All I will say is those responsible for the damage the last few days has made me feel so ashamed of being a Londoner, but the Clean Up Crews capital wide gave me back a sense of hope and pride that we can come back from this in their unity. I call for peace on the streets and let our communities come together in harmony and rebuild what others have so cruelly taken from us.
Presenting 'Shame' the first poetic collab by Angee & Marina....
I feel ashamed to say I live in London
Because the actions of the few reflect on all
I feel ashamed to say I live in London
Because in this city I used to be able to stand proud and tall
Ping! Let’s stop the postcode war
And all go rob a store.
This devastating burden of crime and pain
Don’t rest on me I don’t care I’m unashamed.
Is London burning because the power hungry hesitate?
Is no one learning from past rioting mistakes?
Why does the heart of London’s disenfranchised ache?
Only to see police flee and fall back from their angers rising wake…
Ping! Where you at?
I’m in Clapham and my pockets are getting fat.
We got one purpose, one thought, one goal
To see how much our hands can hold.
People are crying because their dreams are dying
All the while politicians and police are still lying
Covering up what they did and what they failed to do,
All the while their undercovers stir up a poisoned brew.
Ping! Ping! Where the police at?
Sssssssssssssh you mouth and pass me dat hat.
Put it on over mans dem head
We need to hide our face from the feds.
Seeing how youths are coming together
Looting and robbing is now done just for fun
At least they’re not shooting each other
They came together without a gun.
Ping! Whose that on your phone?
It’s my mum she’s crying, telling me to come home.
Mommer Bwoy! That’s so just wack!
Why don't she go back to smoking her crack?
Parents at home asking where are our kids?
When they finally come home with that LCD
How will they explain to us with no job
They can afford such a big TV?
Ping! Don't she know man has to run?
Why’s this woman always trying
To spoil man an man’s fun?
At least, today I don’t need a gun.
With all this rioting
Have you heard any shots?
All I’m hearing are voices screaming out
“We’re gonna take what you got!”
Ping! What! You want to stop me?
You can't stop me, as I will multiply at least by 3
Then to replace me 30 more
Will come knocking at your door
The fight for justice is a cover
This is rage, it’s not a yearning
This is children supposedly having fun
But all they do is leave London burning.
Ping! Who started this war?
Fools can't stop me, I walk straight though any door
I put my fist right in their face
I’ll show them it’s not just about one race
The Turks in Dalston came together
They defended their own territory
As one they rose up to the thugs
As one they said you will have to come through me!
Ping! Yo Blud! You watching the fire roar?
Let’s hide these things behind that door.
Look! Did you see that man?
Why is he waving, does he want water or a fan?
The looters are getting looted
The survivors are getting robbed
Everyone is just out for themselves
Damn dirty stinking criminal yobs!
Ping! Please come home?
Shut up women who cares if, you’re all alone
My family’s here So I am never alone
And if the truth be told, I am already home
People getting trapped in businesses
Lone women getting jacked for their cars
I hope that all these sad fuckers
Get prosecuted ending up behind bars
Ping! Political movement? NOT
Or we’d be knocking on the Queen’s door
We're here to take what we can take
We’re having too much fun for fucks sake
There are no aliens looking for a fight
This isn’t a film called attack the block
This is a gang of fearless youths
Testing their might by attacking cops
Ping! You know you can't stop me!
I am everywhere can't you see?
The world is mine, I pick and choose
I can do and take what I please.
But we feel ashamed to say we live in London
Because the actions of the few reflect on all
We feel ashamed to say we live in London
Because in this city we used to be able to stand proud and tall.
(C)9th August 2011 Angela Edgar & Marina Bayley
All Rights Reserved
Sunday, 14 August 2011
Monday, 8 August 2011
THE FIRE BURNED IT ALL (Poem)
The fire burned it all
It wiped my slate clean
As I watched the things
I’d worked so hard for
Engulfed in plumes of black smoke
Gently licked by raging red and yellow flames
I could only fall to my knees and cry
When the fire burned it all.
Items of no monetary value
But which were sentimentally irreplaceable
Were ignited to ash
Photo edges curled and crisped
There was nothing that this fire would miss
It had a life
A will of its own
It took my home
Claimed it as its new throne
Nosing through my personal things
Flaming fingers melted diamond encrusted rings
Investigating every cranny and nook
It hurt me the most
When it torched my paintings… writing… books
WHOOOUMMPHH!!!
There it goes…
For some it is the start
For others the end of woes
WHOOOUMMPHH!!!
There it is…
Something breaks, melts and starts to fizz
Flaming fingers…
Flickerty flick…
Burning tongues…
Lickety lick…
My whole life gone before my eyes
I couldn’t stop it, even when I tried...
The water flowed
But the fire was stronger
I walked away broken
I couldn’t watch any longer…
Seeing my childhood go up in smoke
Invasion of privacy
By fiery pokes and prods…
I shouted out loud,
“Where are you God?”
“Why do you let my life be burned?”
“Am I being punished for a past wrong turn?”
“Is this a lesson that you want me to learn?”
I took a breath and finally looked back
Thereafter remembering Lot’s wife who was turned to salt
I realised then that it wasn’t really my fault
For me to get up after a fall
I had to rise up
When the fire burned it all.
©25th August 2010 – 02:09am Angela Edgar All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised reproduction prohibited.
MCN: CHTG1-Y2WQ7-VNR4C
Listen to my reading of it here at about 1hr 14mins in.
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/allwaysreal/2010/09/06/open-mic-night
It wiped my slate clean
As I watched the things
I’d worked so hard for
Engulfed in plumes of black smoke
Gently licked by raging red and yellow flames
I could only fall to my knees and cry
When the fire burned it all.
Items of no monetary value
But which were sentimentally irreplaceable
Were ignited to ash
Photo edges curled and crisped
There was nothing that this fire would miss
It had a life
A will of its own
It took my home
Claimed it as its new throne
Nosing through my personal things
Flaming fingers melted diamond encrusted rings
Investigating every cranny and nook
It hurt me the most
When it torched my paintings… writing… books
WHOOOUMMPHH!!!
There it goes…
For some it is the start
For others the end of woes
WHOOOUMMPHH!!!
There it is…
Something breaks, melts and starts to fizz
Flaming fingers…
Flickerty flick…
Burning tongues…
Lickety lick…
My whole life gone before my eyes
I couldn’t stop it, even when I tried...
The water flowed
But the fire was stronger
I walked away broken
I couldn’t watch any longer…
Seeing my childhood go up in smoke
Invasion of privacy
By fiery pokes and prods…
I shouted out loud,
“Where are you God?”
“Why do you let my life be burned?”
“Am I being punished for a past wrong turn?”
“Is this a lesson that you want me to learn?”
I took a breath and finally looked back
Thereafter remembering Lot’s wife who was turned to salt
I realised then that it wasn’t really my fault
For me to get up after a fall
I had to rise up
When the fire burned it all.
©25th August 2010 – 02:09am Angela Edgar All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised reproduction prohibited.
MCN: CHTG1-Y2WQ7-VNR4C
Listen to my reading of it here at about 1hr 14mins in.
