of peace
it's creator rested after the effort of making it
but now all that has ceased
and the earth has gone to shit

bombs rail overhead and underneath
the suicide killer, the USA daisycutter comes down from the plane
is this the answer?

verse becomes tease
and i would prefer curry with peas
for the terse verse is in reverse
and bin laden's messages ring overhead like cluster bombs

killing has become normal
and the creator would be crying
on his cross, on his crescent, in the Buddha pose
and sit alone and be all a sighing

for with war we only lose
but there is a glimmer of hope
for war must always end
it just depends when.

Plathos

The kitchen blade
will snicker snack
My puny wrist
A moments sharp pain
Will end
In eternal bliss.

These are the thoughts
These are the feelings
That hiss hiss hiss.

The little jellies
Will slide and slip
Down down down
My rabid throat
And a few gargled swills
Will end all ills.

These are the cravings
These are the ravings
That kill kill kill.

The bridge is near
The bridge is far
What is in between
Lefty still unseen?

The cliff is high
The trough is low
Where am I?
I do not know
Now where I'll be
When I choose to go.

Just drawing you

Just drawing you
Brought you soaring
Back so strikingly
To my starving memory
Reciting and recycling
In lines linked times
Refined and defined
A little of you here and there
Lips open..lips closed
An eybrow...a nose
Lashes and lashes
Dots and dashes
Hair parting
Falling, and meeting
Those eyes flashing
Flinging feelings
An expression
An obsession
Craving those eyes
So crazy really
In all seriousness
So ridiculous
No need for all that.

What we had.

What we had was difficult.
Trying to explore each other,
Trying to guess, and second guess,
One another's needs.

To short a time to get under the skin,
Still trying to impress each other,
Even now, on the phone,
Seven thousand miles away.

The banality of relations is astonishing,
Maneourves in the dark,
Breaking cover, hiding again.
Trying to conjure the other.

Why does it always have to be this way?
Is fear of rejection so intense?
What is it about the fear of loss,
That drives people to such extremes.

There has to be another way.
To revel in another's affection,
Building a story together,
Rather than playing an opponents alone.

If she 'wins' this game then fair enough,
She is more beautiful and intelligent than me,
To not conform to anyone else's bequest,
And just enjoy creation, that's my goal.

Given up on these power games.
I was being murdered anyway.
To live a life where to give,
Is appreciated, by both parties.

These are the qualities I want to explore.

In myself and another.

She Said

She said
'You have so much angst, it's really unattractive.'
She's right,

Angst is really crap.

It makes a person look weak,
Scared.

Maybe,

A couple of photo's of her,
Our on my computer at work,
Looking at them brings on this strong fuzzy glow,

Where's the angst come in?

The love for this woman,
Which wells up in my stomach,
Burning through my body,
Leaving me ravished,
Blushing at the nakedness,
Of the desire.

Why then angst?
Conquer the fear,
What then?
New fear?
What is the fear saying?
Is it just a highly developed sense?
Absorbing shock

Before

During

After

She finds it unattractive.
Am I offended?
No.

Angst is Crap
There was a time,
When presentation of perfection,
Or at least an interpretation
There of.

Mattered

She talks about her ex boyfriends.
Should have said something before,
But didn't know how,
Wanted to be strong,
Wanted to ask her,
If it's always like this at the start.
Laying the groundwork for the end.

Paul
Martyn

Feels like her attention,
Likes to wander off of me,
Like we are never alone.

Great sex
Bad sex
Dirty sex

What about our sex?
What would you like to do?
With you?
To you?

Can we talk about that?
If not, why not?
I'd just like her to show me,
To waltz in the realms of ecstasy
Not lead this elaborate dance

Of

20
30
40

Questions,

Feels like your best times were in the past.
With men you loved for years
I can't compete with their attention,
After but a few months.

If angst is crap, then I have,
Unfortunately,
A crap side of me.
It's there,
Human,
Work with it,
May not ever go away,
But it will never consume
The beauty you see.

Which is the point

Yet with her, more is the word,
More than a fantasy,
More than an intellectual game.

