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

1051 - Summer in Manchester

The summer drags on… The late light’s okay
But every day it rains. In Manchester!!
I sound surprised. I shouldn’t feel that way
Because rain’s ever-present through the year
In Britain, specially in northern areas
Got some things done at work, drafting guidance
And afterwards, a Chinese and some beers
So much meat eaten lately, and a chance
To stuff myself with mushrooms more than once
I’m back home now and it’s too late to play
Music; a pint of Wobbly Bob beer
Has put paid to my muse: she’s gone to France
Or maybe Mars or Venus. The dark grey
Of nightfall approaches, as I sit here
Tue 21 July 2009

1048 - Homework

A busy day at home… What did I do?
It’s all a beer-soaked blur now, finally
Amazingly, I cleaned all my windows
I’ve now got windows through which you can see!
I’ve almost finished a new track, to be
Called ‘Couldn’t Think Of Anything To Say’
It needs remixing, keyboard part, maybe
And after four hours doing that, a play
On the guitar, the first for many days
Watched Monty Python, ‘Elizabeth’ too
Cate Blanchett in love with Walter Raleigh!
Walter, he chased the Armada away
No sign of Francis Drake…But that’s how you
Keep the Yanks interested in history!
Sat 18 July 2009

1047 - Blue Boar Blues

I’m sitting in the Blue Boar in Bolton
I’ve read a few short poems, drunk a few
I came by train, don’t worry: drink drivin’
Ain’t my scene. Now I’m free to drink a brew
Or two or three or four. Now what are you
Doin’ this Friday night? The rain’s fallin’
My hair’s flattened, constantly need the loo
And every few seconds, seems I’m smokin’
The piss-stained pavements, not so appealin’
I’m sittin’ here alone… Where are you, hun?
I miss our times together. I miss you
I hate goin’ out by myself, thinkin’
Everyone’s thinking’ ‘This guy’s all alone!’
Well yes, but at least I’m free, unlike you…
Fri 17 July 2009

1041 - In Ireland 3 - Cork and Kerry mountains

Torrential rain all day, till around six
Drove from Killarney to good old Bantry
Across the Gap of Dunloe, with its tricks
Of tight bends, sheep and rain, incessantly
Caught sixty winks down by the Bantry quay
And then found Bantry Boys’ Club (That was hard!)
Tonight was a good night for poetry
It seemed to go down well, seems to have scored
A local hit: a succession of bards
Some more traditional, some with music
Even some kids and food, additionally
And afterwards… What happened afterwards?
Oh yeah, more drinks and chat with the poets
Who’d come from all Ireland and overseas
Sat 11 July 2009

1011 - Not so fantastic voyage

A night without alcohol's always fine
For getting things done, and saving money
Booze has the same drawbacks as heroin
Drugs slow thought and action, and are costly
So what attracts us to them so strongly
That not taking them takes so much effort?
They trap us physically and mentally
They're hard to justify by rational thought
They are a craving, they’re a dangerous sport
They make the dullest evening seem to shine
And then recede into sleep peacefully
The heart beats faster on its oars till port
Is reached, and the wild waves of tossing brine
Are calmed in deathly dark docks, finally
Thur 11 June 2009

980 - Monday night in Bolton

The cold, litter-swept streets of Bolton town
Are pierced not only by the freezing wind
But by the shouts of lads playing the clown
The shaven-headed and track-suited kind
The dignified town hall’s clockface aligned
More with the moon than these streets down below
Maintaining high standards, seemingly blind
To economic downturn, social woe
The stained pavements and walls of each long row
Of pubs and bars and clubs streaked grey and brown
We pass a passed-out woman, left behind
For ambulancemen to mop up as they go
Down old and bitter streets, back up and down
In pubs the hard laughter brings pain to mind
Mon 11 May 2009