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/allwaysreal/2010/09/06/open-mic-night
Sunday, 7 August 2011
"HE'S GONE" Exclusive Poetry Collaboration: Angela Edgar & Donna Parkinson
He’s gone and I can’t believe,
I just can’t conceive,
Why my son would be taken this way,
After today,
There is no yesterday,
No tomorrow,
And from now on I will need to borrow,
A future, because mine is dead,
I sit by his bed,
Knowing that I will never again hear him say “Morning Mum”,
I will never get to know the adult he would have become,
I won’t ever hear him laugh or cry,
He won’t utter a sigh,
He never even got to say goodbye,
Why?
Because 15 years of life,
Have been stolen by the slash of a knife,
Held in the hands of another adolescent,
This scenario now incessant,
On the cold dark street,
Signed, sealed and delivered by the concrete,
And I can’t even hate,
Because my son’s fate,
Is another mother’s nightmare,
She will have her fair share,
Living in the shadow of the despair,
That her seed extinguished a flame,
Knowing that the light that bore my child’s name,
Flickered and expired in his hand,
I understand,
The pain,
Her boy took my boy’s life in vain,
And this thought will forever remain,
In her mind,
So we are in some strange way combined,
In our grief, as our thoughts are entwined,
In non belief…We are both resigned,
To the stark reality we call life,
And united by the destruction caused when you pick up the knife,
See, my son is gone I know he ain’t coming back,
The superficial evidence of his existence is now inscribed on a plaque,
Above his grave… my only treasure,
And her son is serving life at her majesties pleasure,
So how can either of us even begin to measure?
The extent of our failing,
And the concrete smiles; its victory prevailing,
Lording over 2 mothers and a shocked community,
As we cry for every missed opportunity,
And pray for impunity…..
They were only 15 and they had their whole lives ahead,
Yet the street left one incarcerated and the other one dead,
Its time for change, street purification,
Do we really need further justification?
© 26th July 2011 Donna Parkinson
http://www.facebook.com/Persona.Poetry
He’s gone and I can’t believe,
I just can’t conceive,
Why my son would take another mothers’ son away,
I never brought up my son to stray
I never taught him to run the street
I gave him every opportunity
To make him feel special and unique
To educate him, teach him well,
Now my life feels like it’s all gone to hell
But still, I cannot even begin to fathom
The depth of guilt he makes me feel
Now I go to church every day and in the pews kneel
Praying and looking heaven-ward trying to understand why
Why a different mother’s heart is cut deep like a knife
Just like the one my son used to take her son’s life
The tears fall and cannot ever stop
Then I consider…
Is a knife wound worse than dying from a shot?
Regardless of release by an itchy trigger finger
The pain and fear as either touches lives will forever linger…
I cannot begin to comprehend how she must feel
Like she won’t be able to comprehend my remorse and shame
That my 15 year old son chose to run game
To get a rep, to show others he was the best
That he had some surefire balls of steel
To get initiated he had to show he was deep and real…
And because of that
She now prepares a funeral
As I prepare for court
My son will be dished a sour lesson
One which he should never have been taught
As she will go to visit a headstone
So will I have to visit a different kind of tomb
One that will for the rest of his living life
House the boy child I birthed from my womb
Like her,
My son won’t greet me to say, ”Morning Mum.”
He won’t grow up into the man he should have become
Every sunrise will peep at him from behind bars
And through those same bars watching him sleep are the stars
Under which this mother also lies curled in a ball at night grieving
So do I too, but for many differing reasons
I cry at my own motherly failings
Asking what else could I have done?
This battle our children fight with each other
When will we step in so this war can finally be over and won?
I wonder if this other mother will hate me?
I wonder if my own family will forsake me?
I wonder if my son has ever loved me?
I wonder when I look in the mirror,
Will even I ever stop wanting to shun me?
In despair, I rage at his father’s inability to connect with him
Just when he needed him the most
When he should have been at home, talking and schooling him
He was out in the club ah toast
So I try to feel what she feels
So I try to get inside her head
But give up because it’s too hard knowing
Both our sons are dead
Hers buried because of mine
And mine banged up for that heinously vain crime
But both our sons are gone
We’ve lost our baby boys,
Both our sons are victims
They are never coming back
The streets again run victorious
Because of such needless wanton acts
Its time for change, street purification…
After this… We really don’t need further justification.
©27th July 2011 Angela Edgar
I just can’t conceive,
Why my son would be taken this way,
After today,
There is no yesterday,
No tomorrow,
And from now on I will need to borrow,
A future, because mine is dead,
I sit by his bed,
Knowing that I will never again hear him say “Morning Mum”,
I will never get to know the adult he would have become,
I won’t ever hear him laugh or cry,
He won’t utter a sigh,
He never even got to say goodbye,
Why?
Because 15 years of life,
Have been stolen by the slash of a knife,
Held in the hands of another adolescent,
This scenario now incessant,
On the cold dark street,
Signed, sealed and delivered by the concrete,
And I can’t even hate,
Because my son’s fate,
Is another mother’s nightmare,
She will have her fair share,
Living in the shadow of the despair,
That her seed extinguished a flame,
Knowing that the light that bore my child’s name,
Flickered and expired in his hand,
I understand,
The pain,
Her boy took my boy’s life in vain,
And this thought will forever remain,
In her mind,
So we are in some strange way combined,
In our grief, as our thoughts are entwined,
In non belief…We are both resigned,
To the stark reality we call life,
And united by the destruction caused when you pick up the knife,
See, my son is gone I know he ain’t coming back,
The superficial evidence of his existence is now inscribed on a plaque,
Above his grave… my only treasure,
And her son is serving life at her majesties pleasure,
So how can either of us even begin to measure?
The extent of our failing,
And the concrete smiles; its victory prevailing,
Lording over 2 mothers and a shocked community,
As we cry for every missed opportunity,
And pray for impunity…..
They were only 15 and they had their whole lives ahead,
Yet the street left one incarcerated and the other one dead,
Its time for change, street purification,
Do we really need further justification?
© 26th July 2011 Donna Parkinson
http://www.facebook.com/Persona.Poetry
He’s gone and I can’t believe,
I just can’t conceive,
Why my son would take another mothers’ son away,
I never brought up my son to stray
I never taught him to run the street
I gave him every opportunity
To make him feel special and unique
To educate him, teach him well,
Now my life feels like it’s all gone to hell
But still, I cannot even begin to fathom
The depth of guilt he makes me feel
Now I go to church every day and in the pews kneel
Praying and looking heaven-ward trying to understand why
Why a different mother’s heart is cut deep like a knife
Just like the one my son used to take her son’s life
The tears fall and cannot ever stop
Then I consider…
Is a knife wound worse than dying from a shot?
Regardless of release by an itchy trigger finger
The pain and fear as either touches lives will forever linger…
I cannot begin to comprehend how she must feel
Like she won’t be able to comprehend my remorse and shame
That my 15 year old son chose to run game
To get a rep, to show others he was the best
That he had some surefire balls of steel
To get initiated he had to show he was deep and real…
And because of that
She now prepares a funeral
As I prepare for court
My son will be dished a sour lesson
One which he should never have been taught
As she will go to visit a headstone
So will I have to visit a different kind of tomb
One that will for the rest of his living life
House the boy child I birthed from my womb
Like her,
My son won’t greet me to say, ”Morning Mum.”
