I’m tired of shucking shibboleths
my messianic zeal
hightailed it for the city
in search of something real
and many of my passing jests
were taken out of turn
the worlds that we were building
will crash and maybe burn
and all those crazy promises
you made when we were new
were broken in a moment
that came from out the blue
so I’ll sit and eat those wasted words
as the timeless moments pass
then kiss you off politely
and kick your stupid ass



save the saddened souls and lay refulgent on the floor
curse the savage gods who deny succour to the poor
laugh away the hours till the darkness strikes again
hide your sordid secrets in the multitudes of men

never would be soon enough for this to come to light
arm yourself with anything you’re heading for a fight
later when the punishment precedes the vicious crime
search for hidden meanings in the reason and the rhyme

genuine regret may be found in the strangest place
try to wipe the sickly grimace off your sweating face
tenderly I come to you and lay my feelings down
as I place upon your head the lucky loser’s crown

the light that shone out earlier will never more be seen
the past that we’d agreed on might never now have been
and tricky as the concept is at last the truth seems clear
without the death of millions none of us would be here

never, never, never

I rode into town with a deadly plan
never, never, never in the morning
to rob the bank and kill me a man
never, never, never in the morning
I needed gold for I’m dreadful poor
never, never, never in the morning
and the man had to die ’cause he killed my pa
never, never, never in the morning
now I robbed the bank with nary a shot
never, never, never in the morning
and I searched for the man with my temper hot
never, never, never in the morning
I found my man hid down by the creek
never, never, never in the morning
I said “You’re gonna die” in a voice so bleak
never, never, never in the morning
he went for his gun but I got mine first
never, never, never in the morning
and the bullets flew as I did my worst
never, never, never in the morning
they caught me then and threw me in gaol
never, never, never in the morning
nary a chance of getting bail
never, never, never in the morning
they took me to court where the judge did say
never, never, never in the morning
“We’re gonna hang you, son, at the break of day,
just this once in the morning”

once upon

once upon a passing day
my eyes were green the sky was grey
though I was dancing anyway
or so the stories tell
and where were you as this went down
eyes fixed on the stony ground
come from where and wither bound
under what witches spell
and nothing then as it is now
not fatted calf nor sacred cow
nor reasons given anyhow
why should we embrace change
but time itself will not stand still
by word of law or act of will
and someone yet must stand the bill
though it be passing strange
and promises from days of yore
could be so much and nothing more
than wine spilled out upon the floor
a wasteful wanton deed
so here we stand in heaven’s sight
cast beneath this louring light
one final step into the night
and in the darkness bleed


by damommza

peering through the frozen lake
I am horrified to see
a visage of my own true self
blindly staring back at me

my eyes are dull, my skin is white
gold hair flows like a lost crown
a single thought tries to cheat death
coming up? or going down…

seeing myself, so in despair
it fills me with derision
bereft of counsel and of hope
I need to make a decision

do I crack the ice and pull me out
vainly hoping for salvation?
or do I jump in and join myself
in a death of my own creation..


Dolores you were my darling, as the sun rose in the west
Dolores you were my darling, though perhaps only in jest
and the days were longer and fatter
and the nights were designed to be shunned
Dolores you were my darling, though you always had me out gunned

and Dolores I can remember the day we first met in the park
I was carrying a torch and you provided the spark
and the heat was too much to handle
for a boy who never grew wings
Dolores I was your puppet dancing about on your strings

and Dolores how we clung together, though many accused us of sin
though if push comes to shove, Dolores, I wouldn’t know where to begin
and our story was written by angels
the choruses sung by a choir
and Dolores if I wasn’t a winner, at least I was always a trier

and Dolores I was so happy the day you said you’d be mine
I wrote in my diary “she loves me” then knocked back a bottle of wine
and it is, and you know that it should be
as true as a big man is tall
that the best thing about you Dolores, I never knew you at all


I could love you for a minute
but you know my heart’s not in it
I’d rather sleep alone than by your side
what’s the point in trying
we’d only end up crying
I’m never going to be a blushing bride
go and look elsewhere
find someone who’ll care
who won’t be looking for the exit sign
then one last kiss goodbye
walk away and dry your eye
then forget me ’cause you know that I’ll be fine


by damommza & sunovawot

when “breaking-up” or “breaking-down”
do people really break?
like eggshells smashed in tiny bits
can there be no re-make?

do broken hearts leave a jagged edge
that cannot be smoothed down
but will be worn, in blackest night
a bleeding, ruby crown

if you must choose but find you’re torn
and there is no escape
to hold you tight til you decide
there’s nothing like duct tape

and are “migraines” really “your” grains
why has the flu not flown?
does the little “sty” outside your eye
really give a pig a home?

how is it I am “losing” hair
when I know it’s down the drain
and will I need a massive net
if I want to catch a train

and if I say I’m standing up
when I’m sat in a chair
it really begs the question
am I truly lying there

I often have such vagrant thoughts
how does a language grow?
the question may be gripping but
am I really “dying” to know


by damommza & sunovawot

as crusty bubbles climb the pan
I feel that I am aging..
the wait, for me is whey too long
and I start salivating..

bacteria flies all around
this great and lovely nation
but for me, success is found
in this great fermentation

a pressing need to get it right
so no one does this better
not Monterey Jack nor Stilton, Blue
will ever beat my cheddar

Velveeta please, you are not cheese
I think you are absurd
your shiny orange skin is gross
you are more cad than curd..

why would I have that processed stuff
that makes my taste buds buckle
when I can have the real thing
sharp cheddar by the truckle

an ode to cheese, it may not be
the greatest poem you’ve read
but when you have a hunger
there’s nowt beats cheese and bread

chosen one

the truth is that none of you
saw me as I was passing through
all of you with downcast eyes
searching for some hidden prize
worlds could clash and empires fall
and none of you would see it all
Death could come with waving swords
drag you screaming off the boards
and who would know and who would care
that you were no longer there
a figure vanished in the gloom
gone to some uncertain doom
and all around the rest would be
silent still with none to see
and so I passed and now am gone
and never was your chosen one