1053 - Extended childhood

My life feels like an extended childhood
That’s now almost a half-century long
Tenacious innocence, belief in good
And that there’ll soon be an end to what’s wrong
A silly sense of humour, love of song
Some things have changed, it’s true; I eat less sweets
I’ve more experience since I’ve moved among
Adults, disguised as one of them; my feats
Have really been quite something, and my treats
The best times, something else, and sometimes rude
My very own musical, and I’ve sung
The lead role (rather badly) all these nights
My acting skills resemble that of wood
And audience reactions often stung
Thur 23 July 2009

1037 - Fighting for breath

So here I am, late Tuesday night, fulfilled
I’ve gone to work, come home and played music
A good chat with Andy, with some beers swilled
This must be better than being fast stuck
In domesticity; there’s something sick
When individuality’s suppressed
When dreams are repressed by somebody’s thick
Obedience to society, that pest
That adds to nine to five’s slavery, worst
Of all when it extends its many ills
To our free time; that really takes the mick…
If I am allowed one final request
It’s that, before I croak, my life is filled
With doing what I want. Yes - that’s the trick!
Tue 7 July 2009

1020 - Flimsy whimsy

We drive along and we try not to crash
Though there are so many others to hit
We hide behind the beard and moustache
Of friendliness, like Santa the Misfit
Into my thoughts you still do sometimes flit
Perhaps I should keep myself busier
But wait, I work all day and work all night
The weekend’s the hardest of all, for sure
Like overpriced footballers, we can’t score
Any more and we don’t enjoy the clash
Of limbs and swords and shields, or losing it
Write poetry, accepting we are poor
Join groups, meet new people, go on a march
To save Iraq, Iran, maybe Tibet
Sat 20 June 2009

1010 - Here we go round the mulberry bush

The women that I’ve known are like the men:
Just people I bumped into; well, that’s true
Of all things in the universe from when
The Big Bang banged to today; chance just threw
Them together for no reason, like two
Neighbouring grains of sand on a big beach
That after a while will move on when you
Or your dog kick them apart, or they’re reached
By the incoming tide. Let nature teach
Its lessons. Go with the flow; maybe then
There’ll be less stress. Drift on into the blue
On this speck, spinning like dust round a torch
Complete each orbit, then go round again
With someone else, for anyone will do
Wed 10 June 2009

1000 - Land of a thousand sonnets

This is the land of a thousand sonnets
Okay, some are crap, but nobody knows…
It’s all relative; who’s to say that it’s
Good or bad? Subjective terms fell and rose
So only I decide what comes and goes
Sometimes I rhyme what’s in the news; others
What’s in my life, or out of it; the throes
Of death began suckling mother’s
Bottled milk teats, so these treats of short verse
Are designed to encapsulate the shits
That come my way, and the infrequent rose,
Sweet-smelling, between the cradle and hearse
I’m sounding like a pupil of Beckett’s
Without the claps, but with all the same woes
Sun 31 May 2009

981 - Through the office window

Perfect blue sky, or perfect nothingness
Pretty green trees wave goodbye, short-lived man
A spire points up into the blue: confess
Your sins, or sizzle in the frying-pan!
Happy in the moment, kids whoop and run
Let out of nursery for some fresh air
Happy that adults carry their burden
Of their own future burdens, unaware
Traffic, in ant-like lines, crawls off somewhere
This mortal snapshot, its lifespan far less
Than photos, paintings or images on
The internet, is preserved here with care
Sharing this feature with Shakespeare's sonnets
Outliving the source from where it began
Tue 12 May 2009

963 - Still playing the game

963, if you put a 1 in front
Was the year of my birth. Is that so bad?
It’s a long time ago, that’s true, I can’t
Deny it, but I’ve lived all that time, had
A long innings already, bat and pad
I’ve hit the ball a few times, missed others
But to be called up at all makes me glad
Thank you, team captain, oh my captain, yes
Once alive, grown up, sheltered, fed, success
Then becomes our obsession, and the hunt
For love, which alone stops us being sad
And empty, even if we’ve got the rest
963rd sonnet, want
To know if I’ve found the grail, full of blood
Fri 24 Apr 2009

