Filth by H.Y Nept (readict txt) 📕

The 13th Line

I see your body, splayed out, sprawled across the track
Like stains of the metropolis upon the countryside so black.
A thousand woes, sat fat and comfortable upon your back
Pain, damp clothes and stress, the only things you didn’t lack.

I see the scars that the train and life have left behind
If your heart spilled out onto the rail what would we find?
The love, life and thoughts of a once great mind
But you lie here, death the last bill you signed.

I blame us, the rich who walked by your sallow eyes
Ignored those shrivelled hands, those last silent cries
Despised you as I despise, the shallow leaders who tell lies
They play with lives; gambling mine and his. He dies.

See now how the crowd gathers round to stare,
Crowds gathered round to watch freaks at the fair
Humans are worse than beasts. “Yes, I as a human dare”
To enter back and forth through the Devil’s lair.

The devil is in us, if God exists and resembles man in looks
Tis not he who’d spill blood and write the hateful books.
Which everyday worse than drugs and their deadly hooks
Leave half dead men hiding their heads in dirty nooks.

Here you lie, body crushed beneath the wheels
I hear the engine, the screams and now the squeals
Of breaks. In those last moments what did you feel?
In those last instants, you and I we made a deal.

You’d jump? “Yes, right into the coming beast which rushed”
I’d tell your story, honour you, tell how you were crushed.
Now they lie, saying “He fell” the whole affair is being hushed.
Those liars, mock your memory, to protect the girls who blushed,

To see some handsome star, kiss a girl; cameras flashed,
Meanwhile as in drunken, sleepless nights you thrashed.
The world goes on, fashion smiles coyly, greedy, unabashed
Ignoring the fact that here a life, a heart was smashed.

Not by the train, but under society’s suffocating weight
No passion, no love, impervious. No feelings, not even hate.
But the blind eye, we ignore others. No dignity, scrape the plate
Eat the little scraps that life gives us, and with that we sate

The appetite for love and feeling which you feel for your first love
With the person, whom in your hungry eyes is a gift from above
The world again, renewed, reborn. Springs run. The water suave
A world of peace, of joy, embodied by that pure and lovely dove.

Yet to me the world seems tainted, as though under a curse,
Such shallow dreams and empty death, even the coming of life: birth
Causes no more joy, as it would have around the heat of hearth
No more pain hence no more delight, life’s too easy on this earth.

I smell, I see it written upon a thousand faces,
The same stench that stains a thousand places,
The same crime of a thousand unsolved cases,
It thrives now in all of our corrupted races.

The leaders, once mighty men who led their men to battle,
Now soft, weak and cruel, right wing. Shamed men who prattle;
Trampling the graves of “young men who died as cattle”.
Do you hear the train coming? Hear the tracks rattle?

In the light of lamps, your forehead is damp, your body shakes
Who were you? A whisper shatters and the question breaks
Upon my trembling lips and inside my whole soul quakes;
Your body emptying, drops those small red snowflakes.

I see your body, splayed out, sprawled across the track
Like stains of the metropolis upon the countryside so black.
A thousand woes, sat fat and comfortable upon your back
Pain, damp clothes and stress, the only things you didn’t lack.

Bonnie Lass

See the innocence etched upon her face,

Her breasts wrapped tight in bodice lace.

A gift wrapped up and packed, her charm

Leads her now to shameful life and harm

“Sweet girl, tis not a sin to sleep with him;

This man’s a prince! He wants you on a whim.”

Will drop you when needs be. I see you on the street

Below the tears; that must be joy, pride and conceit.

“Oh darling, are you not the luckiest girl

Alive? To be his toy, out of the whole world,

He chose you! Feel flattered darling, do”

He left her with a photo and a baby too.

She begs in the cold, blue hands cupped for coins.

The Vast Supper

Little children, wide eyed, stare; gaze glossy in the heat.

Look how the table creaks, weighted by the heavy load

Here crawl babies in the dirt, starving, bloated upon the road.

See how easily the water flows, both hot and cold

Here they die of thirst, the same tale has been told

A million times and yet, we leave the tap running, we forget

Stare horrified at the gaunt faces, strangers we’ve never met

Little children, wide eyed, running to school, 2 miles, bare feet.

Suffragette

You stand proud, fierce face forced into a scowl, in disdain your lip is curled.

Lady of the votes, of unheard voices. Deep footprints you left upon the world.

We listen in awe to hear tales of your Amazonian courage, Valkyrie’s strength

Yet sitting upon the soft grass of earth I sit and wonder what it all meant.

The dew soaks through my trousers and I could almost forget

The sacrifices of my sweet hearted suffragette. She’d have wept

To see the girls in skimpy skirts, who walk and talk with no respect

Ignoring the deep truth that hurts, tearing up their debt

To the beautiful suffragette.

Silver Spoon

Here sits a new-born babe all wrapped in rags,
Lying amongst beer bottles and burnt out fags.
As a child he’ll dream, but no fear, he’ll quickly learn
That he’s no-one, the wheel of fortune does not turn
In the favour of a bastard born so poor,
He’s got no dad, just ‘uncles’, his mum’s a whore.

Time ticks by, his dreams have gone, hopes forlorn
Slowly each day another doorknob is torn
From his sweaty, desperate grasp; he’s trapped
Chained by society, his will is slowly sapped.
With no place to vent frustration it builds up
Now anger, overflows from his brimming cup.
He tries to write, downstairs his mum’s asleep
Knocked out on valium and LSD. He sits and weeps.

He hardens to the harsh world. He turns bitter,
Walking the lonely roads, filled with scum and litter.
The man sits in an alley, gun in hand, drowning in silence
In desperation, the new-born babe has turned to violence.
A heavy metal door clangs shut, resonating in his ears
All his dreams, his hopes replaced now by all his fears
Now in the dark, shadowed cell, cruel mockery of hell
His slow swinging is unseen, but look! The shadows tell.
Little angels; the same story, the new-born babe who fell…

Imprint

Text: Typhen Brouillet-Lee
Publication Date: 08-05-2012

All Rights Reserved