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

1015 - Dreams versus reality - round nine

A pleasant enough day at work, then… oh!
The desk melted, the computer flew off
The sun a pea, the moon a petit poi
And I Antonionio Chekhov
This dream of life is real, you can’t shake off
These visions as head falls into basket
You can’t scream or squeal, you can’t even cough
Your lungs are several feet away, dammit!
What a relief! I believe I dreamed it
Yes, welcome back, reality! I’m so
Pleased to meet you again, for dreams are tough
Far better to just sit and eat and shit
To stay low so you can’t ever feel low
Except in life’s dreams that you can’t shake off
Mon 15 June 2009

1007 - On the rocks

The big white bear balances awkwardly
On a Glacier Mint, melting, melting
He’ll need to grow fins and webbed feet quickly
So few fish, plenty of room for swimming
No shortage of water, levels rising
I shouldn’t have quit going to the pool
Or bottled out of lessons in surfing
In future, maybe kids will surf to school
But more water, more rain’s usually the rule
So life for them could be wet and windy
Enough of this, it’s far too depressing!
Environmental thinking’s rather cruel
Instead I fancy jetting to the sea
Before it ends, let’s keep on enjoying!
Sun 7 June 2009

997 - What I've got

I've got a sore throat, it's hurting me so
I thought I'd recovered a week ago
But now it's uncomfortable to swallow
It's a pain in the neck. Why won't it go?

I've got writer's block, poems will not come
I need to attend workshops, so hold some
Give me ideas, for my brain is numb
Help me write something that will raise a thumb

I've got lots of work to do, but that's good
Without work, you can get stuck in the mud
Retirement is a dirty word, you could
Find yourself bored to death, boxed up in wood

I've got to finish now and get on home
That's passed time happily, writing this poem

Thur 27 May 2009

956 - Wondering what to do

A blue pink evening sky with plane slug trail
A purple cloud floats by behind the trees
While charging the phone I talk to my girl
The day’s work done, why not do as I please
The sky is darker now, cold evening breeze
From the balcony. How to pass the time
The muse will not allow access, she flees
And I may have to bow out when this rhyme
Is done. The sun has set and I can’t climb
The slopes any more. Let the evening fail
And hope wither, I’ll get up off my knees
Turn on the TV, settle for sublime
Or ridiculous. Watch a film and sail
Away, lose all attachment and unease
Fri 17 Apr 2009

953 - Get the message

Am getting to grips with my new moby
My new moby and me are best of friends
A better camera, video and the
Latest tiny keypad that really strains
The eyes and fingers, and also disdains
To type what I'm trying to say to her
I don't know if I can really complain
Blame technology or blame my finger
For her not getting my message... Easier
Now to send, and what's more, insert smiley
Deciding what to do towards weekend
Might even take off Friday so that Thur
Evening isn't cut short, so we can be
Together longer. Message complete. Send
Tue 14 Apr 2009

921 - Blue Boar, Blue Boar, Blue Boar

Unlucky for some, like any old night
Not too bad for me, technical problems
Notwithstanding, not with directional mikes
Myself, turning my head to do my strums
On the correct fret can lead to tantrums:
‘Hey! Where’s me voice gone?’ I was prone to think
As it vanished on all those occasions
My singing, if it was, was on the blink
And even worse, confined to just one drink
Not counting soft ones. Off them due to fright
That I might screw up. Technical problems
Came back to haunt, with echoes ring-ringing
Around the Blue Boar Blue Boar Boar. Oh Christ!
But new folk came, heard and stuck up their thumbs!
Fri 13 Mar 2009

920 - The night before

A busy day organising meetings
There’s always someone unavailable
The tales they spin always contain some stings
There’s one with bells on here that you can pull
But never mind work, tomorrow is all
My own, taking it off, cleaning my car
Buying shoes at the local Salford mall
And practising my songs on the guitar
Tomorrow night is a big one, by far
The biggest test of my poor voice which sings
So rarely at home, barely capable
Of rising above whispers. I can’t Marr
This chance to play the Smiths and other things
Please please please don’t let me be miserable
Thur 12 Mar 2009

919 - Cutting it fine

I sent off my BBC comedy
Script with five minutes to spare, after an
Absorbing day at work that delayed me
In getting to the Post Office. What fun:
From the first PO I then had to run
To another one cos the first one shut
At 5.30 while the more distant one
Stayed open 15 minutes more. Well, what
A relief! Now, from that stress, I have got
Another source of stress, admittedly
Self-inflicted: Friday’s gig in Bolton
I must now practice some more till I’m hot
At playing a Smiths song, and one by me,
And also a song by Joy Division
Wed 11 Mar 2009

914 - A professional will get a professional to approach

A busy time over these next few days
On Tuesday it's a comedy deadline
Must post my script off to the Beeb, delays
Will not be accepted. And not much time
Left to put songs together so that I'm
Able to take part in the 'Not Part Of'
Arts festival in July. It's a shame
To miss these things, but it's also above
The realms of possibility to prove
That you really have anything to say
Or can perform well when you fluff your lines
As I often do, so I'll need enough
Practice to get it right, to reach that blaze
Of happiness that hasn't yet been mine
Fri 6 Mar 2009

901 - Transports of delight

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my good God
I so, so nearly missed that bus back home
Been down to London again; things seemed good
Plenty of time after the Millwall game
To reach Victoria coach station again
But at Stockwell I chose the wrong platform
Not Victoria, but a Northern Line train
Is what I hopped on to! With some alarm
I instantly knew my mistake: the harm
Done, had to stay on till Oval, but would
There be time to catch the coach, my mind groaned
Like metal wheels on metal tracks, forlorn
Ran through Victoria… Arrivals! No good!
Departures…Gate 20... Wave driver down!!!
Sat 21 Feb 2009