If she so completely hates this,
She should walk away,

Under tiredness
Stress
Duress

I crack

Mood nose-dives

Light sucked out of my soul.

Will go through many evenings
If she walks,
Being

Tired,

Emotional,

Hurt.

Yet while I would walk over hot coals for her,
Take the force of the knocks she gets,

Sympathise
Empathise

Be strong, calm, wise, positive.

Talk 'till dawn if that's what she needs,
(For my soul aches when I see her distressed,)
That's some commitment,
If she can't live with a little weakness,
Perhaps leaving is best.

One Night Stand

I woke that morning with her,
The hazy fascination with her soul,
Seemed to belong in another realm.
The carnal actuality of the situation,
Like a sirocco scorched my mind,
The hot sand it carried covered our bodies,
Giving a warmth that painfully, yet fundamentally,
Belonged with the dirt on the ground.

Like a desert flower wilting in the sun,
Longing for the sensuous rain,
Wilts and dies on it's own,
Leaving little but a sad corpse,
As evidence of its desire and hope.
And I, as I luxuriate in delicious rain,
Know that the drought.
Is but an hour away.

I have no need of her, indeed,
Such a thought terrifies my very being,
Yet in these precious minutes of luxury,
Touching her eyes with mine,
Running my hands across her chest,
Dancing in its purest form,
Reaching out across the void existence.
And having the void kiss me back.

If that's all she is,
A refection of the void, right here right now,
The flower will die, its soul galvanised
To rise again in divine precipitation.
But the thought that's dying right now,
Is that I long to Dance with her soul,
And have her soul kiss me back.

You asked if Philosophers should be politicians

You asked if Philosophers should be politicians,
I said no,
Gandhi was a lawyer,
Used the law
Kicked a corrosive superpower,
Out of his homeland,
Then declined to be its leader.
Blair is a Lawyer,
Had an Illegal war.
Didn't give a F**k about the law.
He just loves being in charge.

If leaders are philosophers,
They'd only wreak the truth,
Twist it,
Change it,
For good and bad.

Politics is the art of the possible,
Therein lies the beauty.
And the horror.

Hannah

Hannah ran through the field
of poesy and pretty shield
of light and dome covered land
the world was blues, greens and sand
the creeping desert became a terror
it gave fear and deep horror
for there was Only One
for her to see
that would take her from this
territory
and nothing spoke
and nothing broke
but the heart was heavy
and a little revvy
like a car
that pollutes the atmosphere
the only soul that would find dear
was in IKEA
buying gear
for the house or flat
who knows if there was a cat
or maybe just a hat
but nevertheless
there was too much in the cold light of day to say that there was something
a thing of beauty
she's Hannah
who likes to make banners
and art and darting comments
and banners
oh i said that already
i think my name is Freddy
but if it doesn't rhyme
is it poetry
and if it does,
is it nonsense
but then we saw
it all together
and there we were
a little treasure
a little pleasure
and some leisure

Mannah

Hannah is manna from heaven,
she's a bright spark in the dark,
a world away, a sheltered haven,
a joyful release, a humble ark,
where all of the world can be saved,
a grinding mill, a stone lathe,
that takes life's problems and turns them into powder,
a woman with real power.

Love poem

i cannot believe it,
i cannot, cannot believe
the world is a Plath-like melody
of misery and shame
yet the light still shines
and the path is open
like a circle's lines
infinite beyond mortal ken

as though I were sleeping
i breath lightly
and dreams follow
this love is true, rightly
and not a hollow
empty fading rainbow
something unsightly

To a girl

your beauty is a lie,
because it's too good to be true,
from my feelings I could die,
because I haven't been given my due.

I'd love to know you better,
because without it I am dulled,
Your emails, voice or letter,
my mind would be mulled.

You are a fine wine,
A bouquet of innocence and wonder,
perhaps we could dine, sometime,
Without you I am like a storm without thunder.

Four Walls for Freedom Campaign 2006 all rights reserved

http://www.boutiquebrighton.info

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