975 - Drinking and smoking outside Notre Dame

Drinking and smoking outside Notre Dame
And at long last the sun now shows its face
All nationalities come here disarmed
All people relax in this ancient place
Photo-opportunities; cameras race
Accents Spanish and Asian, French, German
Young, middle-aged and old, time can’t erase
These special scenes, sunlit moments of fun
Me, I’m content, beer bottle number one
Almost empty; with number two I’m armed
Bottles of Kronenbourg don’t go to waste
Preparing for the match that’s still to come
(Chelsea/Barcelona) and so the aim
Is to get pissed cheaply in this fine place!
Wed 6 May 2009

974 - Plastered in Paris 2

Un autre jour à Paris: Sainte-Chappelle
A fuckin’ long queue, mais it was worthwhile
Those stained-glass fenêtres: sensationelles!
Un peut de shopping, home for a piss, then we’ll
Go for a falafel, served with a smile
Fed les pigeons; on est allé au Musée
Carnavalet, where luckily twas real
Easy a prendre des photos, regarder
Le lit de Proust. Turned into a good day
Despite the clouds. I was OK, but Pearl
Was fatiguée. Walked over to the Ile
De la Cité, ou Pearl est occupée
Dans son restaurant. I thought, fuckin’ ell
What to do next? Qu’est-ce que c’est difficile
Tue 5 May 2009

972 - Plastered in Paris

Je m’asseois a la table extérieure du Bar
Trappiste, à Châtelet, à Paris, France
Ce bar-ci est près de la rivière
Il y a beaucoup de bieres; oui, quelle bon chance!
Ici, je peux fumer, ici je pense
Je peux me reposer aussi; depuis trois
Nuits je suis fatigué; alors, espoir
Que je dormirai bien. Je ne sais pas
Ce que nous feron demain: peut-etre Bois
De Boulogne et Passy; se promener
Au bord de la Seine. D’avoir des bonne vacances
Ne sera pas difficile, mais ce soir
Ma fille est occupé près de Shakespeare
And Co., à la Rive Gauche, dans un restaurant
Sun 3 May 2009

970 - Hotel bed 2

I’m sorry, my love, not many sweet dreams
Mainly my own fault, also partly theirs
Making me stay up late chatting, the themes
Of work and private life a colleague shares
In pubs, restaurants, through the wee small hours
Got off to sleep okay, but woke at six
Disturbed by sounds from the next room, those showers
Those lightswitches, tap turnings, all those clicks
Those hums, those coughs, doors, voices, real sick tricks
Like ignored wake-up calls… To me it seems
Unthinkable to sleep on unawares
Through three such calls, but next door’s guest, he likes
To wake up slowly, he needs three alarms
So now I’m really knackered, sorry dear
Fri 1 May 2009

969 - Hotel bed

I’m writing this here on my hotel bed
So that I can go out and drink my fill
And, when I get back, can empty my head
And bladder, hop in bed, exit the real
Scenic train ride to York, hill after hill
Until, after Leeds, Yorkshire land turns flat
A pleasant spring walk, Minster’s clanging bell
Celebrating or warning, but of what?
Our meeting, as expected, filled with chat
Big mouths that mustn’t be interrupted
Big and small thoughts, it all made John feel ill
But still, that long agenda has been brought
Close to the end, and that’s what we wanted
Tomorrow’s session all gently downhill
Thur 30 Apr 2009

942 - Sweet tongues

This Belgian beer’s good stuff, I sleep real good
Each morning, drifting in and out I go
Finally, out of bed and down the road
I walk, listening to rock, soul and disco
Discussing work, chatting and reading through
Today’s emails, getting quite a lot done
Refreshed in body and mind, the window
Lets in the misty morning breeze, but come
Lunchtime the cool mist is replaced by sun
Blue skies again to sweeten my workload
Made sweeter still by knowing what I know
About you so far, telling everyone
Tonight’s the night we eat our fill, the food
Will be so sweet…Shame that I’ll have to go….
Fri 3 Apr 2009

