by Simon Icke | Sep 12, 2010 | Poetry
Have we forgotten their ultimate sacrifice? Of these men and women who died in their thousands? including so many emergency service people, who acted so very brave without question; proud of their free world; not ashamed to be Christian, (or any other faith of their...
by Simon Icke | Sep 12, 2010 | Poetry
Down our Little Hulton Irwell Road … it’s; ‘Young versus Old’. Us lads don’t want to play with toys, we want to play football and make a noise. We play from morning till night; sometimes under the street light and sometimes in the garages...
by Simon Icke | Jun 10, 2010 | Poetry
Down our street it’s ever so neat, You rarely hear the sound of childrens’ feet. Tidy gardens and pretty flowers, No factory chimneys or towers. Commuters who come home in their company cars, That look at us as though we’re from mars. We are supposed...
by Simon Icke | Jun 10, 2010 | Poetry
“Football! Football! Football!” That’s all I ever hear, “Football! Football! Football!” Being shouted in my ear, “Football! Football! Football!” Lots of sweaty fans, “Football! Football! Football!” All those waving...
by Simon Icke | Jun 10, 2010 | Poetry
Here comes Tubby Jones Bringing out the cones. ‘Will Tubby be playing today?’ His mother said. ‘It all depends on how much he’s been fed!’ I felt such a nit, When I told her he wasn’t fit. ‘I would love to play him in a game,...
