1. A Nightmare Song That May Come True

    We used to say that we were Great,
    we flew the Union Jack.
    It waved in all its glory,
    red, white and blue against the dark.

    We used to sing God Save the Queen,
    while wondering why she
    was the focus of our anthem,
    not the island home in which we breathed.

    I spent the day with colleagues
    doing much the same old thing.
    But I became an immigrant,
    the day my country died.

    We never saw it come apart
    until it was too late.
    We talked of one United land
    of freedom, life and art.

    We gave the world a way of life,
    though not always done in peace.
    Together we beat the Fascists,
    though at times we caged the free.

    I spent the day daydreaming
    hoping for news that we’d stay bound.
    But I became an immigrant,
    the day my country died.

    Nationalists made promises
    of wealth for all the poor.
    They were lying through their teeth then,
    though their smiles be shiny now.

    It’s all the same deceitful lie
    that others be to blame.
    Fast forward into ten years time
    to see them blame your town.

    I spent the day in torment
    knowing nothing stays the same.
    And I became an immigrant,
    the day my country died.

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014

  2. Bad person blues

    Well now I have hurt you,
    as my MO is;
    try not to disturb you

    Through the pain in my gut,
    cast a spell upon;
    all my emotion

    Sicker now than then, but
    yet still frail as ever,

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014

  3. Msg 2 U

    You are not the end,
    You are not the beginning.
    You may not even be the middle.
    But you are the fucking shit.

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014

  4. Futures market

    Seen us all as dying animals.
    Pavement full of feathers.
    Burial keeps the disease away,
    token gestures in time.
    Shouting yourself hoarse,
    full of rage.
    Death comes softly.

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014

  5. Broken Kingdom

    Descent into chaos
    and our country is dead.
    Prepare to debate your identity,

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014

  6. Residual epiphanies

    Now that we no longer exist
    carry my memory homeward from Starburst to bliss;
    as expletives roll over your hard-bitten mind
    treasure the emptiness locked out from inside.

    Tapping at windows you see as brick walls,
    roping us backwards from net to award;
    allegedly special but never untrue
    galactic as radio, cold dead as vacuum.

    You and I were never meant to be.

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014

  7. Hiding to nothing

    Stroll right into defeat,
    and take a beating
    and repeat,
    and repeat.

    And repeat,
    and repeat,
    and repeat.
    then go back and repeat.

    It doesn’t even take me off my feet.
    But it slowly dulls my edge.
    If it doesn’t kill you
    then it doesn’t really make you stronger;
    it just hurts,
    and then it hurts,
    and then it hurts.

    And whatever else you do,
    whatever else you change,
    whoever else you’re with
    it’s gonna hurt.

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014

  8. Hotel envelope

    Wrote you a letter,
    ten pages long;
    to explain what is right
    and reveal what went wrong.

    Not sure if you’ll read it,
    or even if you’ll know;
    exactly how hopeless
    I’ll be if you don’t.

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014

  9. Meaning less

    No-win situations
    in which we are
    forced to be disappointing
    while false friends laugh;
    every execution is a party
    until it’s your turn.

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014

  10. Something in the way (Oh, now I get it)

    It’s in the way that waves move,
    the way they slip and they groove,
    all hips, sway and swing
    but not so solid it shakes.

    It’s in the way the sun blinds,
    reflected off of the surface,
    rays bounce and shine in moments;
    constant stream of interjections.

    It’s in the way your eyes turn,
    in how you hide with your face
    the way you really feel, like
    emotional display is just a type of disgrace.

    Copyright Mark Manchester 2014