He won’t grow up into the man he should have become
Every sunrise will peep at him from behind bars
And through those same bars watching him sleep are the stars
Under which this mother also lies curled in a ball at night grieving
So do I too, but for many differing reasons
I cry at my own motherly failings
Asking what else could I have done?
This battle our children fight with each other
When will we step in so this war can finally be over and won?
I wonder if this other mother will hate me?
I wonder if my own family will forsake me?
I wonder if my son has ever loved me?
I wonder when I look in the mirror,
Will even I ever stop wanting to shun me?
In despair, I rage at his father’s inability to connect with him
Just when he needed him the most
When he should have been at home, talking and schooling him
He was out in the club ah toast
So I try to feel what she feels
So I try to get inside her head
But give up because it’s too hard knowing
Both our sons are dead
Hers buried because of mine
And mine banged up for that heinously vain crime
But both our sons are gone
We’ve lost our baby boys,
Both our sons are victims
They are never coming back
The streets again run victorious
Because of such needless wanton acts
Its time for change, street purification…
After this… We really don’t need further justification.
©27th July 2011 Angela Edgar
LONDON'S BURNING (Poem)
Now I'm not going to say what is happening is Tottenham is right, but people are heated...
You have got to remember the only ones who are going to suffer the most are the ones in the local community whose jobs, homes and livelihoods have been effectively wiped out by the looting and burning of the shops, the destruction of property or homes. Some top brass somewhere is laughing saying let them destroy each other and everything they have worked for and a question I keep seeing being asking so many times on blogs/twitter etc is... why are only cops getting interviewed? #JustMyOpinion.
YouTube Audio interview my friend sent me (after I wrote this poem) with a protester about what really sparked the riot: http://bit.ly/qnR9zS
(Photo: BBC NEWS)
LONDON'S BURNING (title suggested by Stennet)
London's burning feelings are churning
All because Mark Duggan's life was lost
London's burning male rage is yearning
Cops laugh saying "It's just another black gangsta we shot!"
Let's burn a cop car...
Let's petrol bomb a bus
Cops stand back laughing saying
"Let them do our work for us!"
Youngers with hoods on
When they should be tucked up in bed
Going out to earn their stripes
By kicking in someone's head.
Where's the order?
Who's in control?
Tottenham is rioting
Haringey's initiating new blood into the fold.
But wait, didn't it all start peaceably?
Only tempers got frayed quite heatedly
Protesting legitimately for another unlawful police death
Someone will have to answer to this hot mess.
Blackberried youths
Receiving a ping
Who's controlling this fire?
Send a group broadcast to rope more people in.
Outta area militants using a family's grief
To cause more fuss
Missiles and fireworks launched
Any excuse to raze local businesses and homes to dust.
Those in the heart of it
Journalists documenting the war
They are beaten, their cameras stolen
They're left knocked out cold on the floor.
Looting, burning, rioting
Is this a sign of the times?
Public demanding answers from the police
All everyone wants is the truth to the shoot... so give us that at least.
(C)6th August 2011 Angela Edgar All Rights Reserved
You have got to remember the only ones who are going to suffer the most are the ones in the local community whose jobs, homes and livelihoods have been effectively wiped out by the looting and burning of the shops, the destruction of property or homes. Some top brass somewhere is laughing saying let them destroy each other and everything they have worked for and a question I keep seeing being asking so many times on blogs/twitter etc is... why are only cops getting interviewed? #JustMyOpinion.
YouTube Audio interview my friend sent me (after I wrote this poem) with a protester about what really sparked the riot: http://bit.ly/qnR9zS
(Photo: BBC NEWS)
LONDON'S BURNING (title suggested by Stennet)
London's burning feelings are churning
All because Mark Duggan's life was lost
London's burning male rage is yearning
Cops laugh saying "It's just another black gangsta we shot!"
Let's burn a cop car...
Let's petrol bomb a bus
Cops stand back laughing saying
"Let them do our work for us!"
Youngers with hoods on
When they should be tucked up in bed
Going out to earn their stripes
By kicking in someone's head.
Where's the order?
Who's in control?
Tottenham is rioting
Haringey's initiating new blood into the fold.
But wait, didn't it all start peaceably?
Only tempers got frayed quite heatedly
Protesting legitimately for another unlawful police death
Someone will have to answer to this hot mess.
Blackberried youths
Receiving a ping
Who's controlling this fire?
Send a group broadcast to rope more people in.
Outta area militants using a family's grief
To cause more fuss
Missiles and fireworks launched
Any excuse to raze local businesses and homes to dust.
Those in the heart of it
Journalists documenting the war
They are beaten, their cameras stolen
They're left knocked out cold on the floor.
Looting, burning, rioting
Is this a sign of the times?
Public demanding answers from the police
All everyone wants is the truth to the shoot... so give us that at least.
(C)6th August 2011 Angela Edgar All Rights Reserved
Thursday, 2 June 2011
Urban Cinnamon - THE BOOK LAUNCH EVENT - Sunday 31st July 2011
http://www.facebook.com/UrbanCinnamon
You are cordially invited to the Double Book Launch Event for the release of 2 fantastic new Poetry books by
Angela Edgar aka Angee-Licious & Donna Parkinson aka D'Persona:
AND
Entertainment:
DJ's Macca C & Ricardo Rocafella from UNIQUE 101.2FM
with Music, Poetry and Special Guest Artists including
Reggae Legend, Winston Francis.
Books & CD's for sale on the night.
*****Tickets cost £10 & get you entry & get a FREE signed book*****
***** SECURE ONLINE PAYMENT LINK AT THE TOP OF THE PAGE*****
or go to http://www.poetryforschools.com
~ Prefer to get it in person? Delivery available
Call Angee: 07985 650 009 (BBP 2343DC89)
*****Tickets available NOW & moving fast.*****
*****Get yours before they sell out!!!*****
For more information on Artists/Books etc - please visit:
http://www.facebook.com/UrbanCinnamon
******************************************************************
VENUE DIRECTIONS:
CLICK HERE FOR LINK TO MAP
TRAINS: London Overground & Bakerloo Line - Kenton - 5 min walk
Metropolitan Line - Northwick Park - 10 min walk
BUSES: 114, 183, H9, H10, H18, H19, 223 all stop outside the bar
PARKING: No restrictions for parking on a Sunday - main road or side streets. Sainsbury's Car Park is a 5 min walk away)
You are cordially invited to the Double Book Launch Event for the release of 2 fantastic new Poetry books by
Angela Edgar aka Angee-Licious & Donna Parkinson aka D'Persona:
AND
Entertainment:
DJ's Macca C & Ricardo Rocafella from UNIQUE 101.2FM
with Music, Poetry and Special Guest Artists including
Reggae Legend, Winston Francis.
Books & CD's for sale on the night.
