I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
thankfully not in a medical way
i don't have to pop pills everyday
to keep an essence of danger under control
and to stop my head doing backward flips and forward rolls
to curtail bad thoughts and contain OCD
wake up and think "what's happening to me?"
but sometimes i'm full of mazey bomb blasts
and crazy contrasts,
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
I say work i'm not even gonna give 50% percent never mind double
but i'll stay just below the warning threshold so i don't really get in trouble,
i do see my sick days as extra days of annual leave
but my bums on my seat most of the year and at least one Eve.
I'm always ducking and diving, i hide and they seek,
but i hit my targets every week.
They can say put down your pens,
strip your pencils of lead,
you can't stop me writing in my head
But you'll sometimes dictate what time i go to bed.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
Nearly every road i walk down i've got a ***** cat friend
there meowing never drives me round the bend
but if me owing then just a letter i'll send.
I’ll rescue  spiders from the bath, without any exception,
But I’ll clean their webs and evict them when I have a house inspection.
Giving up pork, on a parity with pigges at last
But then i broke my faste with bacon for breakfast
Watching lambs a gamboling there frolicking is fab,
but i'll see you on a plate later if i'm craving a kebab.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite.
Money and the capitalist structure baffles, no thanks, no ta
but before i go out a quick sub off Ma and Pa.
I'll pay for a taxi, i don't care about the amount,
while checking fervently the statement from my bank account.
Cash cannot be eaten it just gets you into Eton
but i'll rifle through my pockets for pennies to get an eat on
i don't adore you, i'll say your the means to an end
but then i spend some more and ask for a lend.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite.
I'll say anarchy  is everywhere, petition and abstain
then  read in the late edition who i think should take the reins.  
I scream smash the system without any regrets
but then start stubbing out where they deem no cigarettes.
I'll say **** big business they are always looting tons
while cutting out Asda coupons to get the soup with croutons.
i'll say **** materialism, to that i am adverse,
"ohh if you want to get me some trainers Mum can you make em Converse? "
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
One Saturday i found it hard to move
crying out for water, more than needing food,
stomach emptier than the packets in my pockets
Early winter scribble
spoiled by the ripple of rain,
deadened and dull
on a precious day,
the time I crave
passes through a husk
full of caves.
Each inhabitant curses
and burns
the stagnant soil under their feet,
I want something to eat.
I need to drink.
The cold slab of sink
lures flesh to rest,
unsatisfied
with retched offerings
flung from a scorched earth
so next Friday, a few beers and l I’ll hit the hay
Ten beers later, where’s the MDMA?
And my staunch resolutions go up my nose
Chatting through the night, striking a pose,
Music accentuated, stars sparkling hard
World’s discussed in magic back yards,
Focused and fraught in tumultuous thought
Ten cigs in an hour
An hours too short,
As the morning comes, I start feeling a mess
It slowly disintegrates the treasure in my chest,
Feelings of strength crumble to a feeble frame,
Spears in my head, WHOOPS I’VE DONE IT AGAIN.
You’ll stop this time, I curse and lecture,
Two bottles down next Friday etc etc,
I’m a schizophrenic hypocrite
I remember an uneventful Tuesday when i wasn't working
belly full of rice
and i saw you twice,
two times a day,
on a day in lieu,
time stood still,
smiling at you
i thought i'm gonna have to write about you,
so i park myself in a bar after a joint in Netto carpark
and start using words to build an arc
and if you you do wanna walk in two by two,
can i walk in with you?
Is it this green ride that's getting me high
or the regret i seen in the gleam of your eye
that as soon as we said hi we said bye,
as disappointed as the catcher when he dropped the rye.
If i may be so bold,
if you were cold
i wouldn't hail these stones
i'd pummel Jack Frost until he knows he's lost,
i'll leave all the lights on to hasten global warming
make Obama declare winter a season of mourning,
If you met an iceberg of Titanic  proportions
i'd cut through it quicker than the Ripper does back street abortions.
If you were in prism
i'd try to unrangle the science of triangles
so i could build you a pyramid with all the right angles,
my stomachs in knots;
the most tranquil of tangles.
Then i saw you get out of the lift
and i wanted to play you a rift
until you exposed your midriff
because you set me adrift from chains and shackles
my mind goes crazy and fills with cackles,
i crackle with lightning, my energy heightens
my heart tightens
and not cos of cholesterol
cos i think you're special
and celestial!
I got dreams from naught, my head feels taught,
i prised a lesson from your eyes,
love is the greatest prize.
But now that's gone, all things
pass evolution in transience
faces that were everything lost to balance
blue it merge
but seldom a residual surge
and your bark today was worst than your bite
it said something softly,
i sow the seeds for the sycamore trees
we can carve our names on next summer.
Under an endless stretching sky
you wrote you
and i wrote i,
the lights in our eyes don't lie
they are gateways to the suns inside,
our hearts couldn't hide from this brightening tide.
I'm a Schizophrenic hypocrite
I remember this guy from work, cooed to me
look at the **** on this page 3
he drooled over Nuts magazine like he belonged in a zoo
i bet he frequented strippers too.
He said seen this clip, it's ******* great,
it ad turn a couple of queers straight
it was these two twins with rouge lips being rude,
the way she chomped on her like food
and they defo loved it,there is  no doubt
it's just just ***** Eskimo ******* kissing snouts
and sharing with her sister the joy of getting licked out.
Wonder how they looked in the family car?
giggling about some exciting destination,
like all kids displaying a lack of patience,
“are we there yet” chorused with glee and duality,
dressed in the same clothes to ensure parity.
Ice cream for tea.
Maybe they might be way into drugs
or addled with addiction
lacking hugs
and sore from the friction.
Not liking the glare
feeling scared.
maybe?
He said nar they love it up them baby.
But then,
i have it
about 3 or 4 times a week
after the 5th time of hitting snooze,
or a heavy night on the *****,
or sometimes no beer,
even after a sonnet of Shakespeare
a sudden urge comes over me,
GET THE LAPTOP!
GET THE *******!
Then it's
Japanese teen lesbians spitting,
finger ******* wearing mittens,
****'s ******* Britions,
oap creampies
***** covered eyes
***** flicking,
extreme suction,
**** destruction,
Captain Birds Eye gobbing
Batman ******* Robin,
A ten inch plumber ******* in a kitchen sink drama
Robert de Niro unpeeling Bananarama
Marty doing the Doc
a gimped up Kirk whipping Spoc
Rita  ******* Norris
Gail licking Fizz
Sally doing Dev
and Kevin doing ki.............Kevin, get out of the room.
Back to
a **** doing a ******
a pre op pleasuring granny
two ***** one *****,
then i chuck my muck all over my tunic
flip over and continue reading The Female ******,
I'm a Schizophrenic Hypocrite,
i've gotta split.

