The Door to Hell is burning like resentment every day,
Consuming every promise, every tender word I say,
And still The Door remains ablaze, enticing me its way.
With purpose and conviction, the flames which never rest,
Consume the very passion to which they do attest,
With the purpose and conviction I never have possessed.
The burning cavern endless deep with 80-meter span,
In desert Karakum was formed and left to burn by man,
This Door to Hell so ghastly pure devouring all it can.
For twenty years and twenty more this blazing, torrid well,
Has lit the way to agony consuming me to tell,
That one day soon I’ll gladly pass through burning Door to Hell.
© Craig Guthrie
Take a look inside a giant hole in the desert which has been on fire for more than 40 YEARS
Craig is currently seeking a publisher for his book of poetry and prose "Chef and I - Lyrical Salads and Literary Vandalism" All comments, suggestions and offers welcome. More HERE
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Monday, 30 July 2012
The Evil Games
Each man and woman
and in-betweeny
wants to be seen here.
It’s what they’re all about –
moving ‘swifter, higher, stronger’
than the next man or woman
or hermaphrodite chancer
or drug-raddled body enhancer.
It’s the arena of small ambition
that reduces the human condition
to physical exhibition.
The phrase ‘disgusting displays’
is tailor-made for these Olympian days.
Tarnished gold,
the tarts’ grubby target,
above all else!
Swifter, higher, stronger, sadder,
ever more desperate.
Come on! COME on!
Peel of the Lycra suits.
The drugs don’t work.
They just make it worse.
They’re corrupted,
like the Olympics itself,
by being about
winning instead of the
important stuff of life,
which is mainly about losing.
Look now to London!
On the podium they stand,
grinning go-getters,
facile pace-setters.
Some people cheer,
some wave the bunting
of freedom-crushing states
as athletes are rewarded
with the motherland’s
rancid anthem.
Nothing can redeem
a movement that professes
to be noble, while doing
what the ignoble always do,
in crushing the
humanity, humility,
poetry and eloquence
right out of people.
© Steve Regan
Mitt Romney questions whether Britain is ready for Olympic Games
Steve Regan co-runs the Bards of New Brighton (Wirral) and Liver Bards (Liverpool) poetry clubs. He is a former newspaper reporter.
and in-betweeny
wants to be seen here.
It’s what they’re all about –
moving ‘swifter, higher, stronger’
than the next man or woman
or hermaphrodite chancer
or drug-raddled body enhancer.
It’s the arena of small ambition
that reduces the human condition
to physical exhibition.
The phrase ‘disgusting displays’
is tailor-made for these Olympian days.
Tarnished gold,
the tarts’ grubby target,
above all else!
Swifter, higher, stronger, sadder,
ever more desperate.
Come on! COME on!
Peel of the Lycra suits.
The drugs don’t work.
They just make it worse.
They’re corrupted,
like the Olympics itself,
by being about
winning instead of the
important stuff of life,
which is mainly about losing.
Look now to London!
On the podium they stand,
grinning go-getters,
facile pace-setters.
Some people cheer,
some wave the bunting
of freedom-crushing states
as athletes are rewarded
with the motherland’s
rancid anthem.
Nothing can redeem
a movement that professes
to be noble, while doing
what the ignoble always do,
in crushing the
humanity, humility,
poetry and eloquence
right out of people.
© Steve Regan
Mitt Romney questions whether Britain is ready for Olympic Games
Steve Regan co-runs the Bards of New Brighton (Wirral) and Liver Bards (Liverpool) poetry clubs. He is a former newspaper reporter.
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