*****Tickets cost £10 & get you entry & get a FREE signed book*****
***** SECURE ONLINE PAYMENT LINK AT THE TOP OF THE PAGE*****
or go to http://www.poetryforschools.com
~ Prefer to get it in person? Delivery available
Call Angee: 07985 650 009 (BBP 2343DC89)
*****Tickets available NOW & moving fast.*****
*****Get yours before they sell out!!!*****
For more information on Artists/Books etc - please visit:
http://www.facebook.com/UrbanCinnamon
******************************************************************
VENUE DIRECTIONS:
CLICK HERE FOR LINK TO MAP
TRAINS: London Overground & Bakerloo Line - Kenton - 5 min walk
Metropolitan Line - Northwick Park - 10 min walk
BUSES: 114, 183, H9, H10, H18, H19, 223 all stop outside the bar
PARKING: No restrictions for parking on a Sunday - main road or side streets. Sainsbury's Car Park is a 5 min walk away)
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
"WET PANTY APPRECIATION"
The sight of you
Makes me drool
Gives me a flutter in my tummy
Gives me that tweak down below
That makes me leak in anticipation
You make it easy for me to give you
Some of my wet panty appreciation
You know
It's that kind of feeling
The one that builds and grows
Until I have to do something about it
Do I touch myself?
Or seek you out instead?
Imaging us tumbling,
Into a fresh laundered bed...
But I need some instant gratification
I've got a bad case of wet panty appreciation!
(C)6th September 2010-17:07pm Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Makes me drool
Gives me a flutter in my tummy
Gives me that tweak down below
That makes me leak in anticipation
You make it easy for me to give you
Some of my wet panty appreciation
You know
It's that kind of feeling
The one that builds and grows
Until I have to do something about it
Do I touch myself?
Or seek you out instead?
Imaging us tumbling,
Into a fresh laundered bed...
But I need some instant gratification
I've got a bad case of wet panty appreciation!
(C)6th September 2010-17:07pm Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
"PUT THE PUSSY ON THE BED"
'Put the pussy on the bed,' I said
Lay it out neatly there on the spread
I'll flick the catch
Smile and open the lid
For tomorrow you'll be bragging
About the nasty little things you did
Your slit it looks so inviting
Just like a sideways smile
You better get comfortable
Because I'll be here for a while
I lick your lips to make them moist
I lick mine to make them clean
I'll have you moaning and shouting for more,
Screaming, 'Papi, OH MY!! You are so thick and lean!'
(C)10th October 2010-01:29am Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Lay it out neatly there on the spread
I'll flick the catch
Smile and open the lid
For tomorrow you'll be bragging
About the nasty little things you did
Your slit it looks so inviting
Just like a sideways smile
You better get comfortable
Because I'll be here for a while
I lick your lips to make them moist
I lick mine to make them clean
I'll have you moaning and shouting for more,
Screaming, 'Papi, OH MY!! You are so thick and lean!'
(C)10th October 2010-01:29am Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
"HONEY ON MY SKIN"
You drip like honey on my skin
Slowly as you touch me
I want to taste you
You get sweeter as you spread…
My legs all over your bed
When my bud meets your head
Heaven’s around the corner…
Love me and let me be led…
©16th October 2008 -17:26pm Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised reproduction prohibited.
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK
Slowly as you touch me
I want to taste you
You get sweeter as you spread…
My legs all over your bed
When my bud meets your head
Heaven’s around the corner…
Love me and let me be led…
©16th October 2008 -17:26pm Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised reproduction prohibited.
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK
"FALL"
The start of fall I died
You did something to me
That truly opened my eyes
And with that fact I was no longer to be
Because this is the moment
When you killed me…
The start of fall I died
My heart stopped beating
My soul wept seas of salty tears
As I recall our very first meeting
It was the start of fall
The end of a passing summer trend
Full circle comes round again
This is when you killed me…
My homie, lover, friend.
© 2nd October 2008 – 06:29am Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised reproduction prohibited.
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK
You did something to me
That truly opened my eyes
And with that fact I was no longer to be
Because this is the moment
When you killed me…
The start of fall I died
My heart stopped beating
My soul wept seas of salty tears
As I recall our very first meeting
It was the start of fall
The end of a passing summer trend
Full circle comes round again
This is when you killed me…
My homie, lover, friend.
© 2nd October 2008 – 06:29am Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised reproduction prohibited.
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE"
“Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! I don’t want to die!”
These chilling words couldn’t fail not to haunt you
Not even if you tried
We manipulate the stakes
So as adults we know who we are
Our children often follow what we do
It is OUR responsibility to effect positive change
That is EVERYONE – which includes YOU.
Too many times are those words being said…
Too many times are our children being left for dead…
Moving away from what they’ve been taught to know
Because now they think it’s right
But they only end up misled down a wrong path
Flung headfirst screaming into someone else’s fight.
Sometimes it’s a case of wrong time and wrong place…
Sometimes it’s because someone did something to save face…
Sometimes it’s because something got out of hand…
Sometimes it’s a case of God abandoning the damned…
“Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!..”
Frighteningly uttered these words herald another child’s dying cries
Another life full of promise snuffed out
Another mother left wiping tears from dried out eyes.
No occasion for meting out street justice
Time to wait, give the law a chance
This time CCTV footage shows a pivotal moment
One that sealed and delivered a burning lance.
Praying that someone will give up the remaining culprits
Praying they’ll be properly punished when caught.
We’re left picking up the pieces on the outside
Hoping the case will make it all the way though court.
Though nothing done or said now
Can ever bring that child back from death
But it leaves us all skittish and wondering
Whose child will these streets touch next?
©14th July 2009- 14:12pm Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
These chilling words couldn’t fail not to haunt you
Not even if you tried
We manipulate the stakes
So as adults we know who we are
Our children often follow what we do
It is OUR responsibility to effect positive change
That is EVERYONE – which includes YOU.
Too many times are those words being said…
Too many times are our children being left for dead…
Moving away from what they’ve been taught to know
Because now they think it’s right
But they only end up misled down a wrong path
Flung headfirst screaming into someone else’s fight.
Sometimes it’s a case of wrong time and wrong place…
Sometimes it’s because someone did something to save face…
Sometimes it’s because something got out of hand…
Sometimes it’s a case of God abandoning the damned…
“Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!..”
Frighteningly uttered these words herald another child’s dying cries
Another life full of promise snuffed out
Another mother left wiping tears from dried out eyes.
No occasion for meting out street justice
Time to wait, give the law a chance
This time CCTV footage shows a pivotal moment
One that sealed and delivered a burning lance.
Praying that someone will give up the remaining culprits
Praying they’ll be properly punished when caught.
We’re left picking up the pieces on the outside
Hoping the case will make it all the way though court.
Though nothing done or said now
Can ever bring that child back from death
But it leaves us all skittish and wondering
Whose child will these streets touch next?
