Bored with work ‘cause there’s too much to do
Wasting my time instead listening to music
Writing words to fill my head
Filling my soul with the takers of pain
Drinking some smoking then writing again
To scribble again
Slow music better than no music
Quiet music better than loud
Hot tunes hold my mind in line
This night goes so slow – so unkind
The shakes once again start me shaking
It’s the fault of quick thinking whilst sitting
The tongues through my head
Keep me waking
Drastic action has me waiting
So long that eyes close under eyelids
Strange thoughts prop my psyche
Weird music and thinking
Sad slow – stoppage drinking
to just over the brink!
A return to attempting to find my poetic voice. We have come to the end of a string of Beck’ Beat Poetry events, which have been a series of fantastical occasions! Enabling me and others to meet and hear top-class poets from across south London (and Hackney)!
Memory dances teasingly out of reach.
Again my mind provides the butt
Of a joke – so elusive
That even humour loses its rasping
Chuckle, when confronted by this plight.
This cowering wreck.
Through a diet of sarcasm
Disrespect and the masochistic audacity
To try this absurd play out again and again and
Until knackered –
Visibly shaken –
Memory leaves completely!
On its swift way out!
The marvellous mendicant mothers of Mope
worry about weaning their kids off dope.
Haplessly harried they hardly hold hope
of finding an answer that isn’t looped rope!
Round here the rising sun breaks slow the cloud
which builds through the night
– from the fags dark allows,
yet, none of Mopes mistresses notice,
that newly a day is born
– sweet, fresh and proud.
Surely some sapient soul serves to sate
the confusion of questions one’s sure to negate,
in diurnal dialogue done direct and to date…
or so you’d suppose, in most all other states.
Here though, in Mope, the mothers are clear:
we’ll have no free thinking ta! None of that here!
Perish the thought of fresh views or ideas
and hold your big books from coming too near!
The plan goes so simple (it has to it’s true) –
the brideless of Mope know all that they do;
that learning from lessons is theirs to eschew!
Our proliferate pups truly think this their due.
So work on you earners, as hard as you can
Build coin for your country to feed the taxman.
His pennies and coffers are spent
– the grand plan:
Dished out to the mothers
who need what they can!
He happened upon a bath
in which he figured ‘t would be a laugh,
that – sunk in that bath he’d sit
and lick smoke from a lazy spliff!
Huddled down and soaking clean
A joyous feeling crept inside
and with the tide, thoughts lapped at dreams –
clambered grimly bridges wide –
and, lightly grasped a brighter side…
From such elation…
Surely a humbling height to tumble from!
The ensuing reversal of fortunes
reads adverse and, at worse, prompts distortions:
…You astute will have spotted a cloud (rich and green –
with poor Stoneys name scrawled in big curls
whisps and whirls)
well this cloud sought escape;
as befits such big green!
As would happen that day there were sniffers about
Sniffing a smell that they’d all then sniff out!!
So this brought them flocking (think the wind changed, twice!)
with their noses all up, and – all twitching like mice…
Thus they sniffed him out –
Dragged him out –
Threw him out and
Locked him out!
…erroneous twerps, I hear you mutter – utterly fair…
And here you have entered
so late in my day
I’ve been washed, mashed, bashed, hassled:
I feel half blown away!
Tonight indeed the green is mean,
lovingly sweet and judiciously keen!
Now is time, to brightly fly –
Paint your own pictures on this blue sky!
Sulking in old boots and smoking dry tobacco into ringlets of fug there is a beautiful untouchable riding my memory like slow waves. Free to ramble through all my day-to-day wonderings this wisp of a witch leaves hints of her passing arse and brushing breast but refuses to shed light on any corner or artifice?! She chooses instead to skulk around corners and tease from the dark hollows of her once incandescent beauty. I am weak and willing and glad of her smokey company. This mirage of memory kindles warmth in my cold dark thoughts. She is far removed from reality by time in my head and far more intimate with me now, even thru her clouds and footprints… evaporating each time I try to get close.
(for) Morning our sun
breaks early, shines fierce –
lighting up all.
Drying puddles of tears.
Heralds each day begun,
the end of night fears!
So time moves along,
wakes new eyes to ideas,
lends broke hearts a new song;
shouts love on deaf ears.
I ponder the motions
through this mind so naive
so wrapped up with questions –
how I’m s’posed to achieve?
The glorious sun
catches dreams, feeds the breeze
keeps my loves all-day-warm
yet I long for a piece…
from here I spy a gloom
which promises ease
I fight with these notions,
to stand here on my feet.
A wonder undone
every thought a disease?
Where’s the answer I long
what to do to appease?
As the rising horizon
comes again from the east
where are all my dreams flowing?
Is there peace in this sleep?
At last my mind’s numb
floats in hoops and queries
another sunny day gone
Left my head just memories.
Yet, morning our sun
breaks early shines fierce.
This is going to kill you quickly
As you toke it oh so slowly
Rolled about for half the night
Thumbed and fumbled till was just right
Smoothed as round as round you know
Watch it glow