Noise
From it there's no escape
it is everywhere
noise, noise, noise.
The moment you arise
till you go to sleep
it fills your head.
Cars and lorries drive by
bloody noisy Pigeons cooing
stereo's at full blast.
Drilling in the road
alarms going off
sirens wailing.
Kids screaming
Helicopter overhead
sound of breaking glass.
Noisy neighbours
doors slamming
dogs loud barking.
Even when asleep
noises in your head
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poem by Kevin Halls
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Where Do We All Go?
There's a line in a Coldplay song
'Where do we go nobody knows'
I played it the other evening
and those words stuck in my mind
some lyrics in songs do that don't they?
I must have drifted away for a while
because I thought of you both,
wondering where you are now?
I do hope your both together
you always were two peas in a pod.
I'm still here struggling away
but things aren't the same anymore
because your both not around.
Still, you wouldn't want me sad,
so I try and keep a smile on my face
the words of another song spring to mind,
'The tears of a clown when there's no one around.'
But I look forward to seeing you again,
when that great day will be nobody knows
but until then look after each other
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poem by Kevin Halls
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The Kids Are Being Mollycoddled
I was a young lad in the sixties
and we were always out and about
it was a time of little health and safety
and your parents could give you a clout.
The kids today are the PlayStation generation
and some haven't even climbed a tree
but we spent most of our time outdoors
and best of all it was all free.
We never had mobiles or laptops
and the television only came on at night
you made do with just three channels
and that was all in black and white.
We'd all go on long nature rambles
not returning until it got dark
and when we weren't on adventures
we'd be playing Football over the park.
So kids switch off those computers
before both of your eyes turn square
stop being wrapped up in cotton wool
and get outside into the fresh air!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Who to blame for writers block?
Risen up from his cold dark tomb
the malevolent poet is alive again
his evil master has given him power
to confuse poets and bring them pain.
He's invisible to the poets eye
and he doesn't make a sound
his mission is to bring writers block
to all poets everywhere around.
The unaware poet stares at a blank screen
unable to create one single verse
the satanic force takes over his mind
his thoughts go from bad to worse.
The romantic poet thinks about death
his thoughts no longer on love and light
he wants to write about misery and war
and things that go bump in the night.
So the next time you can't write a poem
and your sitting there full of despair
you now know it's not you who's at fault
but it's the evil poet and he's over there!
poem by Kevin Halls
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How to get on in life
Always try and smile
be as friendly as you can
be polite and well mannered
to every woman and man.
Be gentle and forgiving
keep calm all day long
try and have a sense of humour
even when things go wrong.
Don't swear and get drunk
and pay your taxes on time
be a law abiding citizen
and don't get involved in crime.
But all of the above is hard to do
as people and life can get you down
when you've had a really lousy day
instead of a smile it's usually a frown.
And when someone has been nasty
or your struggling to pay the gas bill
you don't feel like cracking a joke
you'd rather have a drink or a pill.
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poem by Kevin Halls
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The Gunslinger
He liked to walk around town
dressed up like his hero John Wayne
he would say 'Howdy pardners'
but us kids were told he was insane.
On his head he wore a big Cowboy hat
a toy pistol hung down by his side
'I'm the fastest gun in the West, he'd say
so you Injuns better run away and hide.'
My Mum said he wasn't the full ticket
meaning he was simple and not very bright
but I thought he was a proper Cowboy
who was on his way to a real gunfight.
'Where you tied up your Horse? '
some people would sarcastically say
but the Cowboy would calmly reply,
' I came here on the Iron Horse today.'
So he wasn't a real Cowboy just an eccentric
who was no more a Gunslinger than me
but he never meant anybody any harm
he was just a pretend Cowboy from Coventry!
poem by Kevin Halls
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An English Summer
Teenagers drinking in the park
Tennis from Wimbledon on T.V.
acrid smells coming from barbecues
being bitten by midges, gnats, and flea.
Music you have never ever liked
blasting out all over your neighbourhood
gangs of kids who should be in bed
hanging about late and up to no good.
The pollen count shoots on up
making you cough and have an itchy eye
it can rain on and off for weeks
when we've been told it'll be hot and dry.
You get all hot and sweaty and can't sleep
when we do finally get that hot spell
but you can't leave your windows open
as you might let in the burglar from hell.
So I don't really enjoy an English summer
in fact I reckon they are so overrated
but if you can't beat them join them
so I'm off to a barbie to get slightly inebriated!
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Old Fox
Vixen was a cunning old fox
her wits had kept her alive
she'd move around a lot
doing anything to survive.
All her cubs had moved out
so now she travelled alone
scavenging along the way
scraps and a bit of meat on a bone.
But she wasn't getting any younger
and her fur was shades of Grey
so she did her hunting at night
and slept throughout the day.
When her cubs came to visit
she was amazed at how they'd grown
but they didn't stay around for long
so once again she was on her own.
She ended up in an old foxes home
with her once red fur completely white
and all her claws and teeth fell out
so she couldn't scratch or even bite.
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poem by Kevin Halls
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The dream stealer
When your sleeping at night
that's when he enters your mind
he wants to steal your dreams
he'll take anything he can find.
His name is Dreamstealer
he's been around a long time
he comes up from down below
and into your brain he'll climb.
He is invisible to the eye
but he's there right by your bed
and as soon as you start dreaming
he's straight inside your head.
The scarier dream the better
because they really turn him on
he loves to see your heart pounding
and when you awake he's gone.
But just because he's got your dream
don't think he won't come back
he'll never stop stealing your dreams
as soon as you sleep he's on the attack.
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poem by Kevin Halls
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Words say so much
Words are everywhere you look
in the paper and in the book
we all use them when we speak
in languages like French and Greek.
A baby uses them to speak to it's Mum
that's why she knows it wants talc on it's bum
but teenagers say words we don't understand
and singers sing them like Elvis and Streisand.
People lose their temper and shout and cuss
like when they stub a toe or miss a bus
that's when swear words can be heard
words you won't find in the Times crossword.
Someone who's drunk will talk in a strange way
these words can be heard in pubs on a Saturday
there's short words, and some which are long,
and some words that are nearly always spelt wong.
But that's enough words for now I'll put down my pen,
it's the end, over, ceased, finished, stopped, AMEN.
poem by Kevin Halls
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