©14th July 2009- 14:12pm Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Wednesday, 10 June 2009
"HER LIPS"
I look at her plump rosy hued lips
Succulent lips I want desperately to kiss
Intimately seeking, searching bliss
I want to taste them
Feel the pertness of petal soft skin
Crying out to compress against another’s whim…
She parts them gently as she draws a surprised breath
I know her slightest touch could mean my untimely death
But still I imagine filling that tiny gap with my tongue
Tracing her teeth and its tips until I’m stung
By the feeling of warmth of her inner lips
Oh how those dreamy pillows I want to kiss
Then she licks them seductively
Unknowingly she is productively
Going to catch me off guard
Make something below quite hard
Make my pulse quicken
As I watch the wet glisten
Catching the light as it sparkles
Until it quickly fades away…
©13th April 2009 – 00:09am Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Succulent lips I want desperately to kiss
Intimately seeking, searching bliss
I want to taste them
Feel the pertness of petal soft skin
Crying out to compress against another’s whim…
She parts them gently as she draws a surprised breath
I know her slightest touch could mean my untimely death
But still I imagine filling that tiny gap with my tongue
Tracing her teeth and its tips until I’m stung
By the feeling of warmth of her inner lips
Oh how those dreamy pillows I want to kiss
Then she licks them seductively
Unknowingly she is productively
Going to catch me off guard
Make something below quite hard
Make my pulse quicken
As I watch the wet glisten
Catching the light as it sparkles
Until it quickly fades away…
©13th April 2009 – 00:09am Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
"I KNOW WHERE"
“I’m not doing well at school
But I know where my knife is
I don’t care where my workbooks are
But I know where to buy a gun
I don’t want to cook or wash dishes
But I know where to score a draw
I didn’t know I could take a life
Until at my feet someone lies dead on the floor.”
Mum sits at the dining table
Worried and wringing her hands and thinking
“What has happened to my child?”
This isn’t how I brought them up to be
The rudeness, the lack of care and disrespect
I can’t blame their father who’s not even here
If he was, it would make no difference I expect.
It’s midnight and my child is not even home yet
Today he wasn’t even at school
He no longer thinks homework is important
He no longer thinks education is something cool
Instead all he wants is to run on the streets
He wants to act like he’s mean with his mates
When I tell him to do something like clean
All he replies is ‘Yeah… whatever Ma… seen!’
I think, yes solutions can be suggested and plans probably implemented…
But really identifying the root cause of the problem isn’t so easy
Then the phone rings, stops was it the cops calling
To say my son’s dead?… I feel suddenly sick and queasy
I’m at my wits end I don’t know what to do
I’m sure there are other families out there
Who are experiencing the same problems too.
Then I hear keys in the door,
It’s quarter to two in the morning
In comes my son, I grab him... shake him...
Shouting “Where have you been?!!!”
He says “I’m okay... it’s not mine…”
And then I see he’s covered in blood… but whose blood?
He falls into my arms shell shocked, pale as a sheet,
His words they stumble, then out come his tears in a flood.
“Mum, we were outside a party, just standing around chilling
This car drove by… they shouted at us…
Shot at us… they missed
Some of us chased them down in another car…
We caught them when their ride stalled… Then came the fighting…
He’s dead Ma… my friend, my blud! Then the screaming…
I stabbed one of them… I think I killed him too…!”
Quietly he asked me, “Mum, am I dreaming?”
This is my waking nightmare
Every time I visit my son at Her Majesty’s Pleasure
When I come home and sit where I sat five years ago
I re-live it like it’s happening right now
The rollercoaster of emotions that rise up and down in me
The sense of guilt and helplessness I feel
Is beyond expression
I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through
What I’ve been through… go through
What my son has to go through behind bars
To share this is my message and my warning
To stop other teens walking my son’s path
Everyone should know guns and knives don’t kill people
But they need to acknowledge the fact
That their wielders do… other people…
Other children… do take lives
Over stupid insignificant spur of the moment crap
Like treading on territorial toes
Or acting on gossip that someone else
Told someone supposedly in the know.
But the thing that stays with me the most
Wrenching my soul and ripping my heart apart
Is having to leave him in that place until he’s as old as me
Hearing the clang as doors shut behind me
His eyes red, filled with tears and his voice echoing… broken…
“Mum, I’m so sorry, I should have listened….”
©28th January 2008 Written By Angela Edgar
www.cinnamonandsin.com All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
But I know where my knife is
I don’t care where my workbooks are
But I know where to buy a gun
I don’t want to cook or wash dishes
But I know where to score a draw
I didn’t know I could take a life
Until at my feet someone lies dead on the floor.”
Mum sits at the dining table
Worried and wringing her hands and thinking
“What has happened to my child?”
This isn’t how I brought them up to be
The rudeness, the lack of care and disrespect
I can’t blame their father who’s not even here
If he was, it would make no difference I expect.
It’s midnight and my child is not even home yet
Today he wasn’t even at school
He no longer thinks homework is important
He no longer thinks education is something cool
Instead all he wants is to run on the streets
He wants to act like he’s mean with his mates
When I tell him to do something like clean
All he replies is ‘Yeah… whatever Ma… seen!’
I think, yes solutions can be suggested and plans probably implemented…
But really identifying the root cause of the problem isn’t so easy
Then the phone rings, stops was it the cops calling
To say my son’s dead?… I feel suddenly sick and queasy
I’m at my wits end I don’t know what to do
I’m sure there are other families out there
Who are experiencing the same problems too.
Then I hear keys in the door,
It’s quarter to two in the morning
In comes my son, I grab him... shake him...
Shouting “Where have you been?!!!”
He says “I’m okay... it’s not mine…”
And then I see he’s covered in blood… but whose blood?
He falls into my arms shell shocked, pale as a sheet,
His words they stumble, then out come his tears in a flood.
“Mum, we were outside a party, just standing around chilling
This car drove by… they shouted at us…
Shot at us… they missed
Some of us chased them down in another car…
We caught them when their ride stalled… Then came the fighting…
He’s dead Ma… my friend, my blud! Then the screaming…
I stabbed one of them… I think I killed him too…!”
Quietly he asked me, “Mum, am I dreaming?”
This is my waking nightmare
Every time I visit my son at Her Majesty’s Pleasure
When I come home and sit where I sat five years ago
I re-live it like it’s happening right now
The rollercoaster of emotions that rise up and down in me
The sense of guilt and helplessness I feel
Is beyond expression
I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through
What I’ve been through… go through
What my son has to go through behind bars
To share this is my message and my warning
To stop other teens walking my son’s path
Everyone should know guns and knives don’t kill people
But they need to acknowledge the fact
That their wielders do… other people…
Other children… do take lives
Over stupid insignificant spur of the moment crap
Like treading on territorial toes
Or acting on gossip that someone else
Told someone supposedly in the know.
But the thing that stays with me the most
Wrenching my soul and ripping my heart apart
Is having to leave him in that place until he’s as old as me
Hearing the clang as doors shut behind me
His eyes red, filled with tears and his voice echoing… broken…
“Mum, I’m so sorry, I should have listened….”
©28th January 2008 Written By Angela Edgar
www.cinnamonandsin.com All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Monday, 18 May 2009
“ALL ABOUT THE GIRL”
It was all about the girl you see
I wanted her so badly, so he had to go free.
But not free in the sense
As you understand in having your liberty
But for me it was knowing
He wasn’t around to trouble her
And I could do as I pleased.
As far as I was concerned she would always be my girl
I didn’t care what he told me, so in my mind the plot began to unfurl...
Would I catch him in the day? When he was completely unaware?
I was gonna get him, that’s for sure to God I swear.
The thoughts they tormented me every single day
Imaging him kissing her and having his wicked way.
It messed up my head, every time I thought of him
I walked around daily, my face dark and my heart grim.
It was always there in the bottom of my shoe
Just waiting for the opportunity that would present
But this would be one act, on which I’d claim I always had intent.