961 - Work, poetry and life itself

Back home, like England World Cup Squad ’70
I ponder all the things that are not right
But there are so many, yes, too many
Nevertheless we see life through till night
In Newcastle things seemed to go alright
Potentially fraught meeting went quite well
Keeping control of babblers is the height
Of chairmanship in meetings; how to tell
Them: Stick to the agenda! Need a bell
Or gong to shut them up. But good to see
Difficult subjects dealt with in a light-
Hearted way. But I still have to deal
With life itself, and that is less easy
Than work or poetry. Life is our plight
Wed 22 Apr 2009

889 - After flying over the Irish Sea at sunset

I’m in the Crown Liquor Saloon, Belfast
And staying at the famous Europa
I flew over fluffy white clouds so fast
And saw the western horizon redder
And clearer than billions of ancestors
Who never flew, and couldn’t even think
This lofty view existed long before
Life had evolved from mere scum in the sink
Of oceans now gone; no, where is the link
Between view and viewer? The need is past!
Living viewer, superfluous once more
These red sunsets do not need me to bring
My blinking assent to a view that lasts
Beauty does not need life or mind. It’s there…
Mon 9 Feb 2009

850 - Happy New Year

The fireworks break the silence and the dark
Of blackest midnight’s momentary grip
The past strangled, the new year makes its mark
It wipes its fratricidal hands and slips
Into the driver’s seat. Another trip
Into the unknown, please. You know the drill:
Yes, let’s have lots of scary turns and dips
And on the journey, we’ll count those you kill
With foot full down and hands spinning the wheel
Unless we’re thrown or you suddenly park
By some icy roadside and then you flip
Around, arm on the seat top, smile, reveal
A hideous bony face like ours, so stark
‘Here is your future,’ spoken without lips
Thur 1 Jan 2009

849 - Not looking back or forward

A mainly cold, dark, wet, depressing year
Is dying at last. Die, you cur, die, die!
I am talking about the weather, here
What else? Well I’m an Englishman, aren’t I?
Newspaper article prints some new lie
About how next summer will be all sun
To go with all the other crap you buy
If you waste money ever buying one
Well this past year has been both shit and fun
The cherry bowl has a hint of manure
But without shit the fruit wouldn’t grow high
It’s nature’s way, the way it’s always done
So next year won’t be better. Also, fear
The reaper: twelve more months for him to try!
Wed 31 Dec 2008

725 - Feed the world, part thirty-three

Where do we go from here? What’s the next move?
Is socialism dead, too expensive?
We all know life is cheap, and that’s the truth
Money falls through it rather like a sieve
No, we don’t want to pay for them to live
Let them all die if they can’t feed themselves
Let babies cry as flies crawl, spiders weave
On faces in poor places; help ourselves
To cheap food from their land upon our shelves
And if it costs too much, we shall remove
The party we elected, though we give
A penny here and there out of our wealth
We’re good Samaritans, and there’s the proof
But there’s only so much that we can give
Fri 29 Aug 2008

695 - Nice and easy does it

The way to enjoy life’s to live for now
Live in the present, value what you’ve got
Make the best of your job, don’t crease your brow
Wishing you earned more, wishing it was hot
Relax and smile, don’t go chasing some pot
That doesn’t exist at the rainbow’s end
Peer pressure or consumer envy’s not
The key to happiness, the perfect blend
Do what you like and the adverts they send
For this and that will fade; the holy cow
Of competition is a rich man’s plot
We can all opt out of, and round the bend
The rat race disappears, and we can slow
To walking pace, see beauty in each spot
Wed 30 July 2008

