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

994 - The death of romance (again)

Weather Report are playing in my flat
And flat is how things look now: sky is grey
What a contrast with the warm sunshine that
Greeted us when we met earlier today
We went to Yorkshire, the Halifax way
Turned back to Hebden Bridge and wandered round
I bought stuff as usual, gave cash away
But nice things for the flat were what I found
Along with freedom. She also cooled down
Like today’s weather, she started off hot
Now we both want to explore separate ways
I’m pleased it ended quietly, no sound
Of arguing in the car, no spits or spats
Romance is dead, but freedom wins the day!
Mon 25 May 2009

979 - Crazy Sunday

A lovely day, though cloud-covered and wet
Caught up on sleep, radio playing low
Cleaned that big dusty carpet in my flat
Swept floors, then phoned my girl. Now, where to go?
She drove north on the ring road, till below
We saw the hills near Bury, and turned off
Ramsbottom was the destination; though
It rained, we shopped, we had some food, we laughed
She always finds antique shops, likes old stuff
Then J came back to my newly-cleaned flat
It was nice to be together once more
Off she went in her car: bye-bye, my love!
Then visited two friends, two pleasant chats
Now home again, work looms once more. Oh no!
Sun 10 May 2009

965 - Messing about on or near the river

I drifted on the waves of sleep till nine
Or half-past, at half-mast my wakefulness
Landlubber scrubbing floors to make them shine
Removing mould from black-stained walls, real mess
Flat sparkles like a yacht off Shoeburyness
Flat anchored near the banks of the Irwell
Except when earthquakes strike, no seasickness
But when they do strike like storms, who can tell?
Drove out to Lymm later, clanging church bell
Calls drowners to be saved, throws out a line
Canal barges bob gently, free from stress
Crossed and recrossed the Mersey by car, sailed
Through Partington, Carrington, Sale, to wind
Our mast down in the garden’s peacefulness
Sun 26 Apr 2009

932 - Computing, not commuting

The joys of living close to work are these:
Taking an hour to wake up, radio
So slowly drifting into consciousness
When outside showers drip, no need to go
Just yet, get wet in my own shower, slow
And warm, spring fragrance from a factory
Brings soaked-in sunshine from head to my toe
Shaving appliance blunt, there’s no worry
Have time to replace blade, and watch TV
Stroll into work, stroll home, still early, keys
And shopping in my hand, it’s grand to know
So much time left, still so much energy
To write and play, still light outside; now seize
The remains of the day. Makes sense, you know!
Tue 24 Mar 2009

885 - Desktop audit

What’s on my desk at home this cold evening?
My laptop, of course; it’s front and central
(I’d get a bad back typing and sitting
On the sofa); from it snakes a cable
Or three; a thin white microphone that’s all
Ready to be sung into; reluctant
To sing tonight. I am tired, I am ill
Or scared, maybe? I’m not sure what I want.
Camera and telephone in the distant
Left corner. On the right side, two writing-
Related books, with their disposable
Advice and two years of dust, dominant
But ignored, piles of CDs covering
Once promising, past sell-by date titles
Thur 5 Feb 2009

871 - Special request

The flat is quiet and so lonely tonight
No sound of music, TV, radio
No smiles, fingers, soft flesh to set alight
These smouldering embers from five days ago
When I last saw you, when we felt the glow
Now you are a receding star, too dark
To pick out from the cluster. Do you know
My future’s in your palm, and needs to talk
To me? Would I suit you? This is hard work
Getting you off my mind so I can write
Especially with that laughter from below
Even a strummed guitar now from the Turks
They’ve heard me play, perhaps they thought they might
Give it a go. Why not give it a go?
Thur 22 Jan 2009

