The Poetry Of Bad Language

D.I.Y. Poetry Swear Slam
D.I.Y. Poetry Swear Slam




even the name prompts a deep muse
deep breath and your torso expands
softly you blow your cheek out like a bruise

what to do with your mind then
like a deep blue sky blotted with
pure white clouds in the expanse of a glen

the broad scenery surrounds you
much traversed from far ashore
limbs are tired and feet are sore

melancholy through to the bone
like an inane sense of folly
a long, long way from home


stopping on your way deep in thought
where does one go from here?
your ideals and your hopes have all been bought

in time everyone wonders if they are lost
and can it be that we are or does this
world deceive? in the distance the mountains are capped with frost

walking you feel softly in your breast
the flutter of a temperate heart
it imbues your melancholy with a rhetorical tart

that your mind rejoices at the inherent emotion
which must lead to a voice of nature
within you that at once fatigues you like a potion


back you sink into the numbing sphere
of melancholy feelings
it leads your mind to fear

the dormant motion that resides inside you
like an immense weight drops
that forces you to sink down too

but one must fight such expressions
to force with all your might
to rise heaven-wards that you might express

so what is melancholy to a wandering
spirit such as yourself with no hierarchy?
we must all swim in a sea of anarchy


No but that isn’t the way of a real melancholy
because a person finds it hard
to focus in on a wandering mind
a mind that drifts so and you are melancholy
because there is no substance to fill in the pictures

Melancholy is a puzzle it has no rhyme
the poet looks for this
creates a style from the natural forms
around and maybe it has no rhyme
but it is for the reader to enjoy because
the poet is melancholy
the poet is bored


I saw you the other day standing on the edge of the
in the very mists of splendour as the sun went down
beckoning in the dark night
I stood and watched and wrapped my coat around
it was getting cold and the darkness in my heart
called out for you standing on the edge of the pier
Looking at you my mind rejoiced
the darkness
recoiled and my heart flared for an instant as West flew
a flock of birds through
the wind

In my solitude I stand at the edge of the pier and watch
the red rose float by in the water
the sun almost down I wait for you
The thin clouds towards the horizon gives a palette of
and in my mind I choose your favourite colour and I paint you
standing on the edge of the pier
You didn’t come that night onto the pier to stare at the foreboding
dark waters
to watch the bird swoop
dive and catch the morsel only to fly high deep into the sky again
So I leave the pier with my arms wrapped around me
I’m cold
and I pass people on both sides as I am wondering where you are

I walk the streets but they are unforgiving
and I want you and I’m crying out without you
but there are no answers
I shall be with my Angel tomorrow

I’m at the edge of the pier again and I see you there in front of
calling me and showing me the way
You’re off the edge of the pier
I hold out my arms but your falling
endlessly falling and I’m calling your name
as you drown sinking into the depths your love goes with

Tonight I’m crying at the edge of the pier
the sun went down a long time ago
just like my dreams
just like you
Someone is standing next to me and I ask
‘Did you see that girl the other day?’
and you say, ‘She’s drowned,’ and to yourself
‘a sweet Angel’
I watch the water and its getting nearer and the splash is cold
but I don’t wear my coat tonight
Here I am and my Angel brings me down
Down to our dreams we swim