I knew what I was doing, no matter what would be later said
I knew how it would end up,.. I just knew I would leave him dead.
The time it came to pass not so long after,
It was the end of summer weekend night
Leaving a party he was so full of life and laughter
He wanted to walk away but I knew the time was right.
The only excuse I needed in my mind and now
Was to cause him to strike the first blow… but how?
So I goaded him with verbal temptation, the anticipation of a fight
He was the big man on campus,
Yeah I wanted him to come to me to test his might.
When the fist came, you can say the rest was history
Out came the knife from my shoe quick as a flash
The street ran redder with each single slicing gash
After those eight came the finishing blows
I won’t ever forget how thick blood flows
Because it was all about the girl you see
Her tiny cute button nose
Her pretty brown eyes
Her long silky locks
The way she laughed til she cried
The way she smiled at my unfunny jokes
The way she ran with a graceful lope
The way she walked with a sexy swagger
The way she touched me leaving me so hot I could only stagger.
It was all about her…
It was all about her not being with him…
It was all about him being out of the picture…
It was all so I could be her man again…
©18th May 2009-13:22pm Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
I wanted her so badly, so he had to go free.
But not free in the sense
As you understand in having your liberty
But for me it was knowing
He wasn’t around to trouble her
And I could do as I pleased.
As far as I was concerned she would always be my girl
I didn’t care what he told me, so in my mind the plot began to unfurl...
Would I catch him in the day? When he was completely unaware?
I was gonna get him, that’s for sure to God I swear.
The thoughts they tormented me every single day
Imaging him kissing her and having his wicked way.
It messed up my head, every time I thought of him
I walked around daily, my face dark and my heart grim.
It was always there in the bottom of my shoe
Just waiting for the opportunity that would present
But this would be one act, on which I’d claim I always had intent.
I knew what I was doing, no matter what would be later said
I knew how it would end up,.. I just knew I would leave him dead.
The time it came to pass not so long after,
It was the end of summer weekend night
Leaving a party he was so full of life and laughter
He wanted to walk away but I knew the time was right.
The only excuse I needed in my mind and now
Was to cause him to strike the first blow… but how?
So I goaded him with verbal temptation, the anticipation of a fight
He was the big man on campus,
Yeah I wanted him to come to me to test his might.
When the fist came, you can say the rest was history
Out came the knife from my shoe quick as a flash
The street ran redder with each single slicing gash
After those eight came the finishing blows
I won’t ever forget how thick blood flows
Because it was all about the girl you see
Her tiny cute button nose
Her pretty brown eyes
Her long silky locks
The way she laughed til she cried
The way she smiled at my unfunny jokes
The way she ran with a graceful lope
The way she walked with a sexy swagger
The way she touched me leaving me so hot I could only stagger.
It was all about her…
It was all about her not being with him…
It was all about him being out of the picture…
It was all so I could be her man again…
©18th May 2009-13:22pm Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.ANGEE.CO.UK All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
“WHO WOULD EVER LOVE ME?”
Who would ever love me?
I think as I look at the door
Waiting for the post to drop
Wondering what wings its way towards my letter box
On this fourteenth day of the second month.
Apprehension fills me with dread
Of all the past encounters I’ve had
Spinning my heart in circles and rocking my head
The emotions over-run and under-turn me
Forging my memories into anti-memories
So I no longer know truth from reality.
I think back to the handsome man on the bus
Knowing he walks behind me at the end of the day
Passing me by as I entered my flat alone
So he knew where I lived
He smiled at me each morning everyday
As he sat in the seat opposite me
Then I think oh it was just courtesy,
That he didn’t really mean it
That he was just trying to be polite
But oh how his sparkly twinkle always caught my eye
Unaware he made my day start off that much better.
I imagine the joy I’d feel seeing a strange envelope
In amongst my usual mail
Apprehensively opening it up
My heart would soar with joy
Knowing someone had taken the time to think of me
The effort to choose the right sentiment
The lick or stick of stamp to card
The walk to the post office or post box
To send it lovingly my way…
Who would ever love my smile?
My sparkle?
My twinkle?
My curvy hips?
My saggy rump?
My not so pert chest as age and gravity catches up?
Who would want to listen to my laugh?
My sense of humour?
My wisdom?
My words of comfort and advice?
My moany, croaky voice when I first wake up?
Who would ever hunger for my companionship?
Crave my touch?
My smell?
My warmth?
My intimacy?
Who would ever love me now you’re gone?
© 12th April 2009 – 23:56pm Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.CINNAMONANDSIN.COM All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
I think as I look at the door
Waiting for the post to drop
Wondering what wings its way towards my letter box
On this fourteenth day of the second month.
Apprehension fills me with dread
Of all the past encounters I’ve had
Spinning my heart in circles and rocking my head
The emotions over-run and under-turn me
Forging my memories into anti-memories
So I no longer know truth from reality.
I think back to the handsome man on the bus
Knowing he walks behind me at the end of the day
Passing me by as I entered my flat alone
So he knew where I lived
He smiled at me each morning everyday
As he sat in the seat opposite me
Then I think oh it was just courtesy,
That he didn’t really mean it
That he was just trying to be polite
But oh how his sparkly twinkle always caught my eye
Unaware he made my day start off that much better.
I imagine the joy I’d feel seeing a strange envelope
In amongst my usual mail
Apprehensively opening it up
My heart would soar with joy
Knowing someone had taken the time to think of me
The effort to choose the right sentiment
The lick or stick of stamp to card
The walk to the post office or post box
To send it lovingly my way…
Who would ever love my smile?
My sparkle?
My twinkle?
My curvy hips?
My saggy rump?
My not so pert chest as age and gravity catches up?
Who would want to listen to my laugh?
My sense of humour?
My wisdom?
My words of comfort and advice?
My moany, croaky voice when I first wake up?
Who would ever hunger for my companionship?
Crave my touch?
My smell?
My warmth?
My intimacy?
Who would ever love me now you’re gone?
© 12th April 2009 – 23:56pm Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.CINNAMONANDSIN.COM All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
“I NEVER DREAMED IT WAS YOU”
When I saw your face in the crowd
I looked back in a double take
I stopped in surprise
I didn’t think it’d be you…
I never dreamed it was you…
Could be you…
Would ever be you… again…
I didn’t want to believe my eyes
It had been so long
I thought you were dead
My heart came into my mouth
My soul filled with dread
A flood of emotions returned instantly
Took me back the time we last met
I recalled our passionality…
‘Ha!’, the cynical me cried
When you left it was like I’d died
And gone to hell and back
And never moved on
From the emptiness your loss left behind
What if…
This was only a dream?
Was it really you?
Could you be real?
As you walked closer to me
Others moved out of the way
They could see something was happening
That there would be magic this day
I hesitated stretching out my arms
Wondering whether or not to embrace you
Thinking maybe you were a mirage
But if you…
(No…)
Then if you…
(No!)
Might not respond as I intended to…
But you did the same as I
You were like my reflection
Doing as I…
‘Doo Wah Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Doo…’
Forgive my momentary lapse of disbelief
Deep down I knew it was you
Though my rational mind didn’t want to believe it was true
The way you looked at me
The longing…
The longing I felt emanating
Like a tsunami from you
An unstoppable force
You didn’t want to give into…
The curiosity…
Was I real?
