Category Archives: rap

Weapons of Feathers


I catch the eye of your smokestack attack,
your knick-knack decree, your prickly glee,
your steel filigree of quack accusations;
your erroneous, odious, misconceived notion
that you hold the skeleton key.

How dare you presume to assess my position,
to deny my depths, my needs and my reasons,
How dare you declare that mistreatment thrills me;
why do you wish to further diminish
this unwilling detainee?

You misread my desires when you speak of agendas,
dismembering debris from my deadened embers,
placing the blame and incentive on me;
yet you can’t oversee my weighty life story
you’re not even a nominee.

I repudiate all of your fool’s accusations;
the self-satisfied sewage that you blithely peruse,
denying the truth that the root of abuse
lies with the abuser, who uses his beastly repartee
to make a recluse of me.

Each time he unlooses his sly war-cry ruses
that criticise and vilify, and meanly seek to crucify,
the savagery is magnified, and all the while
he denies or justifies every stultifying lie,
crushing me like a flea.

He steals all my strength and my self-belief;
leaves me convinced that I’m too weak to leave.
I want to break free, to seek my redemption,
but all I have left are weapons of feathers;
I am a failed escapee.

How can I fight or escape the mind-rape;
I can’t fan a fire whose flames have died,
I’ve no place to flee and no way to hide.
Your ignorance stinks, you’ve wakened my ire,
you are mistaken, you see.

You proselytize bootlace, bottled psychology,
lamely proclaiming I’m playing a game,
of break-ups and make-ups and titillation,
of lusty fun with fumbling seduction,
but you are wrong about me.

I high-time you booted your latchkey untruths,
stop denying what lies in the core of abuse,
you have no knowledge to back your excuses;
don’t spit slick idioms as you lick your silver spoon,
and finally, leave me be.

I’ve run out of internet data 8 days before the new month begins, and am publishing this via my daughter’s account. This is the fourth month running that this has happened. Up until then, I always had loads left at the end of the month. I’m not using the internet any more than I used to. I feel confused and frustrated, so instead of doing the sensible thing – ringing my supplier and asking what’s going on – I’m taking it out on someone who wrote an insulting post about a million years ago, claiming that women who are abused, stay because they enjoy the abuse…

©Jane Paterson Basil

Untitled 2. Guest Poet spot

My grandson Mark tells it like he sees it, in the second of two poems he generously gave me permission to post.

A metaphysical pilgrimage lavished with ecstacy
Physicality is blind only the mind can see
The alignment of our souls’ own perfect symmetry
This exponential force lies in the geometry
The remedy set in realisation of our entity
And that all and one is simple its all just energy
So I specifically collect intellectual concepts
So I can decide for myself and expect what to percept
I have kept these thoughts stored in my head
And intercept the source through what I’ve read
Coz knowledge is power and yet its still free
It helps through lifes milestones with epiphany
It’s extraordinary the anomalies that I rarely see
When most be perplexed or distraught with mountains of greed
Its not really that complex just source out the seed
Life bleeds Existence symmetry fuels the pistons
Taking every chance to get into the Distance
Mishaps happen but don’t get wet with the piss pants
Fat rants clapping in my head worse than sycophants
In a trance rapping doing flips while I psycho dance
Romance lapping wounds healing at a first glance
It’s true man’s sapping at the world just to enhance
All this stabbing in the dark we’ve got no chance

©Mark Clements

Untitled – Guest Poet spot

Introducing guest poet Mark Clements.

run to the hills and hide in the skies
no more worry no more demise
see you running now see it in your eyes
we are being valued by the enterprise
the price of your life don’t think twice
you’re worth more than that take my advice
just care for nout but whats inside
gotta work hard gotta sacrifice
gotta carry on for the rest of the ride
gotta love hard for the life of your tribe
gotta keep up that high vis vibe
its not black and white it ain’t about sides
just keep loving with the turn of the tide
and reap the benefits of your own pride

Months ago, my eldest Grandson, Mark, promised to submit one of his poems. He’s finally delivered not one, but two raps. He plans to take up a career in music, and is set to begin a specialist degree course in September.