Northern Rain

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask "How are you?"
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed
With the next hundred chores, running through your head?
You'd better slow down
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Ever told your child, "We'll do it tomorrow"?
And in your haste, not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time to call and say "Hi"?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
It is like an unopened gift…thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.

- David L. Weatherford

care of Blue Witch

posted by Loopydoop @ 10:53 am

Dead in the head (Mad Jack)

“Come on” said Mad Jack “pull yer finger out”
“Stop acting like a tart” he laughed
“Throw away your self doubt”

I looked and cried, “you don’t know me inside”
Mad Jack looked and smiled.
“Oh yes I do, because I am you”
“No your not – this cannot be!” I shouted.

Then I sat and thought, and doubted
That anything in this world was real,
That my mind would ever heal.

Have I ever been my self
Did I take life and make it mine
Or did I settle on a shelf
And commit a terrible crime

“Yes” said Mad Jack, sitting very still,
“You did the worst!”
“It was me you did kill!”
“And now it really hurts”

posted by Loopydoop @ 11:11 am

My Desk


From my desk, I look out the window,
Vertical blind hangs down, just like bars.
It makes it feel like a prison,
As I sit, and look out, at the cars

From my desk, I look to my left,
I see PC’s, working people, neatly stacked.
It makes me feel like a robot,
And I feel my brain has been hacked.

From my desk, I look to my right,
I look through the bars and the glass.
It makes me feel like a prisoner,
Watching people, in cars, as they pass

posted by Loopydoop @ 11:38 am

The bloke that I work for

The bloke that I work for ain’t a bad chap.
When I ask for promotion he says “not just yet.”

He gives me a smile when I ask for a rise,
“Sorry young chap – when you’re more wise.”

Then time passes; I love my wife and the kids,
I say to the boss “look I’m in debt - on the skids.”

He says he can’t help – can’t even try,
“Look at my overheads – they’re far too high.”

So I scrimp and I save,
I work and I slave,
I do as I’m told,
I start to grow old.

Hey boss I’ve worked here for years,
Since I was a lad – if I could retire I would be glad.

Sorry he said and nodded his head.
It’s cost a great deal to train you and hone all your skills,
If I let you go it will compound my ills.

I smiled – “about my promotion a job that is nice?”
He scowled “you’re too old – and don’t ask me twice!”

But I’m tired and depressed, working to make you rich.
“Get on with your work – don’t moan and bitch.”

The bloke that I work for is a really bad swine,
He thinks lack of dedication is a heinous crime.

Tied by my pension - stuck in a job that I hate,
Every day is a battle – I don’t feel too great.

Too old for promotion and stuck in my ways.
Too young for my pension and counting the days.

I’m stood in a hole, ten foot in the ground.
The sides are grey and smooth and round.

There’s no way out
There’s no way out

posted by Loopydoop @ 11:35 am

The hole (impotence)

There’s a hole in my door,
Where I stick my key.
Here’s a hole on the floor,
Is it a fan-ne?

She’s not easily shocked,
All inviting and warm.
Waiting to be unlocked,
By my cream horn.

I stand and look,
And take in the view.
She invited me to fuck,
But I got in a stew.

My hands they did shake,
My confidence did soften.
My urge did break,
As happens so often.

“Oh god”, I did think,
“Why’s this happening to me?”
Why does my manhood shrink?
When it shouldn’t be.

She thinks its her,
And I think its me.
This thing is a curse,
Will we ever be free?

posted by Loopydoop @ 11:32 am

One way street

Look back, take stock,
See what you have done.
This may make you rock,
Clearly nothing – you’re no-one!

You made a million pound,
It all went to your plan.
And now you’re buried in the ground,
And no-one gives a damn.

In the end it matters not,
What you do in life.
We all die and rot,
Even man and wife.

We all chose which path to take,
And looking back don’t help.
All it gives is heartache,
And pain for yourself

So now its time to dump that load
Drop it off your back
Throw it on the side of the road
And start with an empty pack

Down the road you start,
Full of glee.
With a happy heart,
Because forwards, is the only place to see.

We all need a new start.

posted by Loopydoop @ 11:01 pm

Secret Poems


I am a secret poet.
With poems hidden in my brain.
So very, very secret.
Will I ever remember them again?

When I am composing
I don’t pick the time or place.
Don’t you see?
It picks me!
The rhyme I have to chase.

It’s like a wisp of wind
Suddenly there, floating around
Then it disappears, never to be found.

This is so frustrating.
It drives me round the bend.
Some people say I’m crazy
Some think me lazy
But in fact.
I’m just a little hazy!

posted by Loopydoop @ 11:06 pm

I look at the world, and the world looks at me.
See the busy people passing by.
Then I look at the world, I look at a tree,
It’s busy reaching for the sky.

I look at myself – what do I see?
Someone who’s left behind.
In this world nothing is free,
This place is very unkind.

I look at the world – the rush and the push,
Like an express train gone off the rails.
People dash in a mad crush,
Build a world that is hard as nails

I look at myself – in my own space
Away from the world, in my house.
I sit back, and slow to my pace,
And hide in the corner - like a mouse.

posted by Loopydoop @ 12:42 pm

The with and the without

If God’s up there in heaven, looking down.
And hell is down below, then is hell hand made by man?
Only god will know.

Some are born into money, naturally they are rich.
Most are born into poverty, starvation and ill health.
The rich look down at the poor.
They thank god for their wealth.

There are some in the middle
Neither rich or poor
They buy a ticket, hope for luck
For a big win and a fast buck

They live in hope day after day
Praying that fortune will come their way
Something to relieve life’s boredom
To remove the daily drudge

Is the answer in a bet?
The lotto or the pools?
Us middle people-we are such fools.

We fritter away our lives
So busy earning a living
Life just passes by
The injustice of it all
Makes me want to cry


There is no time, every day’s a rush.
Dash to the station, to jump on a train
And stand like sardines in a crush.
Take it from me, it’s nothing but pain

posted by Loopydoop @ 11:01 pm

Just a few poems and an attempt to be ceative and let off steam at the same time

posted by Loopydoop @ 4:08 pm