929 - Let's drink to that

I’m excited, a bit nervous, maybe
Because I’ve got a date an hour from now
Quite soon I’ll quickly get myself ready
Change clothes, brush teeth, check hair, then walk to town
She’s coming by bus, from not too far, down
Didsbury / Chorlton way; must want to drink!
The last one was a tee-totaller (frown)
I don’t mind cutting down a bit, but think
That resentments would arise; it’d sink
The new relationship all too quickly
Smelling my breath, certain things not allowed
Let’s not set the bar too high, let’s just clink
Our glasses once or twice to love, for we
Only need love, that’s all we need (and how)
Sat 21 Mar 2009

894 - Happy alone

Tired last night, went to bed and fell asleep
Slept like a log, thank God, neighbours quiet
Valentine’s Day dawned, appointments to keep
With myself and work, no shortage of it
Started with the news, there’s no end to it
Watched a chart countdown, then football preview
Wrote fifteen pages of ‘Love At First Fright’
Then watched the football scores, as boys have to
Followed by rugby (Wales - England), then new
Songs written and recorded; been a steep
Learning curve, but getting there, bit by bit
Not bad when last month didn’t have a clue
I drank and smoked, and now to count some sheep
With Plato for my bedside reading shit!
Sat 14 Feb 2009

887 - Hard at play

Started off the day with a long lie-in
After last night’s Thai meal and heavy drink
Session, mixing beer, red wine, even gin
Though not in the same glass. Was hard to think
Or even talk towards the end; you sink
Into a vegetative state sometimes
But I ate everything that they could bring
Plate after plate went in with no problems
From my recently very painful gums
So I didn’t get up till eleven
Well-rested after my four hundred winks
Ready for all my creative attempts
First, sitcom (episode two) finishing
Then practice at music home recording
Sat 7 Feb 2009

878 - Poetry can be fun

It’s late, and I’ve had one or ten whiskies
Been to a poetry night, read some stuff
By God, it was a bit cold, felt I’d freeze
But now I’m back home, feel a bit more tough
Read two poems I wrote on the chuff chuff
That took me home from Glasgow yesterday
Not too bad, since both were quite off the cuff
One about Burns Night, one at close of day
As train sped through hills heading England way
The whiskies made me laugh, it was a wheeze
As guys read poems, stifled the odd laugh
I’ve not had much to laugh about, so hey
Why not? It’s cheaper than stand-up, and these
Nights can be fun with wordsmiths spouting guff
Thur 29 Jan 2009

858 - Thank fuck it's Friday

Friday night's here, free from wage slavery
Free to drink, free to stay up late and sh*g
Free to puke, argue, split, feel misery
Or eat more than you should from a brown bag
Hurry - curry and rice, that's nice - fat slags
Got nowt on us. Could eat that twice. What's on?
Celebrity Big Brother. It's a drag
Now that annoying...what's-her-name?... has gone
We used to go out clubbing and have fun
Before we got together. We were free
Free to drink, free to stay up late and sh*g
Except we did it more then, singletons
Yet for some reason, we still choose to be
Chained to our partners, and our desks. A fag?
Fri 9 Jan 2009

842 - Gettin' busy

Getting a lot done again, it feels good
It’s like putting more money in the bank
Although I can’t pretend I ever could
Save, but for funny memories that spank
Me when I’m lazy and content to thank
The past that passed me by in just a blink
Like hazy remnants of nights when I drank
Fragments remain, the rest pissed down the sink
Now that my head is clear, now I can think
Now I can lift my feet out from the mud
The road will soon be clear, with a full tank
Topped up with coffee or hot chocolate drink
The laughs are on me, least I hoped they would
Be. I’ll have won again, erased the blank
Wed 24 Dec 2008

835 - Song of the dark 2

Hooray! It’s nearly time to celebrate
The passing of the darkest day of all
You don’t need to spend wildly to feel great
Or pass out through imbibing alcohol
No, why not simply sit back, meditate
On how once again we survived the fall
And now our frozen fingers push the gate
Into the garden sheltered from the squall
Expecting sunlit lawns and time to wait
Joy frozen like a statue in the hall
Surreal escapism a rising trait
As light and heat fades like a parent’s call
Clinging to children, hoping they’ll placate
These chill winds, their bright cheeks smooth as a ball
Wed 17 Dec 2008