POETRY BOOKS AVAILABLE BY ATTILA THE STOCKBROKER

Neveradnothin at aol.com Neveradnothin at aol.com
Mon Sep 30 13:36:40 MDT 2002


GIVE US A SHOUT IF YOU WANT ONE






SCORNFLAKES [APPROX 30 POEMS]   £7 PLUS P/P


THE RAT TAILED MAGGOT [APPROX 35 POEMS]  £7 PLUS P/P


GOLDSTONE GHOSTS IS AVAILABLE[APPROX 30 POEMS IN A BOOK] £3 PLUS P/P








TAKEN FROM GOLDSTONE GHOSTS:-


A HULL IN MY HEAR[FOR FATBOY SLIM,HULL MARCH 10,2001]



Adelphi mid-eighties.A wonderful place
The Gargoyles,Pink Noise,and Jacko's friendly face.
This poet,twice yearly,a touring Seagull.
And you,The Housemartins."Fourth best band in Hull....."


So who was best?,well you never let on.
[i liked death by milkfloat,now sadly long gone]
But you upped and made it,and we knew the score:
It was there on the cover.London 0, Hull 4.


Then heato went south with his tongue in his cheek
[though he;s seen at the Mainbrace a few times a week]
And you and DH from the punk days in Kent
Now sponsor the Albion.Thanks money well spent.


Yes, we're going places - with SKINT on our kit
This is our club culture and were proud of it!
Respect from someone who was there at the start.
Adelphi,De Grey Street.A Hull in my heart.


     





ARCHER'S SHAME 

They say that he's greedy, corrupt, and a liar -
and they wouldn't pass water on him if afire.
They've disowned him, they hate him, and he is to blame
And everywhere headlines scream out 'Archer's Shame!'
So strangely familiar, this rage and this fuss.
Such memories for each and every one of us
And so right and so fitting that Jeffrey should pay.
But I still can't help thinking, as he's banged away,
though an Archer in prison is justice well done,
that, as foul as he is, they've locked up the wrong one.




TAKEN FROM SCORNFLAKES:-







The Bible according to Rupert Murdoch

> In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was Gotcha! And
the Lord Rupert said let there be a Royal Family, and let enormous
quantities of trivia and drivel be written about them, yea even unto
the point where a mentally subnormal yak couldn't possibly find it
interesting any more, and let babies be born unto this Royal Family,
and let the huge swathes of nauseating sludge written about them
surpass even that written about their parents, even though these
babies and their parents are about as interesting as a wet afternoon
on the terraces at Selhurst Park.
And the Lord Rupert said let there be soap operas, and let each
of these soap operas be so mind-numbingly moronic as to make a
wet afternoon at Selhurst Park seem a truly uplifting experience,
and let entire forests and the ecological balance of several continents
be destroyed in the endless vistas of retarded outpourings about
these unspeakable transmissions.
And let there be enormous breasts, and endless bonking, and
hours and days and weeks and months and years of chauvinistic
right-wing propaganda so that the brain-dead prats who like the
bonking and the soap operas and the breasts and the royal stories
get the politics as well.
And let any journalist who tries to stand up to the proprietor and
editor in the name of truth, and intelligence, and integrity, and
journalistic standards, be summarily dismissed, and cast forever
into a bottomless pit of decomposing chimpanzee smegma, and let
those journalists who suffer this fate rejoice at the great career move
they have just made.
And the Lord Rupert looked at his work, and even he saw that
it was a load of crap, but this was the enterprise culture and it sold
millions so it was good. And on the same basis he decided to take
over the television too, and the earth itself wept, and little robins
vomited, and cuddly furry animals threw themselves under trains,
and the whole thing was filmed by Sky Channel for a horror nature
programme, and the most awful thing of all was that this was just
the beginning...












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