We were here
I could touch you
You could feel me right there
You in front of me
I held your face
Touched your hair
Held you close,
I kissed your nose
I kissed your lips
Over my heart I put your fingertips…
I felt our heartbeats sync in time…
And I melted in your embrace
For forever I knew you were mine
What I didn’t know
Was how much I’d denied I’d missed you…
Until the moment I stared deep into your eyes
I saw my soul reflected in yours reflected in mine
Dancing in light
Singing in harmony
Connecting, intertwining again…
Like an unbreakable elastic band stretched out
Further than the eye could see
That tethered us together for eternity
An infinite circle that eventually brought us back together
Swallowing air, I tried not to cry
Instead I thanked God Almighty
I didn’t want to ask him why
Or how you came to be
Here… now… because…
This reunion made everything else that hurt for so long
Bearable… forgettable…
The not knowing what happened to you
In the years that passed in war
A famine and hunger for you
That raged inside me
Until I though I was going starving mad…
It all suddenly… it suddenly all… disappeared
And I didn’t care for that pain any more
For it was to be replaced with such a joy
Making us complete once more
With the missing pieces of us reuniting
When you breathed back you into me with one kiss.
©12th April 2009 - 23:39pm Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.CINNAMONANDSIN.COM All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
I looked back in a double take
I stopped in surprise
I didn’t think it’d be you…
I never dreamed it was you…
Could be you…
Would ever be you… again…
I didn’t want to believe my eyes
It had been so long
I thought you were dead
My heart came into my mouth
My soul filled with dread
A flood of emotions returned instantly
Took me back the time we last met
I recalled our passionality…
‘Ha!’, the cynical me cried
When you left it was like I’d died
And gone to hell and back
And never moved on
From the emptiness your loss left behind
What if…
This was only a dream?
Was it really you?
Could you be real?
As you walked closer to me
Others moved out of the way
They could see something was happening
That there would be magic this day
I hesitated stretching out my arms
Wondering whether or not to embrace you
Thinking maybe you were a mirage
But if you…
(No…)
Then if you…
(No!)
Might not respond as I intended to…
But you did the same as I
You were like my reflection
Doing as I…
‘Doo Wah Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Doo…’
Forgive my momentary lapse of disbelief
Deep down I knew it was you
Though my rational mind didn’t want to believe it was true
The way you looked at me
The longing…
The longing I felt emanating
Like a tsunami from you
An unstoppable force
You didn’t want to give into…
The curiosity…
Was I real?
We were here
I could touch you
You could feel me right there
You in front of me
I held your face
Touched your hair
Held you close,
I kissed your nose
I kissed your lips
Over my heart I put your fingertips…
I felt our heartbeats sync in time…
And I melted in your embrace
For forever I knew you were mine
What I didn’t know
Was how much I’d denied I’d missed you…
Until the moment I stared deep into your eyes
I saw my soul reflected in yours reflected in mine
Dancing in light
Singing in harmony
Connecting, intertwining again…
Like an unbreakable elastic band stretched out
Further than the eye could see
That tethered us together for eternity
An infinite circle that eventually brought us back together
Swallowing air, I tried not to cry
Instead I thanked God Almighty
I didn’t want to ask him why
Or how you came to be
Here… now… because…
This reunion made everything else that hurt for so long
Bearable… forgettable…
The not knowing what happened to you
In the years that passed in war
A famine and hunger for you
That raged inside me
Until I though I was going starving mad…
It all suddenly… it suddenly all… disappeared
And I didn’t care for that pain any more
For it was to be replaced with such a joy
Making us complete once more
With the missing pieces of us reuniting
When you breathed back you into me with one kiss.
©12th April 2009 - 23:39pm Written by Angela Edgar
WWW.CINNAMONANDSIN.COM All Rights Reserved.
Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
"CHOCOLATE STATUE"
Hhhhmmm… Chocolate Statue… let me taste your shade – white, milk or plain
Feel my caress as I wonder where to take the first bite
Will you melt in my mouth like Galaxy or Kit-Kat?
Let me wonder about your make up - your ingredients
What makes your flavour what it is?
Hhhhmmm… Chocolate Statue… should I just admire your stance?
Your position, your coolness?
View you in your original glory?
Before I influence your existence forever…
With a taste from my lips?
Hhhhmmm… Chocolate Statue… what form will you take after my first bite?
Will you still have your crisp shell with a mysterious centre?
That I don’t know if it’s hard or soft?
Just waiting for me to break open and explore…
Will there still be something left or will you be all gone?
Hhhhmmm… Chocolate Statue… I think I need to leave you alone
You’d go straight to my lips, my hips, my breasts
I think I’d enjoy you too much for it to be a good thing
Sometimes the best things aren’t always good for you
You can’t deny the satisfaction as you indulge...
But I am a woman who loves to indulge… her chocolate fantasy…
©2nd July 2006 Written By Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Please visit www.angee.co.uk to listen to the DVJ audio track of this poem. Sexy, seductive vocals will leave you begging to hear more...
Feel my caress as I wonder where to take the first bite
Will you melt in my mouth like Galaxy or Kit-Kat?
Let me wonder about your make up - your ingredients
What makes your flavour what it is?
Hhhhmmm… Chocolate Statue… should I just admire your stance?
Your position, your coolness?
View you in your original glory?
Before I influence your existence forever…
With a taste from my lips?
Hhhhmmm… Chocolate Statue… what form will you take after my first bite?
Will you still have your crisp shell with a mysterious centre?
That I don’t know if it’s hard or soft?
Just waiting for me to break open and explore…
Will there still be something left or will you be all gone?
Hhhhmmm… Chocolate Statue… I think I need to leave you alone
You’d go straight to my lips, my hips, my breasts
I think I’d enjoy you too much for it to be a good thing
Sometimes the best things aren’t always good for you
You can’t deny the satisfaction as you indulge...
But I am a woman who loves to indulge… her chocolate fantasy…
©2nd July 2006 Written By Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Please visit www.angee.co.uk to listen to the DVJ audio track of this poem. Sexy, seductive vocals will leave you begging to hear more...
"T.R.O.M.P.”
(The Repertoire Of My Panties)
You wanna pull ‘em down don’t you?
But you got to listen to them first
You’ll never know my desires
Until you unleash T.R.O.M.P.
The repertoire of my panties
They sing to you…
Let me wine down your body
Make you hot and hard
Like a rock diamond
Stiff enough for my cat
Rich enough for my taste
The more you grind me
The wetter I get
Sexy, lacy fabric drips with my essence
But really who’s the girl?
You poke, you prick tease
I can satisfy you with such ease
My lips on your…
I hum and I strum…
Oh yes satisfaction guaranteed
I aim to please…
Please you perhaps
Please me oh definitely
I dress to sex ultimately
Frilly French knickers or
Sexy Basques with pearl beads
That titillate and tantalise my bits
Dressed in a suit or sweats
Who knows but me
What’s underneath
Unless you have the pleasure
And my permission to unveil
Spider web backed thongs
With diamonds and bows
Hi-leg, mid-cut, hipster style freaks
When you’ve had about enough as you can bear
And just can’t take it no more
When you’re about to burst
Ready to pop a lil' cream
I’ll give you the whisper you’ve been dying for…
The sound of silk or satin sliding down my thighs…
©5th September 2006 – 19:07pm Written By Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited
You wanna pull ‘em down don’t you?
