1060 - Music and musing

I’ve got a sore left eye. Resting tonight
Getting up early tomorrow morning
To look after Josie. Losing the fight
To write tonight, even though I’m feeling
Both bored and guilty. Once again fleeing
Responsibility. Consolation
In the Proms live on TV. This screening
Contains works by Berlioz and Mendelssohn
With such musical treasure, being alone
Is not such a big thing; rather, a flight
Through history, emotion, suffering…
I must mention the weather. Evening sun
After terrible downpours that have quite
Drenched July, and are still continuing
Thur 30 July 2009

1059 - Up early

So short of sleep, I went to work today
The guy below was singing, half-seven
Before that I’d been woken up by… Hey!
Wheelie bins being dragged at 7.15?
What gives? Got up and went in. Yes, went in
But not much done, well, unsurprisingly
A works do, with beer and a meal looming
Blokes at one end, the girls all separately
But later, managed to talk to Tracey
While eyeing up the girls in the bar; they
Had legs to die for. Wasted, wasted on
Whoever they were with, temporarily
The rain eased off, the sun came out to play
And in the end it was a nice evening
Wed 29 July 2009

1029 - Death's eye

Death’s eye does not look down on us tonight
For it has lost its visionary gleam
And so, not from death’s eye comes any fright
But only from our own internal scream
The light of death, a dark red laser beam
That penetrates our skin, reaches our heart
And, as we lie in bed, dissolved in dream
Some part of us tells us it’s time to part
Our own executioner, our own dart
Rises from within, reaches a great height
Then turns, descending, too fast to be seen
Not seen, just felt, victim of prisoner’s art
A cold black feeling spreading from one bite
Your hear your organs play your funeral theme
Mon 29 June 2009

987 - Man flu, Day 2

Ooh! Aah! Ouch! Eek! And, Oh My God! Still ill!!!
Sore throat, organs aching, unsteady feet
As bad as last night, hot flushes, cold spells
So I stayed at home to recuperate
This afternoon, a visit from Janet
Cheered me up as I was eating dinner
She rang to say she was outside, and wet
She’d bought some treats for me! Surprise! Let her
Up to the flat. She looked so smart in her
Work clothes. To be close again was a thrill
And it was touching that she’d been so sweet
As my clothes dried on the radiator
We could not really kiss in case I filled
Her with these awful germs… On with the fight!
Mon 18 May 2009

986 - Man at death's door with a cold

The aches and pains are multiplying….Oh!
I’ve had them for days, even been worried
But just a cold, a sore throat, that is no
Reason for alarm. Panic? There’s no need
So now it just feels like a bug, I’ll heed
My common-sense, and stay in and relax
Not had much rest lately; days seized with greed
Are catching up with me. Work / play to max
And at some point, your body will collapse
Had hoped to watch Andy’s festival show
But I’m ill, Janet’s busy, so the key
Decision’s been made. Rest! Eyes ache, attacks
By little beings on my organs go
On. They shall not pass! Antibodies! Lead!
Sun 17 May 2009

978 - I'm feelin it

When bodies touch, minds also do the same
For body is mind, and mind is body
There is no soul, there’s no eternal flame
There is no body/mind duality
Love is the high point, love’s the ecstasy
Not just for body, but also for mind
The mind is nervous system, superbly
Evolved, but still nerve tissue, all combined
Into one network, like roads, railway lines
From toe of Italy to Roman brain
From toe of Cornwall to London City
Inextricably linked and intertwined
Microchip DNA, a sensual chain
Body is mind: hear, touch, smell, taste and see
Sat 9 May 2009

968 - Travelogue

Last day in the office for a while - great!
A two-day meeting in a York hotel,
The usual booze-up and meal on our plates
Then, when it’s over, Friday night my girl
And I will reunite, her slim legs curled
Around me, hopefully, like times before
Being close to her’s the best thing in the world
Going on an anatomical tour
Is a thrill when there’s time to kill, to score
Is always my goal; like chess, she’s my mate
And then, on Sunday, I fly off to Pearl
In Paris, where I’ll happily spend four
Days by the Seine, then back home very late
On Friday morning. Hope it all goes well!
Wed 29 Apr 2009

