Doc Martens

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I remove these boots, my long-trod armour, made in a tool-racked leather workshop; Goodyear welted, as craftsmen expect; always double knotted, like a tightly roped lover, that fuck-snug-fit, laced, too knowing, too close, until the rub is too much for me, then separated.   Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick...


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A Wall

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Each imperial brick length required malodorous acid to be dippled, slow-brushed (avoiding the old lime mortar), applied to each unpainted face, covering the exposed wall: “Up, tight as possible,” she said. “Right to the [recently plastered and whitewashed] ceiling.” My red canvas was four yards wide (an old measure, antique, in keeping with the building’s...


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Miracles

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Upstairs, steam-dripped by every breath, becoming condensation it sticks, a vertical film on the inside of the windows of the fan-packed top deck, aboard the lane-swaying Number 29 to Brighton: I sit, as usual, with too much of the bus-shift-and-tip; meaning that my forever poorly-travelled nausea threatens, from somewhere, to become a public thing, to...


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Voyager Maintenant

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Vous, petite douce chose, doit voyager, doit visiter, pour une journée, une dernière fois: Une dernière requête traduit comme décès: Pas plus de nourriture, pas plus de boissons, maintenant le temps s’est écoulé: Ces luxes égoïstes, une telle prière, cette demande: À tout moment de la vie, il est temps de vivre. Mike Bell Poetry...


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#CartepostaleàBannon

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Cher Steve Bannon, Comment redémarrer le mal? Vous l’avez trop facile mon altesse-droite, vous avez votre chemin, avec la haine, votre haine, votre politique de quatre lettres: Tenez leurs têtes courbées, prendre leurs cœurs sombres, et ensuite nourrir, si longtemps, sur leurs intestins bouillonnés, assaisonné de toss-politique, raisonnement c’est tout pour eux. Là, mon cruel...


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#postcardstoBannon

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

Dear Steve Bannon, How to re-heat evil? You have it too easy my Alt-right friend, you have your way, with hate, your hate, your four-letter policy: Hold their bowed heads, bake their dark hearts, and then drizzle piss on their bile-boiled guts, seasoned with toss-politics, reasoning it is all for them. There, my cruel friend,...


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Measured

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

I was taught to spot the imperfect years by measuring, with eye and finger the varied distances, the thicknesses of those concentric, almost-whirled, bark-marked lines in the bared-ankles of cut trunks: Dendrochronology. Counting back, to before I was born, my smooth fingers touched the years, and Dad recalled a distant summer without enough rain (‘see...


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Rise

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

She is slow – the River Ouse – running muddied below Lewes – there a capricious millpond – but when she swells under storms – off streams Bevern and Northend and the quick River Uck – she reverts to ancient freshet – swift to rise to redress the forgotten flood meadows now supplanted by tarmac...


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Aside

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

It exists today, another foul descent,
where thousands of sickening acts are set:
Saydnaya - Assad's concrete playhouse,
a lowly spectacle, directed from Damascus,
those dark rehearsal rooms set for Death...


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Landings

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

They swayed on the deck under throat-music chants, heel-spun, with babies, holding hope in their hands: Welcome to Europe, across uneasy borders, where choices are streamed, and the future’s disordered.   Mike Bell Poetry Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap. By...


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