Covent Garden

TyeDye

Covent garden toilet blocks are too small
Coke addicts snorting in the next stall
I closed my eyes took a trip and I saw it all
A peircing echo screaming down an endless hall

How does it feel to be so low and still falling
Frozen still
Witness to my vicious mauling
How does it feel to be so low and still falling
Im confronting death and I hear her calling

I speak to a God Im not sure is there
I need to explain but to whom I dont care

I need..... I need.....I

How does it feel to be so low and still falling
Im confronting death and I hear her calling.

ISN

coven garden
witches sneak up
they brew a rich broth
and drink from a cup
of hoary cracked pig
when the witches come
they threaten all kinds of things
they say they'll twist up your sins
into vials of poison
and make viruses to pain you
when the witches of coven garden come
they will waylay you
they'll seem so beautiful at first
until they get a thirst
and all the pubs in coven garden
famous for their beer
will suddenly turn queer
and you'll see clowns of death
and if you hold fast
and don't regret....and don't regress
then the witches of coven garden
will die
and as they die they'll scream
and you'll wake from the dream
of the witches of coven garden

TyeDye

"and all the pubs in coven garden
famous for their beer
will suddenly turn queer"

Nice LOL

ISN

sorry about that.....I liked your peom......I jus kinda went with it.....anyway......thank God I'm such a long way from Covent Garden.....from TGIF and the restaurants.....and shops.....and bloody pubs.......and performers.....thank God I'm in my little apartment in Sydney......and it's goodnight from me.....and it's goodnight from him......

ISN

bump....somebody else comment on this peom.....I ruined it in my enthusiasm.....c'mon c'mon.....heheheheheheh

TyeDye

ISN wrote:

bump....somebody else comment on this peom.....I ruined it in my enthusiasm.....c'mon c'mon.....heheheheheheh

You didnt ruin it, I enjoyed your addition, it was like the poetic equivelant of a Jam.

ISN

hey!!!! thx.....I felt bad.....I feel like a disease.....really......I don't.....I feel like LOVE.....my mother-in-law is a disease.....but I was worried that I'd jinxed you.....ya know.....in my clumsy way.....but anyway.....I jus can't keep it in......ya know

Ms. Haiku

TyeDye wrote:

Covent garden toilet blocks are too small
Coke addicts snorting in the next stall
I closed my eyes took a trip and I saw it all
A peircing echo screaming down an endless hall

How does it feel to be so low and still falling
Frozen still
Witness to my vicious mauling
How does it feel to be so low and still falling
Im confronting death and I hear her calling

I speak to a God Im not sure is there
I need to explain but to whom I dont care

I need..... I need.....I

How does it feel to be so low and still falling
Im confronting death and I hear her calling.

I liked this poem, it's gritty, but not preachy.

Here's a funny story (sorry if it's not appropriate) I was reading a lot about past lives in 1998, and I just knew I was a prostitute in a past life in Convent Garden (fancy that). 8 years earlier I wrote a paper on the "Contagious Diseases Act" in college, and that's when I first heard of Convent Garden. When I walked about "Convent Garden" where it is now on a very short trip in England, I just "Knew" I had been there before. It all seemed familiar yadda yadda yadda. Well, then I looked on the internet and realized that the Convent Gardens of the late 19th century IS NOT where I was walking about in 1998. Boy, did I feel dumb.

ISN

that's an interesting story......ha! a prostitute in Covent Garden.....I think Jack the Ripper was around the East End.....I wonder why it's called Covent Garden......Covent means agreement I think......I don't know.....anyway......it's a nice place......within walking distance of Holborn and Oxford Street.....and Leicester Sqaure......I remember the toilets at the back of the square with the greenish light.....the public toilets.....(I never used them)

TyeDye

Bibliobella wrote:

I liked this poem, it's gritty, but not preachy.

Here's a funny story (sorry if it's not appropriate) I was reading a lot about past lives in 1998, and I just knew I was a prostitute in a past life in Convent Garden (fancy that). 8 years earlier I wrote a paper on the "Contagious Diseases Act" in college, and that's when I first heard of Convent Garden. When I walked about "Convent Garden" where it is now on a very short trip in England, I just "Knew" I had been there before. It all seemed familiar yadda yadda yadda. Well, then I looked on the internet and realized that the Convent Gardens of the late 19th century IS NOT where I was walking about in 1998. Boy, did I feel dumb.

The first two lines of the poem are based on a true story.

I was in London 2 years ago, and I must of eaten something really bad because all of a sudden I needed to go. So I sprinted across the main square at Covent garden to the public loo, I was cramped, sweaty, uncomfartable, the floor was wet and just when I thougth it couldnt get any worse some guy snorted something in the next stall and started banging on the partition between us.

I remember just closing my eyes throwing my head back and thinking, theres no way I can get any lower than this.

Paris Hilton

That's hot.

TyeDye

Paris Hilton wrote:

That's hot.

Thanks appreciate it.... welcome to the board

ISN

she sounds like a five year old minnie driver,,,,,gheggege....kidding.....(I'm pretending 2b durnk)......Paris Hilton.....how do you expect? anyone to take you seriously.....I certainly don't Mr......gee I might sign in as Roberta Dylano......hehehehe.....ignore me Padre for I have sinned.......I know those loos in Covent Garden are so grotty......personally, I never used them.....but I have eaten in some good places aroudn there.....plus the Irish shop is there.....where everything's guaranteed Irish......and they have the DK shop....ya know tha publishers......pretty much everything is around covent garden.....I dreamt last night that I got a salary of $1800 from my new job.....and before I got a taxi home (and after I sliced someone with my sword), I went shopping in Harvey Nicks.....except it was Harvey Norman.....and I bought 5 bottles of Johnson's baby cream for $8.....and it was like an emporium......I looked at some t-shirts that were too small.....but gorgeous.....and I found some tealight candles.....and then I saw this beautiful display with quills and ink, and remembered that I needed to get a pen for my diary......I remember shopping in Covent Garden, although the market itself is pretty crap, but the cobble streets are gorgeous (my Mum bought me a blue and brown jumper from Benneton and a pair of light blue chords - strange the way blue and brown match).....and then there's accesorize.....and the ball gown shop.....I bought one of the most beautiful skirts I've ever seen in Covent Garden......a kind of Diana blue silk with pleats......I wore it for ages......sorry about this......this is what you call verbal diarrhoea.......but at the same time, it means something.....ya know? all these memories, and my son.....now......what next?

pearlmutt

James Joyce (Irish right?) stream of consciousness -- love it ISN.

You said, the runs of the mouth (or fingers really) somewhere else in some other words, but I say stream of consciousness. What's in a fucking name? That is one of the all time best questions.

Also your posts, remarks, poems make me think of this song that one of my coworkers, I mean students, gave me the other day -- straylight run is the name of the group -- I don't know the title, my friend, I mean student, or was it co-worker, goes, it's so emo -- I'm like what's that -- he's like just listen. I'm like okay (cause we're being kids now.)

So it says something to the effect of -- sing like no one else is listening . . . you would kill for this . . . sing me something soft and (can't remember) or something out of key (I'm misquoting terribly) . . . anyway, I listened and then I said, oh yes, Eddie Vedder "Just sing loud cause you're outside, sing loud cause you're still alive, Just sing."

And he said, hmmmm. Exactly.

ISN, you sing like no one is listening -- but the funny thing is, well, you know the funny thing.