Veins, veins,
length and breadth,
intertwined

beats to freedom
or desolation;
a terminus

lost on a circular.
An ebbing destination,
unchartered targets,

Follow the signs.
We are a one way street,
follow the signs

on software maps.
Stumped
by sequential lights

and us, caught
in a dragnet
within steely fish,

gasping for air,
choking on smoke,
bilious coughs,

hacking sputum,
gobbing phlegm globs
in interval gaps

within gridlocks;
nose to **** to
nose to ****.

The rage, the stares
the shouts, the finger,
the Grrr’s, the Rrrr’s,

the honks, the blares,
the bumper to bumper
expletive shares.

The rolling down,
the alighting,
the threats,

the fighting.
The falling down,
the separation,

reseating,
the rolling,
the thunder,

the trudge,
the stops, the starts.
Follow the signs,

follow the signs.
Robotic conveyors
for humans,

mechanical
fossil fueled
chariots,

grumbling, grunting,
wheee-ing and
screeching,

and screaming
and spewing
and chuffing

and guffing
black plumes,
air tarred,

veins, veins
clogged and bogged,
viscous, molasses,

liquid black blob.
Road fogged,
numbers logged.

Veins, veins,
follow the signs,
slow crawl.

Veins, veins,
follow the signs,
follow the signs,

sprawl.

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017

Gobbing and thrashing
       To Jello Biafra,
Before your damascene conversion into
        Something from Kafka,
The feminist utopia -
        A left wing theocracy,
You should have read Forster's
   Two Cheers for Democracy,
With red dead Cortez
      In her little white coat,
Where only lunatics and women
     Bother to vote.
The boys get a mantra
    A three syllable jingle,
The reason he topped himself?
    The reason you're single?

One of Barry Hodges' (aka Edna's)  charming "Memories" poems

I was in the office with my colleague plump Bet
[totally one of the filthiest ***** I have ever met,
a woman so indiscriminate in selecting a bloke
that no one could be ugly enough to miss out on a poke]
When we heard the news about the Twin Towers attack,
And dear Betty was seized laughing, an aphrodisiac
So fervent it resulted in her gobbing out a lump of phlegm
Green and hideously noisome, a truly lovely gem;
"Splot"* it went onto the floor, lying there reminiscent
Of a frog hit by a passing ten ton lorry laden with cement.