847 - Mid-afternoon pause for breath

I went and bought some curtains and a rug
Took down the purple ones, put up some black
The beige rug makes the spare bedroom more snug
The curtains are dark but let in a crack
Of light here and there. I think I’ll go back
And get some bigger ones, next month, maybe,
Then put these in the spare room. Next, a track
Or two of music hopefully will be
Recorded by me here in the flat, the
Bare bones of some new songs might well be dug
Here comes the seventies revival, Mac
But with a modern twist, naturally
But before I begin, I’ll grab a mug
Of coffee (I’ve already had a snack)
Mon 29 Dec 2008

826 - Loss of focus

My mind has gone from where it's s'posed to be
Getting somewhere with writing or music
To wanting a partner to be with me
Even though this doesn't display logic
To afford her I need a lodger, quick
And how will someone else in the flat feel
If I bring a girl round? They might not stick
Around for long, which would be a poor deal
For my financial recovery; well
Things are shaping up quite interestingly
Ten years since I had a lodger. The kick
Of having a new girlfriend has appeal
I can't deny. But first, find her! Easy
I'm hoping that the Net will do that trick
Mon 8 Dec 2008

820 - Walking away from the fairy lights

Snowfall. God thinks it’s already Christmas
In truth, I wish Christmas would come and go
But I’ll be sad to see the old year pass
Another year melting just like the snow
Tread carefully on your dreamy way; so
Easy to slip. God knows I’ve ended flat
A couple of times, but it seems as though
I brush off the slush and then that is that.
Snowflakes or hailstones on umbrella. Rat
Tat tat. I’m sheltered, all is well. I cast
My flaky sight into night. Chill wind blows
Till hands and nose grow numb. Suppose when sat
Back home in the flat, with a harmless glass
Of milk, I’ll chill out, then hug the pillow
Tue 2 Dec 2008

810 - Blues in A flat (take 2)

I’m here all alone in this flat, the cold
Keeps rushing in when I put rubbish out
Into the balcony bin, and I sold
My soul to the tobacco king about
This time last night, smoked some shivering out-
Side the small theatre. Now there’s three smokes left
But not much else. Feel too cold to check out
The show at the Lowry tonight. What’s left
To do, since there is no-one here? A swift
Departure once more leaves no-one to hold
But my true love. I’ll get some records out
And play my pink guitar, and still have left
Enough energy to suffer the cold
Tomorrow, when I’ll be out and about
Sat 22 Nov 2008

718 - Edible meditation

I’m tired, can’t think straight, can’t even drink straight
Thank goodness it’s Bank Holiday weekend
Will take it easy, dinner on my plate
Sat on the sofa, the TV my friend
Might play some music, give the strings a bend
Or tap the keys along to my CDs
I’ve got some DVDs the library lent
The opera ‘Peter Grimes’ is one of these
You see, I only slept five hours, so please
Don’t expect any poetry that’s great
My imagination cannot extend
Beyond deciding to eat fish and peas
Or maybe chicken burgers…Mmm, can’t wait
Until my kitchen café has opened
Fri 22 Aug 2008

686 - A flatful of dust

My sunlit screen’s all obscured by bright dust
Like blinding snowflakes frozen in mid-fall
The sun moves westwards as it always must
And now I’m finding that I can see all
As shadows mount the white screen and white wall
Goodbye sun, you’re no friend to thought process
You bring too much reality; you crawl
Into each dirty corner, dark recess
Training a spotlight on each filthy mess
Spilt food that’s hardened into yellow crust
In kitchen. Look at the floor in the hall
Such biodiversity. I’m impressed
Victorian-style cleaning maids, please just
Line up outside until you hear me call
Mon 21 July 2008

684 - Good day

I feel great, top of the world mama, yeah
This life can be good if you are selfish
Have had a really nice day; went to a
Chinese buffet with friends and filled my dish
And since then did some ironing, got pissed
And played electric guitar and keyboard
Undertones, Sweet, Sparks, Sabbath, Jim Webb. Missed
The chance to play much Brel; couldn’t afford
To risk playing after eleven, sword
Of Damocles stuff if you do that. The
Rules state you must be quiet then. I wish
I was in a detached house; then I could
Do what I like and play on. But, whinger
You can watch a DVD if you wish…
Sat 19 July 2008