958 - April jazz

A sunny evening chilling out with jazz
A Sunday evening filled out with football
Someday my evenings will be fulfilled ’coz
Somebody’s thrilled even with me, the wall
Torn down they built to keep me good and small
Storm through it, kill the guards, and make sure you
Form letters from their spilled blood, big and tall
Drawn symbols of my freedom, willed, now true
Forge on through weary piles of residue
George Shearing’s ‘I’ll Remember April’ plays
Resurgent warning words I hear still fall
From sunny morning lips of wine-stained hue
As Sunday morning slips from last night’s haze
Someday my mornings won’t bring trips and falls
Sun 19 Apr 2009

951 - Brainstorm

My brain is disabled, I’ve writer’s block
And even thinker’s block, it’s shock and awe
Up there in my head, just this loud tick tock
That’s blocking out the things that came before
I saw you, a tick tock more like a roar
I’ll sock it to you, I’ll unpick the lock
I’ll peek into the keyhole in your door
I’ll make you jump, eyes wide shut with the shock
I’ll feel for you, I’ll make you reel and rock
Rattle your crockery, open your drawer
Plant seeds in your rockery, write the book
Of love again before the ticking clock
Starts sticking; stocking up my late night store
Of lightning, lighting up your shady nook
Sun 12 Apr 2009

949 - Good Good Friday

It’s been a good Good Friday, yes it has
Stayed over at your place and it was fine
Seriously sleep-deprived I am, because
Of work and play, conversation and wine
It’s been a good Good Friday, despite rain
We even walked in it and didn’t care
We kept on getting wet but didn’t mind
Even inside, there’s plenty to explore
You said that it was important to share
You shared with me your electric fingers
When they weren’t on me, they were on my mind
It’s been a good Good Friday, but compare
It to what’s to come, and we’d better pause
Briefly for rest from loving overtime
Fri 10 Apr 2009

944 - Springtime up in the hills

It’s late again, another night at yours
And not forgetting our little day trip
To Uppermill, all pleasure without pause
Surely we cannot let this great chance slip?
You know how I adore you, want to sip
Each pore of you like red wine, then refill
The glass immediately, savour each drip
Intoxicate you, then turn up each thrill
Until you are a helpless wreck, until
Life is too sweet to bear, then more, because
My mission is to make you flop and flip
And lose your head; I want to be the pill
You need to take in increasing numbers
Now please just pop this in between your lips
Sun 5 Apr 2009

930 - Flashback to last night

Had you on my mind all through the morning
Had you on my mind in the afternoon
Had you on my mind even this evening
I hope we see each other again soon
One thing’s for sure, you aren’t a big balloon
So fine and slim I know you’ll always be
So light, but teasingly dark, with a tune
That’s not out of tune with the tune in me
But different too, enigma, mystery
Experience too much for the telling
Of people, places, fun in sun and moon
A sunny disposition, a sexy
Position on the sofa, you stretching
Those legs and rubbing them. Too much too soon!
Sun 22 Mar 2009

924 - Blood on the strings

Last night I cleaned the blood off my guitar
From Friday's gig. I'd not dared use my pick
In case I dropped it way down on the floor
From my high stool, making me look a prick
I'd strummed for hours at home, but at the gig
My fingers bled by the third song, maybe
Because the guitar fell down flat, I flicked
The strings too hard, I don't know. It shocked me
After I finished singing, hands gory
And that's when fingers started to feel sore:
Only when I saw blood; that cartoon trick
When the character flew till he saw he
Had gone off a cliff, and then he fell far
Down into the sea, legs, arms, flailing quick
Mon 16 Mar 2009

