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Monthly Archives: March 2013

Silence came calling

In its quietish way again

And inside we were dining,

It was shortly after ten.

 

I never noticed it before

Munching, munching, feet

They never sit in silence on

Coronation street.

 

What is that guy thinking?

And are we all on drugs?

Momentary sedation

In a room that needs some rugs.

 

Who is the emperor of quiet?

Did she shut up first?

Five heads, for five little riots

Tension’s not yet burst.

 

So silence came calling

I seem to know it well

I really, really love it

If you could never tell.

 

When are we accounted for?

Don’t we have a voice?

Someone answers ‘you do,

To use it is your choice’.

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I knew of a guy

Who wanted to own the night

Street by street, yes

Light by light

The cars parked, indifferent

A familiar looking bin

He didn’t want to have

Another night in.

 

A letter might be cute

Some lovely in this world

Opposites repel

The shimmer of life’s gild

So we trade off crystal skulls,

We’re glad to ‘take the pair’

And when we try to laugh at this,

We start to lose our hair

 

At the stress of wanting serious

Or the stress of trying to impress

Now and then reminded

That these will never rest

The girl who covers the pavement

Swears she touched this land

It’s that time of the month again,

The pointless swollen gland

 

And all who own the eve,

In your way, you win

It stops you from having

Another night stuck in

Don’t leave love to chance

And don’t risk the streets

All of this we can own,

Underneath our sheets.

What is it about Spanish girls

That makes me blush and curl my toes?

Their brown skin vs. my cheeky rose

I still hold high the world of girls.

 

What’s the big deal bout’ Brazillian chicks?

Or Peruvian, Uruguay, what a lovely mix,

Life is smooth, slower time ticks

Arguing about leather and the fashion world dicks.

 

And what can I say about Kosovan boys?

Mechanics at heart, they don’t need toys

Mild not meek, so no loud noise

Salty snot is the curse of all boys.

 

Well what did I learn, ladies of England?

Living in the south you expect a clammy hand

Something aint right if she’s awfully tanned

‘I’m all dropped off’, proud she makes her stand.

 

What hasn’t been written about he, the French lad?

Fields are large but the cows are mad,

Stripy tee’s okay, but only as a fad,

For French at school I was always malade.

 

And why not end up on Italian females?

I heard a rumour that they secretly have tails

And for all the sexual pleasure that entails,

It’s a shame they aren’t actually all males.

I wake up early

So it’s a laboured day when you arrive

Other students wake

With their half-assed beards

Some roll up their sleeves…

It’s not a real days work

Thinks the long haired conductor, out dog walking

Knock

Knock, knock.

 

The postman is late again,

My inbox is empty and then

My street starts to shimmer

Big step. Big step. He wants to get thinner

Silly to think it was you

The yolky sky is infected by blue,

Tumbling in a causal pattern,

Something something something happen.

 

When you’re in pain

You want to tell the whole world

But I’m still here

Like the queen is still there

Like the author’s in the book

And your smile is in the chords.

 

And though I imagined a little memory

I have the capacity for self-reflection (really)

So the postman looks at me

And see’s every other student in this town

Every other Gen X-X

I might as well do a real days work

And ignore the pain

Till I remember you again

Knock

Knock, knock, knock.

Ideas

Ideas are what I need, I thought

Take a walk around the block

See what sainsburys has in stock

Fog approached

 

I was worrying, again

About the imposing North Korean nuclear threat

Making the last of my happy

Bombarding my sentiments

To observers in the shadows

And into space

Bringing those who’re washing up for the third time that day

A moments recollection.

 

Then, I was mugged

Just because it was foggy.

In the moment, I comprehended

The absolute uselessness of the £1 coin.

My ego’s health took a cancerous blow in one,

Right by the halal butchers.

 

Cards declined, worries redefined,

No memories were helping me now

Nothing was

It was the point, in a way.

Just distantly, the sound of a potato waffle child coughing through a window,

Flu’s second attack of the year

Susceptible as I, to the blows on health.

 

Card declined, my card was declined

The fog was here

 

Ego acted: too kind

It pulled me back

I must’ve made it back, to write it all down

A better than average night, I had

An ego full of ideas

And a fools pound coin.

Couples, couples

All around

Couples, couples

On the ground

In the treetops, in the clouds

Side by side, standing proud

 

The couple in front

Brown and beard

Try and overtake

Think I’m weird

I need to rush quicker than you

Who found your soul, and likes it too.

 

Police officer

And her old dad

Her old dad

Sometimes got mad,

 

Shopkeepers business

Waiting to start

Couple by window,

Getting dark.

 

Couples, couples

Everywhere

They don’t want me breathing their air

Careful, you begin to stare,

Starts with the shoes

And then the hair.

 

Drowned by two

And three, and more

Don’t you think

I keep a score

If they dig up my remains

Keep close

My couple of brains.