(c) Steven Pottle 2007

Thursday, 6 September 2007

"The Meaning Of Life"

The batteries were low when the speed was needed

Just when a life ran towards the unknown with no brakes
My well thought out kind words and stretched out arms were always
going to be too late…
I still haven't an answer or an explanation as to why this happened
But the early mornings won't let me forget it in a hurry.

With every turned corner that throws forward a new street
With a sudden smile that could be hiding a good friend
Remember to smile back and speak to those strangers
You never know what you're going to get…
And isn't that the best,
Isn't that what life is all about?

My attention was grabbed and hidden in something stupid
I didn't see you upset or giving us the look of 'help me'
Now my late concerns and frantic searching have only left me broken
and confused…
I wish you could tell me what to say- then I would say it now
I wish you could tell me what to do- then I would do it straight away.

Those kind of stars don't get the chance to shine very often
So try to catch them whenever they are shooting by
Empty your pockets of money and numbers to keep the real special things safe
You never know what will happen on a night like this…
It's good to be unprepared and surprised,
So that you can say that you are really living your life.

(c) Steven Pottle 2007

Wednesday, 29 August 2007


Face to face in a Spanish bed
You breathe out just as I breathe in
A part of you is always in my oxygen.

© 2007 Steven Pottle

"When Did You Stop Dancing?"

The busy daytime crash drives into your free night and intrudes yet again
A job lot of heavy printed fingers strangle your relaxed tie and shapes it into a noose
The tightening of taxis, computers and people begin to form throat baddies in all of your dreams
When was it that you became this adult and stopped living another life?
Are you now someone that you do not recognize?
So who can you be now?

We used to laugh off the awaiting nightmares long before they could be a problem
We used to sing at the top of bad singing voices just to scare away all of bubbling trouble
And the records would be played and a twirled shuffle came into place to refuse the knives and lies
Nothing stood in the way of our own time to get away
So tell me when did you stop dancing?

Through the door comes the rumble of an all important deadline that tears into a tired mind that only wants escape
The breaks and the dinnertimes spent daydreaming of even a couple of hours at home
They are ripped to a hundred pieces when all you can think is: when exactly did a deadline become all important?
And when did you become this thing that replaced his blood and passion with coffee and late meetings?
So are you now someone that we wont recognize?
Then where can you go next?

We would always check the charts like we were obsessed with the results of promotion and TV appearances
We broke our ankles that bleed from performing off our bed that was pretending to be a stage
We even screamed through our dangerous streets when a certain song was played from a nearby open window
We could cope with the bad times because I can’t remember my life before Blondie arrived...

These things kept us going with arms double speed and body moving
So tell me when did you stop dancing?

© 2007 Steven Pottle

"The Dandy Lion"

I blow
I blow again
The times floats by from my windy lips
And a million umbrellas copter along so beautiful

Children smile-
They suddenly realise that nature grows its own freely available tick-tocks

Please skip wild
Please wave strong
Flowers get carried away
Spreading sex all over the city.

© 2007 Steven Pottle

"Animal Rights"

It was late last night when the pigs entered the shed
Every gun was slowly trotted off and hidden away
And the sheep finally cut free from the fence that fenced them
They followed one another over to where the light had just gone out
They all studied the piles of weapons and shivered with thought.

They were silent in their manoeuvre except for the lowing of a signal
The cattle swished air rifles with their tails, quietly splashing them into the river
And the horses trampled the knives so that they resembled nothing
This happened at the same time all over the world
In every major city, tiny town and unknown village.

By the morning the animals had gathered at all doorsteps and yards
They were calm in their minds but shook with confrontation
Without a sound they want to reclaim their lives and silently call for respect
Within a minute the trees stood still and the breeze disappeared
And the flies were the only noise to be heard for miles around.

Now there stood man with no natural defence except for his hands
Confused, whimpering, pleading and careful with his words
Just how could he justify all the years of pain and humiliation?
On one knee, then falling onto two- he crawled and lined up on parade
And then a hoof pulled the trigger with the help of a wing
Now on the land everything was king.

© 2007 Steven Pottle

Saturday, 25 August 2007

"The Finding"

They release a warm fuzz
That raises the hairs on my arms and neck
There is a kind of fizzing that travels to a smile
And for someone so honest
I cannot open my eyes

I dare not draw out my arms to a wide line
Not through fear of falling
But through fear of finally finding...

Looking into a dark part of my heart
And seeing those eyes replying
My body began to crawl double and all I wanted was my Mummy
I've always searched for a hand to hold
And now there's one palmed for me

I cannot stand on the edge and just walk away
That's not how the story has been
I am scared to be at the end of hunting
Because the found seems worse than the finding.

© 2007 Steven Pottle


All is silent on the front line
All is static on the wasteland
Not a movement on the horizon
I can relax for a moment before the next one falls

With a heart dying to breathe in complete misery
I will try to nurse it back to it's normal condition-
Which is wishing to be happy and calm in its beating
I will try to help you before the night time falls

The dark and black will attempt to take us all
Seeping into your dreams and new experiences
But that is ok as all endings lead to new beginnings

So I tread across the barbwire that lay on their heads
I snip little gaps that let in fresh air to the forehead
My filthy hands with muddy nails try to release the pain
I talk as I walk as I want to lead by example

We have dug our holes in preparation for the worse
And as the sound of bombs fall-
Listen to my words as I am louder
We must cradle the ones that remain safe and warm…

All is peaceful again
We believe again
I have done my duty so I move on again
I can relax for a moment before the next one falls.

© 2007 Steven Pottle

"At The End Of The Day"

The heart falls asleep to the sound
Of the mind trying to complete another day
So flutter little butterfly muscle
Sing yourself a gentle lullaby

Everyday we try our hardest not to smash into others and concrete
And we try to avoid another stressful encounter on the street
But with this great rainfall and heavy thunder
There should always follow some warmth and comfort

I hope that the day didn't destroy your beliefs
And that the black clouds are horizoned underneath
Because the heart wants to breath slow
And the mind wants to follow
So let them rest back-
So that they are lined up with your feet

Closed curtains and blank lights
Eyes heavy and they will sleep tight
This all comes at the end of the day
So I softly say a quiet goodnight.

© 2007 Steven Pottle

"Forget Me Not"

We can easily breath in all new aromas
Better petals make my worn colours fade
But be prepared to be betrayed
As they exist just to be displayed
So the smell of your old flowers suddenly improve
The closer you get to the grave.

© 2007 Steven Pottle


I work somewhere below underground
Near to where the soil meets the core
And the earth generates its greatest pull

I have to make sure that everyone is ok
And they don't get sucked out into lost space
I'm just trying to keep it all together
So I place myself in between and hold on tight.

When the time has passed and we have survived
I have done my job and the world stays alive.

© 2007 Steven Pottle

"The Beginning...Or The End?"

"The Beginning...Or The End?"
(c) Steven Pottle 2007