915 - No cider with Josie

Slept well and got up about nine, breakfast
The usual orange juice and pills, cereal
And then a shave, a shower, fresh clothes; aghast
At the state of my hair, slapped on some gel
Looked at The Beeb’s Writers’ Room for intel
About what they go for with sitcom plots
And characters must seem real; show, not tell
And other rules…Obey, or lose your slots
Took Josie to Alderley to take shots
Of her on a tank, but it had got lost
No police car or fire engine either… Well,
We went to Gourmet Burger Kitchen, hot
On the High Street right now; then, shopping. Last
Was the park. Evening at home (musical)
Sat 7 Mar 2009

883 - Lying to myself

I don’t make my bed, but I lie in it
It’s cosy and warm, a little noisy
My face on the pillow dribbles its spit
The digital clock says it’s half-past three
The night’s half-gone; not lonely, just sleepy
As flakes fall off and float onto the floor
Fresh skin metamorphosed to dust bunny
So painlessly done, I sleep on once more
Dreams undisturbed till I wake, and then for
A few seconds, a flashback to my split
From daytime’s fate to night-time’s fantasy
Where it belongs, a quasi-heavenly bore
Comfortable padded cell to self-restrict
Resisting unpredictability
Tue 3 Feb 2009

875 - Spooky tooth

Went to the dentist, now I’ve one tooth less
It was dead anyway, grey and painful
Because above it was trapped an abscess
The dentist used all of his strength to pull
My dead tooth out that with filling was full
And therefore brittle. Spittle, metal, blood
Filled my mouth, till the loose tooth popped, to roll
Down to my throat, choking me if it could
But I coughed it up, praised the dentist’s good
Work, then went to work myself (be impressed!)
Spitting blood on the way; maybe a fool
To do so, but guilt couldn’t be withstood
After three days off last week. Mouth’s a mess,
All dried blood and a clot that just won’t heal
Mon 26 Jan 2009

872 - What time is it? Tooth hurty

A quick sonnet before the toothache burns
The paracetamol’s still working now
But fiery waves of pain will soon return
The tides of hell from point of chin to brow
Started in bed but cold juice made it grow
Followed by cold milk on my cereal
These inflamed the upper left gum, and how
Had no choice but to give dentist a call
In person, but with appointment book full
I’ll have to hang on till Monday. I’ll learn
To visit the mouth torturer, allow
Regular charges for his pain and bull
Shit, but not yet. He doesn’t need to earn
Much more, does he? I don’t need him! Ow! Ow!
Fri 23 Jan 2009

869 - Bad back

My bad back is back, back to being bad
They run like noses in my family
My mum’s bad back is back, and once my dad
Slipped a disc, face frozen in agony
My brother can’t slack; fact is, his money
Grows from cleaning rows of windows, and so
When he goes up his ladder, mad is he
When his bad back gets badder, don’t you know?
But back to my bad back: in days of snow
Delivering papers, twice daily, I had
A big bag on my shoulder, holding the
Times supplements, uncoupling spine joints: no
Straight back till a year later. Just injured
My back running on park tracks. On sickie…
Tue 20 Jan 2009

859 - It couldn't happen here

What would it matter if our hearts stopped now?
We think we matter, but it’s just to us
Like locusts we swarm, eager to devour
Hell’s getting hotter with each car and bus
Are stoics, or maybe mass murderers
The most logical thinkers of the lot
Because they’ve concluded nothing matters
Why not be super-cool or extra-hot?
Or laugh in the torturer’s face - why not?
That’s one thing he hates, won’t ever allow
Upset the rotten applecart, make news
Abuse them back, some new gunpowder plot
For good needs goodness to grow. Plough and sow
Poisonous seeds and all we’ll reap is dust
Sat 10 Jan 2009

855 - It's a chill wind

Cold Arctic wind combined with clear blue sky
Diagonally crossed by vapour trail
Means rather than go out for a walk, I
Will stay at my desk this lunchtime. The pale
Sun oversees anaemically the tale
Of winter once again, cold spells that sting
The face and fingers, trying not to fail
Employers' expectations; I'm struggling
With aching gums and teeth, and following
Up things I've started, ambitions I try
To meet, lost in the cold atmosphere, stale
As working life reasserts its draining
Of energy and hope. Old people die
In unheated flats. The last coffin nail.
Tue 6 Jan 2009