692 - Schopenhauering

Read Schopenhauer while I was waiting
Intelligence just leads to suffering
Because we dwell on setbacks, all hoping
For better times, but life’s disappointing
Even when goals are reached, the joy’s fleeting
And as time marches on, health’s declining
Instead of living now, we’re just counting
The days and years down to the grim ending
While plants and animals are existing
Unconscious of their end or beginning
So that’s why the dolphin’s always grinning
If life was all pleasure, and pain missing
We’d need to hurt, to kill, to do something
To spice up dull existence, so boring
Sun 27 July 2008

689 - Fairground distraction

Refreshed by a cuppa after my wine
A change of MP3 selection too
Sat by the Trent in Newark, weather fine
These small delights perk us up, clean the view
Like windscreen wipers doing what they do
Except when they squeak; then they’re annoying
And my tea’s turned into an ambient brew
And all the new songs are too hard rocking
And no guarantee of this sun lasting
The pendulum swings both ways; we incline
With it, half-full, half-empty, never to
Know stillness till the big clock stops ticking
So grease the roller coaster one more time
And hold tight as the world spins around you
Thur 24 July 2008

683 - Fertile soil

I wonder whether feelings or a numb
Mere vegetable existence is best
A fish doesn’t fear the whale’s mouth that comes
Like the Grand Canyon to a faller’s rest
And does it matter once you pass the test
And spawn as you were meant? And anyway
Whether you do or don’t you’re just a guest
A machine with your plug pulled out one day
A seed that lands, takes root, is pulled away
Prematurely by hands of fate, the thumb
Down pointing to the soil that teems restless
A billion brown jaws await their payday
Denied for now, but patient and then some
Brainless, painless, and by us, unimpressed
Fri 18 July 2008

650 - Father's Day

It's Father's Day and farther from when they
First fought their way through watery tunnel
Finally caught head first feet last to say
Cough cough wah wah when slapped and wrapped in towel
Off to be weighed then the new made bundle
Is offered right away to dad to hold
That awful fright to think I might fumble
Or stumble then humble and glad. Arms fold
Under this wonder our two forms foretold
When they formed into one and thunder lay
With forked lightning electric storm cuddle
Connecting sudden showers of pure gold
This resurrecting power is today
Respected re-erected tearful
Sun 15 June 2008

640 - Attack at dawn

The morning light, and the first light of birth
Are they the inviting arms of a friend
Or the invading arms of Big Bertha
Firing her shells straight at our eyes; the end
Of all resistance. Curtains can’t defend
Against their speed and distance. Like trumpets
That call us on the day of doom, portend
Hell’s darkness falling soon, each sunray hits
The nerves like cannonballs hit walls, and its
Curtains for Fort Utopia, murder
Of innocent and not-so-innocent
The screams ring out as dreams are smashed to bits
And now our plight’s revealed, is it still worth
Our fighting on, or must we surrender?
Thur 5 June 2008

638 - One green bottle

I put down shopping bag to open door
And - quelle surprise! - the glass bottles topple
And crash against the unforgiving floor
Thank God there is no wine or beer puddle
Narrow escape again. It’s no riddle
Really, certainly no conspiracy
So why does my mind still grind and grapple
With forces that are imaginary
And all seem to be lined up against me?
Survival instinct kicking in? Though flawed
It keeps me on my toes, makes me brittle
The bottle is my soul, its expiry
Glimpsed as when lost at night-time on the moor
Or leaning over cliff edge, I stumble
Tue 3 June 2008

637 - Womb with a view

The pain of life climbs upward in a line
At forty-five degrees from left to right
Before conception everything is fine
Millennia make up one long peaceful night
That’s bare of nightmares, reality’s bite
Then some dick thinks with his, the jizz meets egg
And all that jazz; addicted to the fight
The hybrid parasite kicks out with leg
But when womb’s closing time is reached will beg
To stay dependent, waited on full-time
Sirens of prison, syringe, lines of white
Pickled liver, retiring to a dreg
Of mankind, call out: come to us, rewind
Retreat, relax behind the lines, that’s right
Mon 2 June 2008