664 - Rain in the arse

My clothes on radiators, window mist
The rain we hate but need spoils selfish fun
The floor a magnet for dirt, hair, food, dust
No wonder the flat sale’s gone flat; no-one
Wants that. Plates placed for lunch at half-past one
By her below. It’s not just me then, in
A gloomy box. This room of socks all hung
In to dry, before I get wet walking
To work in them next week. My poor leaking
Umbrella, I miss you. Since you were lost
Last week on that pub floor, I’ve been pissed on
Persistently, tubfuls poured, kitchen sinks
Cats, dogs keep falling on my head. Hood fixed
On my new black anorak - bring it on!
Sun 29 June 2008

656 - Estate agent blues in A flat

I can’t sell my flat, you can’t sell your house
Still stuck in Salford. That might sound like hell
To some maybe, but not me, coz I’m close
To my workplace. No, can’t afford petrol
These days, can we? So I did very well
To buy that flat, the one that I can’t sell
But the plan’s still to sell, and yours as well
And buy together a detached house. All
Well and good as a plan except the hell
Of driving into Manchester with those
Unfortunate others, all nose to tail
All paying the congestion charge as well
No, I can’t sell my flat but I suppose
I’ll save money each month that I don’t sell
Sat 21 June 2008

569 - Flat broke (don't fix it)

Wednesday's bin-emptying day at the flats
When Phil the caretaker wheels all the bins
To the main gate. Binmen pull up in that
Smelly red lorry of theirs (cos within's
All sorts of disgusting stuff, like old tins
All caked in slime). I feel sorry for Phil
Having to do that to earn dough. These things
Have to be done, though, cos dirt and germs kill.
They're also cutting branches off trees till
They no longer overhang footpaths. What's
The worry? Heads at risk from bird droppings?
No, just routine site maintenance, says Phil.
A day in the death of the Salford flats
Off Regent Road, near Sainsbury's and Maplins.
Wed 26 Mar 2008

563 - Treeless in Salford

They’ve chopped down two of the trees just outside
My flat, one at the front, one at the back.
Now it feels like they can all see inside
My flat, the folk at front, the folk at back.
I’d better dress well, not wear some old sack
When wandering aimlessly round the flat,
And I must make sure that I never lack
Clean underwear when I’m around the flat.
They hear everything, now they see all that
Goes on when my curtains are open wide.
They see it from the front and from the back,
Welcome, neighbours one and all, to my flat.
They’ve chopped down two of the trees just outside
My flat, one at the front, one at the back.
Thur 20 Mar 2008

545 - Sunday No Funday

Some storm-tossed days as winter’s weary wind
Now staggers to its final parting breath.
I watch the trees outside my window bend,
Their lively motion mocking rooftops’ death.
Beer bottles in the bin, their phantom froth
Bubbles of yesterday, pissed away, gone,
Along with last night’s smoky haze. They’re both
Killed off by Sunday scrubbing, door open,
A shower taken, shaved, the fun is done.
But wait! It’s Mother’s Day! To shops, to find
Flowers cut down at the peak of their growth,
Fleeting colours, bright beauty born of sun.
Will I have time to learn my lines, my mind
Distracted? But tonight’s gig comes by stealth.
Sun 2 Mar 2008

457 - Leaving leaves

I’m looking out of my window. Between
The two tall evergreens, I can see, through
Deciduous branches where leaves have been
And gone, a distant tree gracing the view,
Majestically filling space. Thank you,
My noble chap, my cheerful friendly fellow
Behind the green and brown foreground. Below
The grey Salford sky, your distinctive yellow
Has coloured in my morning. I could wallow
In your mystical distance, golden sheen
Suddenly lit by sunburst for a few
Seconds (almost missed while typing). The shallow
Concerns of life mean I must leave, though keen
To watch your short-lived show. I hear my cue.
Wed 5 Dec 2007