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1 year ago
The Cats' Protection League by Roger McGough
Roger McGough was born in Liverpool in 1937 and is an English performance poet. He presents the BBC Radio 4 programme Poetry Please, which I recomm...
corblimeynorthern • 13,791 views
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1 year ago
JONESFEST: Root Dogs & Mark T
Jonesfest 2008: A concert celebrating the life of Garry Jones at 21 South Street, Reading, 23.02.08.
Root Dogs & Mark T; Waiting For A Change.
ht...
skidrowe60 • 467 views
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1 year ago
ROOTDOGS - Where Are You Going?
NEW CD FROM MARK T. - FOLK SONGS AND BALLADS - OUT NOW!
DOWNLOAD FROM AMAZON
28westlodge • 3,086 views
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1 year ago
GALLOWS POLE (RE-MASTERED)
NEW CD FROM MARK T. - FOLK SONGS AND BALLADS - OUT NOW!
DOWNLOAD FROM AMAZON
28westlodge • 1,131 views
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1 year ago
CHORUS fea. David Jackson
Richard Westall collaborates with David Jackson on saxophone and programming and two members of the West Berkshire community band Time Spanners on ...
106 views
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1 year ago
SLUGS & DIAMONDS
Written & read by Richard Westall
Filmed by Roger Pugh
Music by Mark T.
90 views
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uploaded
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1 year ago
David Jackson Birthday Interview
Richard Westall interviews David Jackson on his sixty first birthday.
The interview spans David's career from boy vocal soloist to Van Der Graaf Ge...
spannerchannel • 2,027 views
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1 year ago
SOME_HUNT.VOB
Written and read by Richard Westall.
Video Roger Pugh
Music Mark T.
180 views
WESTIVALWORLDS
uploaded
About CYBER POET
Created by
WESTIVALWORLDSLatest Activity
Oct 13, 2010Date Joined
Apr 13, 2010About this user
Here sits the PoetPen clenched in hand, a lit fuse,
Ready to explode!
Here sits the Poet
And some of his words can burn,
Phosphor and Naplam
Have nothing on them
Jam pots lurk here,
Become Submarines, Amen!
When does his pen change
To an ancient bayonet,
Thrusting at old wounds?
His are the mad hands
Catching a missile, in flight,
Risks fingers for love,
His hands are bone gloves,
Not part of his arms, instead
Hands lent to the World,
To touch others, clutch
Thrust fingers through paper, now,
Like some Spring flower,
So the Poet sits,
Making ploughshares, from swords,
And here are the words...