But you got to listen to them first
You’ll never know my desires
Until you unleash T.R.O.M.P.
The repertoire of my panties
They sing to you…
Let me wine down your body
Make you hot and hard
Like a rock diamond
Stiff enough for my cat
Rich enough for my taste
The more you grind me
The wetter I get
Sexy, lacy fabric drips with my essence
But really who’s the girl?
You poke, you prick tease
I can satisfy you with such ease
My lips on your…
I hum and I strum…
Oh yes satisfaction guaranteed
I aim to please…
Please you perhaps
Please me oh definitely
I dress to sex ultimately
Frilly French knickers or
Sexy Basques with pearl beads
That titillate and tantalise my bits
Dressed in a suit or sweats
Who knows but me
What’s underneath
Unless you have the pleasure
And my permission to unveil
Spider web backed thongs
With diamonds and bows
Hi-leg, mid-cut, hipster style freaks
When you’ve had about enough as you can bear
And just can’t take it no more
When you’re about to burst
Ready to pop a lil' cream
I’ll give you the whisper you’ve been dying for…
The sound of silk or satin sliding down my thighs…
©5th September 2006 – 19:07pm Written By Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited
Monday, 20 April 2009
“VISITATION”
Hoping to see your loved one
Longingly you watch that door
Hoping they’ve brought you something special
To keep the prison dogs from beating you to the floor
What would you do the moment you saw them?
You’ve built up dreams… expectations
Likely you’d grab them tightly
After some initial split second hesitation.
What would you do when you saw them?
Likely sweep them off their feet
Expressing all your feelings of anticipation
Of that very first lock-up meet.
The doors open admitting a stream of unfamiliar faces
But it’s not your kin
It’s not your sweetheart or mother
Who comes waltzing in.
As you sit and wait
Thinking of all the things you want to say
You hope that their feelings for you
In their own personal suffering, haven’t faded away
Perhaps by admission it was your fault
What ever you did to end up in here
Don’t say you weren’t properly represented
And the courts were not just or fair.
But the moment you’ll see your family
When inside these walls you tried to be strong
But when you see them you crumble
All your words coming out wrong.
You’ll hug them close,
You’ll hold them tight
You’ll regret the act that put you here
You’ll tell them you wish you could put it right.
You wait patiently by yourself
You sit at that table all alone
Wondering if you should have paid the price
To get that illegal mobile phone.
You wouldn’t be here sitting agitatedly
Wondering what the hell’s taking them so long?
Seconds turn to minutes, other visitors pack up to leave
Remaining unvisited prisoners, left with their own silent parting grief.
A sinking feeling grabs hold inside you
When you hear all the prison wardens yell
“Time’s up! You’ve no visitors this month
Time to go back to your one room cell.”
© 21st July 2008 – 22:54pm Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
Longingly you watch that door
Hoping they’ve brought you something special
To keep the prison dogs from beating you to the floor
What would you do the moment you saw them?
You’ve built up dreams… expectations
Likely you’d grab them tightly
After some initial split second hesitation.
What would you do when you saw them?
Likely sweep them off their feet
Expressing all your feelings of anticipation
Of that very first lock-up meet.
The doors open admitting a stream of unfamiliar faces
But it’s not your kin
It’s not your sweetheart or mother
Who comes waltzing in.
As you sit and wait
Thinking of all the things you want to say
You hope that their feelings for you
In their own personal suffering, haven’t faded away
Perhaps by admission it was your fault
What ever you did to end up in here
Don’t say you weren’t properly represented
And the courts were not just or fair.
But the moment you’ll see your family
When inside these walls you tried to be strong
But when you see them you crumble
All your words coming out wrong.
You’ll hug them close,
You’ll hold them tight
You’ll regret the act that put you here
You’ll tell them you wish you could put it right.
You wait patiently by yourself
You sit at that table all alone
Wondering if you should have paid the price
To get that illegal mobile phone.
You wouldn’t be here sitting agitatedly
Wondering what the hell’s taking them so long?
Seconds turn to minutes, other visitors pack up to leave
Remaining unvisited prisoners, left with their own silent parting grief.
A sinking feeling grabs hold inside you
When you hear all the prison wardens yell
“Time’s up! You’ve no visitors this month
Time to go back to your one room cell.”
© 21st July 2008 – 22:54pm Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
“WAY OF LIFE”
It’s a way of life
That’s become so ordinary
Lifestyle, protection and peer pressure
Lead you to carry a knife
Some believe we can change
It’s attitude that can be rearranged or broken
It’s time to break the heavy silence
You have views which should now be spoken
It’s a way of life
A threat of putting holes in you
“Stop looking or I’ll stab you twice!
If I jook you a couple more times
I’m gonna enjoy taking your life.”
It’s a way of life
That shouldn’t have come to this
Police statistics sometimes hide the truth
That not all reports of injustice
Get through to their call centre booths
Some people handle it themselves
Others just dismiss it away
But until we do something about it
With us always this fear of doing nothing will stay.
©29th May 2008 Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited
That’s become so ordinary
Lifestyle, protection and peer pressure
Lead you to carry a knife
Some believe we can change
It’s attitude that can be rearranged or broken
It’s time to break the heavy silence
You have views which should now be spoken
It’s a way of life
A threat of putting holes in you
“Stop looking or I’ll stab you twice!
If I jook you a couple more times
I’m gonna enjoy taking your life.”
It’s a way of life
That shouldn’t have come to this
Police statistics sometimes hide the truth
That not all reports of injustice
Get through to their call centre booths
Some people handle it themselves
Others just dismiss it away
But until we do something about it
With us always this fear of doing nothing will stay.
©29th May 2008 Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited
“VIOLENCE & MAYHEM”
Violence and mayhem, all around
You can’t sleep at night
Your fear grows in leaps and bounds
It comes to you in the most innocent of packages
You think it’s the boys you should fear?
Think again because it’s now the girls you hold dear.
Binge drinking and smoking, underage sex
What have we come to?
Our girl child’s lives are in a mess!
STD’s, lock up, pregnancy and giving birth in a cell
No further education of minors, nothing more seem well.
The gang culture has our girls desperate to be like a boy
Robbing and stealing for the higher end kind of toys
But stay on this path and a loser’s journey you will live
Holloway Prison awaits to receive you with your one life to give.
©6th July 2008 – 00.26am Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
You can’t sleep at night
Your fear grows in leaps and bounds
It comes to you in the most innocent of packages
You think it’s the boys you should fear?
Think again because it’s now the girls you hold dear.
Binge drinking and smoking, underage sex
What have we come to?
Our girl child’s lives are in a mess!
STD’s, lock up, pregnancy and giving birth in a cell
No further education of minors, nothing more seem well.
The gang culture has our girls desperate to be like a boy
Robbing and stealing for the higher end kind of toys
But stay on this path and a loser’s journey you will live
Holloway Prison awaits to receive you with your one life to give.
©6th July 2008 – 00.26am Written by Angela Edgar
All Rights Reserved. Unauthorised Reproduction Prohibited.
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