I recognised the symptoms of her desire unfolding
Only too well; I knew that when she got really going
With a frenzied bout of combined giggling and regurgitation,
Only one thing could bring her back to cruel reality: mass copulation.
Thus you will not need to be a polymath to realise and know
That what fat Bet required was to be ******, fast not slow,
By at least half a dozen strong hairy men of lengthy measure
And preferably up her fat ******* for max sensual pleasure,
Whilst she doled out ******* to anyone who offered
To risk their ***** in her mouth so kindly proffered.

Thus it came to pass that I rushed through the corridors
And yelled out to one and all "Betty's got the ******",
Whereupon every red-blooded chappie in the office
[including the one-legged dwarf printer Smelly Boris,
he of the infamous wart-encrusted, donkey ****]
Dropped what he was doing and rushed to the fray headlong
Eager to get their hands on waiting Bet, without fear,  
To give her one up her quivering flabby rear
Before it got too well-stretched, with gape and sag,
Like an old, empty, recyclable, inverted shopping bag.

So, we turned on the TV set to keep an eye on
All the happenings in distant Manhattan
And to keep Bet's state of excitement on the ball;
Dear reader, if anyone ever asks me "Old chap, do you recall
Where you were when the WTC came down?"I can't forget
That, eager to get stuck in, I had just got my turn with waiting Bet,  
And seeing I was twelfth in line to give her a good poking
Her ***-hole was well and truly greased for action, O 'twas soaking.
In conclusion, my hearing was seriously damaged by her sublime
Multi-decibel screams of lust. Begorrah, but I had a grand old time.

All we get is rhetoric,they're just gobbing off and I'm sick of it
we ought to send the ****** lot down the pit
I'm so frustrated I could spit.

They're bearing down on me in Downing street, building
high rise homes but
tearing down the street where I grew up,it
makes me want to throw up,show up with a deputation to
state the case for conservation,but they never listen to the likes
of me,
that's democracy,a bunch of scheming hypocrites sitting in their leather seats and tearing down my ****** streets,the ones where I grew up.

Well,
**** me, fracking's got to be the only saving grace I see,they say they'll frack far,far below,
ha,
so
them ******* at the top will be the first to know
when the whole world falls apart and
the last to bleedin' go.

There was once a random fusion of cells who answered to the combination of sounds that when ordered in a particular way together said:
'G E O R G E'
    and he fumbled and stumbled and over used his words,
and one could hear him from miles around gobbing and yobbing. Just one big sound.
That tongue never stopped rolling, and noise never stopped emanating. A walking compressment of carbon molecules in-disguise, his secret persona being a speaker.
And he would speak out of his sickingly momentous beak.
And make others quite tired and weak..
All hours for a whole week
an infinite roll a pancake chatter.
natter and tatter
a roll of noise
a one man band come splattering and chattering in through your life and then he would yell over the hill again.
And like in some chapter book in the law of physics it is often understood that when a subject something exhibiting noise gets further and further away from the subject, the sound becomes less and less due to distance.
This does not apply to a George.
And like the sound barrier,
WHY.. what is this sound BARRIER you speak of?
if you go to this such barrier, and take a left and follow this ruckus of English yells you shall find him somewhere way above yonder.
Having a *** and having a ponder, who ever knew you could do this so loudly? who ever knew one took this so proudly.
Inhaling oxygen.. exhaling carbon dioxide?
Inhaling? Nein. drawing breath? why does one need rest? valuable seconds are wasting, I need to keep on sound demonstrating.

a glum thickly dolloping gray today to day i say this day i say today today
   (a lip is twice as thick when knuckles tumble rumble numbly bumble
over pearled lengths of ivory smearing in his gobbing gabbing moral oral
    silence bruising orifice)
in class
               listening shortly
                                           to hard and bitter wafts
                                                                                    arrogant and nimbly shoveled
"he was 20lbs heavier than me"

The Bat-signal isn't working
that signal's ******,
the commissioner's on his own
I think that his goose is cooked.

Oh, Batman,
don't be a wuss.
said Robin, gobbing off,
fobbing off the remark
as you do in the dark,
Batman
paid Robin no heed,

two men in tights have no need to explain,
explaining would be a pain in
the ****.