Ste Bamberough

I’m fairly new to writing, starting in 2018, and up until now I’m unpublished . The theme of my work is gritty and often blunt I’m heavily influenced by emotional turmoil, social inequality and political absurdity. I grew up in a small pit village in Durham but currently reside in Merseyside. I’m looking to release a book of poetry in the future and I’m currently working on a novella.

I’ll have an E please Bob

Alive and crackling awaiting that weekend train to euphoria
The 5 ticks marked for meagre credits punched electronically 
Into a withering chasm of make and take 
A jilted and wilted horde destroyed before their time 
Spewing their bile on a sticky  floor among their wide eyes sweat dripping brethren
Riding a bass filled wave to a crescendo  of pumping muscles and strained sinews 
Catatonic eyes follow dancing lights drawing their own shapes 
Shrills Pierce the pounding bins as chaotic formations merge like a crashing sea
The weary throng on the outsides catching breath and showering heads 
Then back into the fold of entangled souls 
The night will play many parts shape lives  destroy livers minds and spines
But it was the closest you got to God without dying 

I’ll play you for grand 

Green baize burns with UC rage 

as  white follows black into supernova 

Powdered mountains  hoovered and consumed into wide eyed angst 

Fools pitied as pine splinters flesh and bone to roars and dance of the baying monsoon

Sheffield electro bounces off tobacco walls wailing and unyielding like being boiled 

Blood splatters the Queen as kirk smiles in a periwinkle blue suited portrait 

 giants crunch fried bones dripping greased menace  from ivory towers

Working class Sunday theatre presents reality in technicolour scratch and sniff

In sticky breakfast club coliseums 

As lions stare defeat hung drawn and quartered 

Violently stuffed down Christian throats 

In glorious juxtapose

White phosphate

Cold was her stare, but her pale skin burned like white phosphate on the back of a Palestinian child 
Her copper frame draws him in to her spiked embrace, her sharp aqua eyes sweet like her smooth cunt 
a honey dipped rose that blossoms as its tended by pink fingers
Till the thick dirt under the nails clogs the heart and poisons her mind
She purges it out like acrid lucozade on to pristine Laura Ashley sheets
Mascara and lipstick swirled around like a shit Jackson pollock
a piece long lost to alcoholic procrastination
Then crumpled and discarded, buried under empty waitrose wine boxes and a carrier bag of dog shit
The curse of being happy once and the pain of destroying it through vanity
A spell to remain unbroken till dirty seed is emptied on a barron patch of scorched earth
Till then.. she beats a hasty retreat to the arms of tomorrow's demons 

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