Matt Pocock

His eyes reflect the golden fire, his pupils burning bright
As he turns away they feel a sudden, crying urge to fight
Big Old Ben has run away, they always thought it might
London's Burning
...

Goodbye, City of Blinding Lights
You never were my friend
I was born to you, my sweetheart but
You'll never see my end
...

A Skyman floats from crackling sunlit sky
With full intention to himself deny
He takes a pull upon his parachute
And as it's failing, falls to fear's fruit
...

The electricity in the lamp light is too much for me
I don't pretend to preach any kind of philosophy
The jesus jackanories can only sit and speak
As an angel on the double carriageway falls asleep
...

Forget about your country's history
To hell with all the zionistic imagery
The grudges that you hold don't matter really
I don't care about your religious integrity
...

There's a branch way up high in the great forest's leaves
There's a fungus that grows there, delicious and green
And all the ground bugs are in great ecstasy
For today it will fall, said an old prophecy
...

She found herself awake, abreast
Of street, some new-found God had blessed
Her with some new-found spirit: Anger.
Her phone vibrates, her 'mother' rang her.
...

A man who fires a gun is cursed
With some unflat'ring title. Worse,
He faces prosecution thus
And other such unholy fuss.
...

My calling came upon the hour of noon.
For when, they said, my time will finish soon.
And as I lay upon the camping bed,
I knew that very soon I would be dead.
...

What if the police were yet dissolved,
By some old conflict unresolved?
Would mankind lay to rest their arms?
Or would they lay to rest their qualms?
...

Hello, my dear Charmaine
This candle that I hold in the
Darkness of your serenity
Cannot be waxed or waned
...

All I own is hurting me
Unknown, unshown, inscribed in me
A picture perfect phantasy
A veil to hide iniquity
...

Resting spread-eagled on a plate of spinning happiness
Caught in tangled webs of song and voice
But shunned deep into a warehouse of remorseless stupidity
Devoid of life. Created simply to be a brick in the church
...

I hate these shopping bags
They weigh my body down
They keep me on the beaten track
They break every bone in my back
...