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Bernie the Bolt 


Bernie-the-Bolt is a female punk poet from Keighley Town. Her poetry is raw, satirical, fresh and very radical and cuts deeper than a knife. She started out writing when she was 15 and has since worked her way up to gain a good following on the local poetry scene. She’s bringing the revolution your way. Are you ready to join her?



Right now I’m barely breathing my heads touching the top of the surface whilst I’m drowning inside Trying to hide how I truly feel right now I’m sinking I’m going faster then the speed of light as at night I cry myself to sleep with worry coz I get scrutinised, demoralised and every so often sensationalised even victimised dramatised and hypnotised; whilst taking everyone’s opinion in hand I listen I act I think and in the brink of an eye like a mad bull in a raging fire I whisper to myself “am I good enough? tough enough and Strong enough?? to be a frontline social worker”?. 

Copyright (c) 2020 by Bernie-the-Bolt {Poet} 

‘Invisible Chains’ - (A Poem About Mental Health)


Do You See The Scissors In My Tired Eyes?

Or The Slits On My Precious Wrists, Which Bleed?

Do You See The Maps Smothered In Steel?

Blackberries Hold Me On A Metal Lead.


Does My Face Resemble Tenebrous Letters?

For, I Am Stained With The Devil’s Dust.

As My Bones Freeze, Locked Up In Pain.

Gnawing Down On A Mouldy Bread Crust.


Do You See The Flesh Dissolving Rapidly?

As The Crows Peck Away At Your Insides.

A Victim At Shutter Island’s Bleak Gate.

As Cherries Smoke You, Like Stygian Tides.


No Dancing With Velvet, Beneath The Stars.

For, Body Rockers Like Skeletons, Crawl.

Through Your Veins To Torment Your Soul.

Whispering: “We Come To Make You Fall”.


Different Perceptions Drip Feeding Ears.

But What Of Me: Who Am I To Glary You?

Just Another Statistic On Paper To Chase?

Medicated In Striped Pyjamas Queue?


Am I A Ghost, For, My Plasters Are Hidden?

Where Is Mr. Mango, To Hold My Hand?

You Ask Drenched In Noirs Salt-Bath.

As Hamlet, Divides This Precious Land.


Abusive Fingertips That Pocket Shrapnel.

Those Streets I Roamed, Are Empty Tombs.

For, The Army Kids Are On Their Way.

Boxing Crackers Into Darkened Rooms.


Can Ignorance Be Sliced Razor Sharp?

Let’s Eradicate Oppression, Here, Today.

Cleansing Souls Injected With Dynamite.

Hold On Mother Fuckers: Coz, You’re Gonna Be Okay!!!


Copyright © 2017 by Bernie-the-Bolt {K-Town Punk Poet}.

Anxiety and Me 


I Need To Get Out Alive, Dear Doctor.
I Need To Get Out Alive.
But, One Thing That’s Really Frightening Me.
Is I Don’t Know How I’ll Survive.


I Need To Run Away, Dear Doctor.
I Need To Run Away.
Because I Know That I Can’t Face Reality.
When It Hits Me Hard Everyday.


I Have To Be Strong And Bold, Dear Doctor.
I Have To Be Strong And Bold.
To Protect Me From The Madness Outside.
Where It’s Heartless, And Ruthless, And Cold.


I Need A Medicinal Friend, Dear Doctor.
I Need A Medicinal Friend.
Because I Know That Life Is So Much Easier.
When On Someone Else We Can Depend!


I Need A Sense Of Hope, Dear Doctor.
I Need A Sense Of Hope.
Because Chemical Imbalances I Want To Reduce.
And Better Learn How To Cope.


I Will One Day Cut Loose, Dear Doctor.
I Will One Day Cut Loose.
And Kiss Goodbye To This Fatal Disease.
Which Fucked Me Up Like A Golden Goose!!!


Copyright © 2019 by Bernie-the-Bolt {K-Town Punk Poet}.


I Am Gentleman Jack.

I Don’t Conform, To The Stereotypical Norm. 

I Just Do As I Fucking Please.

But… That Makes Me A Target To Tease. 

You See, I Must Be Severely Abnormal, Because I Don’t Like Toad Int’ Hole.

As It’s Not The Way I Like To Score A Good Goal. 

But, Still, Ethnocentric Preachers Barbarically Brand Me, As Being Part Of The Plastic Population.

And I’ve Just Died Inside, Because I’ve Continuously Cried, Due To Feeling Like An Abomination.

YES! I Am Gentleman Jack.

Chemically Imbalanced Like The Joker, Because I Don’t Dance To The General Public’s Sickening Beat.

As I Kiss Girls, And I’m Clever, And Never Will I Ever, Be A Paper Statistic That They Successfully Defeat. 

Section 28 Is Lodged In My Head And Throat, And I Can’t Help But Feel A Sense Of Exhilarating Pride.

Because I Was Courageously Bold, In My Truth I Told, Living A Hedonistic Lifestyle Which Was Never To Be Denied.

Counterproductive Or Radicalized Revolutions; Just How Far Are You Willing To Go To Change?

An Institutional Ideology, That Offers No Apology, As It Detrimentally Views All Us Gays As Being: “Nothing But A Little Bloody Strange”. 

YES! I Am Gentleman Jack.

An Iconoclastic Punk-Toned-Rebel At Heart. 

And This Is How I Roll, Full Of Self-Control, Because I Know That My Individuality Is A Fine Work Of Art.

And So… You Can Keep Your Minimalistic Minds, Because In Blood It Binds, And Reminds Me Of An Abusive Past.

Because Flippin’ Hot Liquor, Creating A Bureaucratically Sicker Agenda Like This, Ain’t Bound To Last!

YES! I Am Gentleman Jack.

Gentleman Jack.

Gentleman Jack.

And I Will No Longer Be Under Your Attack.

Because I’ve Finally Learnt How To Fight Back.



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Repetitive Strain Injury by Bernie-the-Bolt

Repetitive Strain Injury by Bernie-the-Bolt

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Invisible Chains - Bernie-the-Bolt

Invisible Chains - Bernie-the-Bolt

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Meltdown - Bernie-the-Bolt

Meltdown - Bernie-the-Bolt

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