I’m pulling at the skin on my thumb’s side
It’s nice to destroy things and self-abuse
Much easier than building up my pride
Much easier than winning. Why not lose?
Distractions, reveries are what we choose
Life’s painless if you aim less high, a slow
And pleasant suicide, room with no views
Except grey sky, on tenth floor; needles go
Straight to the point (Lou Reed’ll tell you so)
Cover your face with veil again, sad bride
For shame that you can’t be a genius
Your name unknown even at home, and no
Direction to roll in but stone. We tried
Now we’re sliding into time’s tightening noose
Sun 28 Sep 2008
Sunday, 27 March 2011
754 - Anthology
Reading successful poets’ self-pity -
But then they don’t make much - but if they did
As poets they’d still see skulls and debris -
It spurs me to emulate, lift my lid
Revealing wasp-infested stuff that’s hid
But it’s no different, apart from the art
A vase is a vase, a verse a verse. Bid
For one versus another and then part
With cash, but not much. Say thanks and depart
For they aren’t interested either in me
They teach subservience at schools - extra quid -
Belief systems and false gods that the smart
Materialist must ingest outwardly
Now fashion your passion as instructed
Sat 27 Sep 2008
But then they don’t make much - but if they did
As poets they’d still see skulls and debris -
It spurs me to emulate, lift my lid
Revealing wasp-infested stuff that’s hid
But it’s no different, apart from the art
A vase is a vase, a verse a verse. Bid
For one versus another and then part
With cash, but not much. Say thanks and depart
For they aren’t interested either in me
They teach subservience at schools - extra quid -
Belief systems and false gods that the smart
Materialist must ingest outwardly
Now fashion your passion as instructed
Sat 27 Sep 2008
753 - Banana on desk
On this autumnal blue-sky afternoon
Reclining languidly upon the wood
A yellow-skinned beauty freckled with brown
Is bending my mind far more than it should
From thoughts of work to thoughts of flesh and blood
Thick skin enclosing hidden soft centre
Ripe and inviting, ready for the hood
To be peeled away and revealed, later
Turning to mush at my biting, under
Tongue's turning and churning, all broken down
Liquefied and consumed and left for dead
All that's left is its hollow container
The magic gone, fit only to be thrown
Away with the rubbish, trod in the mud
Fri 26 Sep 2008
Reclining languidly upon the wood
A yellow-skinned beauty freckled with brown
Is bending my mind far more than it should
From thoughts of work to thoughts of flesh and blood
Thick skin enclosing hidden soft centre
Ripe and inviting, ready for the hood
To be peeled away and revealed, later
Turning to mush at my biting, under
Tongue's turning and churning, all broken down
Liquefied and consumed and left for dead
All that's left is its hollow container
The magic gone, fit only to be thrown
Away with the rubbish, trod in the mud
Fri 26 Sep 2008
752 - Rush hour colours
Sat here in my office room with a view
Approaching the end of the working day
A train pulls into Salford, purple, blue
On the green bridge above Trinity Way
Now here's another; rush hour's under way
Under the bridge. The cars line up at lights,
Then race off like athletes when red gives way
To green; grey cars, black cars, vans (usually whites)
A big white van with small square windows waits
On red, taking its captive from court to
The red bricks of Strangeways for one more day
Or year, or two: endless blue days and nights
Man in grey suit with umbrella tries to
Find his car in the car park, and it's grey
Thur 25 Sep 2008
Approaching the end of the working day
A train pulls into Salford, purple, blue
On the green bridge above Trinity Way
Now here's another; rush hour's under way
Under the bridge. The cars line up at lights,
Then race off like athletes when red gives way
To green; grey cars, black cars, vans (usually whites)
A big white van with small square windows waits
On red, taking its captive from court to
The red bricks of Strangeways for one more day
Or year, or two: endless blue days and nights
Man in grey suit with umbrella tries to
Find his car in the car park, and it's grey
Thur 25 Sep 2008
751 - Late night reflection
It’s been a long day’s journey into night
And now, back home again, all on my own
But that’s okay, no really, it’s all right
I’m not upset about being alone
A long time ago my few seeds were sown
And now they fall on stony ground, but then
What’s the alternative? What has life shown
But that I will end up alone again
The difference between then and now is plain
I know all there is to know, and it’s quite
All right to ally myself with that stone
To blend deeply with it like other men
Who’ve travelled through this darkness into light
And paid back whatever they bought on loan
Wed 24 Sep 2008
And now, back home again, all on my own
But that’s okay, no really, it’s all right
I’m not upset about being alone
A long time ago my few seeds were sown
And now they fall on stony ground, but then
What’s the alternative? What has life shown
But that I will end up alone again
The difference between then and now is plain
I know all there is to know, and it’s quite
All right to ally myself with that stone
To blend deeply with it like other men
Who’ve travelled through this darkness into light
And paid back whatever they bought on loan
Wed 24 Sep 2008
750 - Fishmouth tries to escape the net
Fishmouth has given his big conference speech
As usual, it’s all about him, not us
A man with such big ears should listen. Preach
On, like your father, but it’s not Jesus
Who cares, it’s you, Gordon. Why all the fuss
About fairness? Blair harnessed Thatcher’s views
The market, or is it the jungle, must
Rule, brutal, efficient. Gordon has used
This anti-social creed to feed the queues
Of bleeding souls too visceral to teach
All victims of capital’s world success
Free trade guarantees low wages; pursues
Unstoppable across borders and beach
Caught in his own net, Fishmouth flops, hopeless
Tue 23 Sep 2008
As usual, it’s all about him, not us
A man with such big ears should listen. Preach
On, like your father, but it’s not Jesus
Who cares, it’s you, Gordon. Why all the fuss
About fairness? Blair harnessed Thatcher’s views
The market, or is it the jungle, must
Rule, brutal, efficient. Gordon has used
This anti-social creed to feed the queues
Of bleeding souls too visceral to teach
All victims of capital’s world success
Free trade guarantees low wages; pursues
Unstoppable across borders and beach
Caught in his own net, Fishmouth flops, hopeless
Tue 23 Sep 2008
749 - Are you havin' a laugh?
I’m running out of time, started too late
Isn’t that just so typical of me?
And yet, apparently, this is a trait
Of successful writers of comedy
Which - this month - is what I would like to be…
With today’s Guardian there was a leaflet
On ‘How to write comedy.’ Quite clearly
A hard thing to teach. I tend to forget
All jokes and stories, and am slow to get
My own lines off by heart. Thought I’d be great
At stand-up!?! - it was big in the 90s -
But gave up. Looking back there’s no regret
I can’t perform but can write. On with skates!
Script must reach them by September 30
Mon 22 Sep 2008
Isn’t that just so typical of me?
And yet, apparently, this is a trait
Of successful writers of comedy
Which - this month - is what I would like to be…
With today’s Guardian there was a leaflet
On ‘How to write comedy.’ Quite clearly
A hard thing to teach. I tend to forget
All jokes and stories, and am slow to get
My own lines off by heart. Thought I’d be great
At stand-up!?! - it was big in the 90s -
But gave up. Looking back there’s no regret
I can’t perform but can write. On with skates!
Script must reach them by September 30
Mon 22 Sep 2008
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