they say a poet's ego is only as big as his audience - well, I have to
admit, your reading this stuff brings me out in goosepimples...
WITHOUT YOU
Now you're gone It's no longer tea for two Without you
It's just a half empty kettle Wildly whistling heavy metal For the not so good night cuppa To wash down that not so super supper Of a lonely little fish on a dried up piece of bread God the memories of you linger inside my head But not inside my bed
Now you're no longer there to play Sleep's just an empty ritual At the end of an empty day
And the last night DJ really turns the screw As every song he plays Reminds me of you And the late night news At two ... Three ... Four ... Goes on and on about the war But hey! There'll be no fight here tonight Maybe the one consolation But there'll be no laughter after It's a desperate situation
Was there romance In that eye-catch-eye glance With the mahogany princess Poised perfectly behind the plastic table opposite?
And what eyes Deep, dark pools of primal lust Quick peep, cool, no fuss I savage into my burger Which, with a deafening spurt Shoots its load of ketchup Right down my shirt
Cracking with shame I consider falling at her feet A bloody sacrifice But one step forward I stop myself By breaking into a cough And set about wiping the ketchup off
Till, with bent coughing motion And the wiping of the napkin I suddenly realise It looks like I'm wanking
I throw my hands in the air Hoping she didn't see Pulling them down As she looks up from her book on Electricity Our eyes meet Nuclear fussion at room temperature
Napoleonically I cover the stain Tossing the offeding burger back into its box Tutting at its ozone unfriendliness And reach for my milk with a shake
Underestimating the power it takes to drink It pulls my James Daen pout in, out in And erupts in a massive millky fart Blowing a cancerous seseme seed off the end of my nose To the delight of two young Americans Trying to woo two girls from Isaan With denim, DVD speak Just as their dads may once have done With talk of foreign exchange
She sees me frown, The frown turns to a smile A winning smile - pulls her to her feet An ecstatic smile - we're about to meet A tender smile - a love that's made to last A stupid smile - she walks right past
FLASHBACK August 1997: The shocking death
of Lady Diana had a profound effect on people all around the world.
Watching the story unfold on cable news my family were struck by the
outpouring of grief. I flashed a couple of seconds of sentiment myself,
with an ode written in Thai, to explain the depth of the despair.
Here's the karaoke version:
Flashback 1989: It's not often that one actually lives through history. This poem was written while I was living in the artists' ghetto of the Deptford Housing Association at a time when everything seemed possible, apart from maybe a move to more decent accommodation. The symbol of division - The Berlin Wall - was coming down. As I watched the BBC news report I couldn't help but think of the Pink Floyd song "All in all you're just another prick on the wall". With the benefit of hinesight, it appears my early cynicism was not unfounded ...
TEAR DOWN THE WALL
Spent Saturday afternoon watching On The Ball When a bloody great bulldozer crashed through my wall Sat bemused in the cab of the JCB Was a lost, oh so very lost, East German refugee
"Entshuldigen Bitte, West Berlin?" I told him the worst, but invited him in Come in old mate, pull up a brick I'll tell you about democracy, it's enough to make you
"Nein, too politikal, hast du football?" So I took him down the Den to see Millwall I could tell by his face he wasn't that impressed With his first experience of the West
We got home just in time to catch Cilla's Blind Date A classic example of the programmes from our state Then he dressed himself in my Levi jeans And played on my Space Invader machine
Then to the station to catch the train to town And being British Rail we had to wait around And around, and around Till finally, at last, we arrived at the sights The girls throwing up, the boys in fights
He nearly dropped down dead Well, he turned quite pale When the barman told him the price of the ale But the final straw on the German camel's back Was when he fell victim To a drunken Big Mac attack
He was sick all night Went home the next day To have a bath, wash his hair For work on Monday When I asked him what he thought of our Western tombolo He groaned "Zer is more to freedom zan fast food and Coca Cola"