899 - The hills are alive

Last night I actually sang in public
And it was OK, but my voice was still
Too quiet, like bagpipes played when you're learning
But it's a new milestone, a fear I've killed
It's true, it takes courage for us to spill
Our feelings and our weaknesses like that
But it's more satisfying than to chill
In the background, in shadows, scaredy cat
Eyeing a mouse, never trying to catch
Catching mice is healthy, therapeutic
It fills your time better, provides the thrill
Of danger, achievement, new friends and that
Admittedly, to get there isn't quick
But I've a new home up there in the hills
Thur 19 Feb 2009

857 - Early days, early doors

Light lingers, brightening the evening sky
Through thick grey cloud, reviving earthbound hopes
Senses respond, stimulating mind's eye
And though things are no better, ego copes
Thoughts drift to summer outings, fancy gropes
For roots and branches halfway down the cliff
To slow the slide. Opening envelopes
Of bills and parking violations, stiff
Drink as the darkness inks the sky, a sieve
Removes the stars. Shit lingers, has to lie
On pavements, unattended; no fly creeps
On its frosty moonlike surfaces. If
Days were warmer, would they feel less lonely -
Those days of summer's scantily-clad groups?
Thur 8 Jan 2009

852 - Becoming less like God

As days zoom by at ever faster speed
Time contracts (unlike Einstein claimed it would).
With half of it gone, there’s twice as much need
To get something done before I’m fly food
Just as they suck the juice out, so my mood
Dictates imitation; I’ll drain it dry
Before evaporation can denude
This living body opportunity.
Sometimes I almost envy bird or fly
Live faster, die younger (the rocker’s creed)
Still conscious of the reaper’s shadowed hood
Behind each bush, but unlikely to cry
At some far distant end when others feed,
As they do, on the freshest flesh and blood
Sat 3 Jan 2009

833 - Snow joke

We're simply having a wonderful time
Some of us have split up with their partner
Others have lost their jobs, reason or rhyme
House prices fall like snow, ever faster
That snowman over there's a real b*st*rd
His carrot should be stuck in lower down
Where it can be seen sticking up his rear
And Santa, his gifts are wrapped in plain brown
Bags this year, and bought from 'Under a Pound'
Charity shops that pong like 'Life of Grime'
Old people can't afford to 'Light My Fire'
Let alone relight it; Take That, Boyzone
They're all back, and my shoes don't even 'Shine'
Oh yes, so much to smile about, ain't there?
Mon 15 Dec 2008

819 - December 1st, 4pm

The sky all shades of blue with purple streaks
Warm swathes of tangerine towards the coast
The dark blue behind all too quickly creeps
The brightness ahead dims like distant hopes
Look into this darkness - numberless ghosts
All scurry through black tunnels, wait in lines
Their dead white eyes betray no sign they host
Within each machine, all-controlling minds
And so we drive ourselves on, disinclined
To stop until all homes are at last reached
Comforted by the fire, shoelaces loosed
Thinking we're free as long as home's light shines
Safe in bed, visualising sunlit peaks
Giving our cold engines a timely boost
Mon 1 Dec 2008

818 - Thinking of drinking again

It seems like I can still taste last night’s beer
(Despite brushing my teeth, a lasagne
And one or two coffees) and this last year
Has also left a funny taste: a new
Experience or two’s always fun, yeah?
Well I dunno, there’s always ups and downs
Economy’s been mainly down and the
Flat remains unsold. Interest rate and pound’s
Come down to earth like me. Was lost, now found
Like some high-flying TV character
In a plane crash, being a survivor
But now I’m sussed, yeah, sorted, mate, well sound
Like some shamelessly clichéd northerner
Being so hard but crying in my beer
Sun 30 Nov 2008

817 - Quick cathartic sonnet before Never Mind The Buzzcocks

I know we all feel sorry for ourselves
But life’s too short, so sod it, let’s just smile
Besides, some people are as small as elves
And others’ arses are covered with piles
And other people still, they live in Wales
Their houses flooded, and there be dragons
My main problem is I mess with my nails
I’ll never ever be cool as The Fonz
Never mind, who gives a toss, play some songs
Drink a beer or two and enjoy yourselves
I’m not sure about wine, I think it’s vile
It makes your face go red, and then the huns
Will never fancy you! Even Elvis
Stayed at heartbreak hotel. I’ve stayed a while
Sat 29 Nov 2008

811 - Cold calculation

A wet and potentially stressful day
As all days are, although thankfully I
Am too slow to perceive just how much they
Should stress me, so I just conceive the lie
That it will be fine later, and I fly
In the face of the late November wind
Which slows me further. I know I must try
And do what the grass does in the storm, bend
And sway and even sing, and in the end
The wasteland will be green and kids will play
They won’t be scared of monster’s evil eye
Or calculating adders to offend
No matter what, we all go our own way
(Today was fine, despite that old grey sky)
Sun 23 Nov 2008

741 - No escape

It’s mid-September; the year’s running out
Even the decade’s running out of steam
Or is it me I’m really on about?
Is it me who’s becoming a has-been?
Can’t be, because I haven’t really been
Anything yet, and that’s why I can’t rest
Can’t tend a garden, contentedly lean
On my front gate, sun sinking in the west
I can’t relax, only escape at best
In the late evening, and when lights go out
Consoling visions turn drought into streams
In dreams that drown out shouts and screams, unrest
Upstairs and down, outside and inside out
That within minutes pulls me from each dream
Sun 14 Sep 2008