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Smile Babies
The rosy cheeked smile you delivered on that
cosy
Street corner will never see its offspring.
Potent it was like Genghis Khan.
In years to come they will say one in eight smiles
were born out of that one smile
Posthumous Irony Attempt No.1
There is no irony in a burial.
Little in a cremation.
So instead put me in a big bag,
A bag for life.
You are called on your mobile.
You wander around whilst you talk.
Subconsciously.
It helps you think. Clearly.
Would you embark on a walk just to think?
No you probably wouldn’t.
Man on Bus
On the bus
A man in a red jumper is talking to himself
Or someone
I bet its someone
I bet he gets off at the right stop and
I bet when I get home I will strike up a conversation
With someone who isn’t there.
He’s just braver than me
The Old Cat
Your whiskers were built for contemplation.
Your eyes say that you could take on
Plato in a game of
Thought and make him look silly.
After all you’ve had a million
years (cat years) to sit and
ponder it all. Your mind
an army of wisdoms.
A spec of light shines upon the
Pillow next to you, reflected from my fork.
You pounce.
I sigh.
Thoughts whilst listening to 'Avril
14th' by Aphex Twin
I know where I want to be right now.
I want to be playing the piano in a field,
yellow from the enduring summer months, and
for the evening sun to be almost playing the piano
through my back and
I want you to be lying next to me,
looking up at the skies and trying to make faces
out of the clouds whilst carelessly singing along, sometimes
in harmony, sometimes not.
I want you to be in your world and for me to be in mine and
for us to build an almighty tunnel between them so
we can take holidays, a bit like the Channel Tunnel but in
our tunnel we would be able to see the fish and
the sea would be a Caribbean blue.
The joys of indeterminate pairings
Oh you incongruous pair sitting over there
Related? Lovers? Kidnap?
Its hard to tell
But this bus journey sure has gone by fast.
Do not not talk to them
Don’t talk to them because they’ll kill you.
Inevitably.
Don’t even look at them because if they see you
looking at them then they WILL kill you.
It will be gruesome to boot.
Whatever you do, do NOT, under any circumstances, accept sweets
from them because they’ll either be poisonous or part of a
devious trap with the end result being your untimely death
(and you had so much to give)
Talk to them.
They’re your friends, enemies, first loves (yes you thought you were in love before but you weren’t), god; they’re even your
birth mother (sorry to break it to you like this), and what’s more;
Everyone you have known or will ever know is one of them.
They are your future, staring you (and then looking away
when
eyes
meet)
right in the face.
Begin.
Try Em With Hot Milk
Night. Bus Stop.
The wind has gone on holiday but the cold has not.
I should have worn gloves. Burgundy hands.
Thoughts for warmth.
Across the road an advert for coco pops.
‘Try em with hot milk’ says the monkey avec chapeau and the
overkill smile, thumb raised.
Thoughts for warmth.
Something that would make this whole existence
malarkey better is the chance to depart in concert.
If life could afford us one ounce of togetherness
in a lifetime of unbending separateness.
The chance to journey to the great beyond,
whatever it may hold, as two.
Down the path covered in darkness
you would be worth a million others.
and which is more,
we would laugh.
Thoughts for warmth.
The bus….
Unidentified object in the bagging area
Unmade beds in the Camden area
Untold desire in the romance area.
Unfathomable formulas in the surface area
Unheeded warnings in the danger area
Ungodly hours in the Berlin area
Unflinching footballer in the penalty area
Unruly kids in the no-go area
Unwanted pregnancy in the Romford area.
Unparralled voices in the Bach aria
See what I did there
The man opposite me (on the train)
Your least favourite day of the year is almost
certainly Red Nose Day because
you already have one.
Must bring it all home.
You sit opposite, as I write this right
under your beak.
If intensely middle England breeding farms existed you
would almost certainly have been born in one.
The uber desperate, suicide grey, comb over sitting ugly on
the top of your suited body.
The toothless maroon tie with patterning not worthy of description,
done up real, real tight.
The belly that has seen many a good meal.
I should have spoken to you to get a coherent perspective on your life but you were doing the Daily Telegraph crossword and i was feeling a bit tired.
A Winter
Nap
I find that you are not here and
under frozen duvets I wish you were
so we could go from bread to
toast together in the
wink of an eye
and then…
sleep.
a shared mini death with the
added bonus of waking
And talking of things alien to the upright
and then
unfortunately,
inevitably,
back to the world.
Instead
Instead of a glass, a mug
Instead of a shake, a hug
Instead of OH MY GODCAKES THIS WORLD IS THE WORST PLACE EVER
AND WERE ALL GOING TO DIE MISERABLE AND ALONE,
a shrug
Instead of a flicker, a gaze
Instead of a sadness, a malaise
Instead of The Antiques Road Show,
SONGS OF PRAISE
Instead of a map, a roam
Instead of a water feature, a gnome
Instead of I CANT FIND MY BLOODY SOCKS I SWEAR I LEFT THEM ON
THE BED, a groan
Instead of a run, an amble
Instead of an addiction, a dabble
Instead of Risk, Monopoly, Jenga, Hungry Hippos, and Cluedo,
SCRABBLE
Instead of a day, a little life
Instead of a moments calm, a moments strife
Instead of I CANT HAVE THIS PASSER BY DELIVERING MY BABY BECAUSE THEY
DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE DOING,
a midwife
Instead of a push, a thrust
Instead of July, August (cos I was born in this month)
Instead of marriage, divorce, kids, romance and relationships,
LUST
Emily on the train through the snow
It was snowing.
You sat down opposite me with two cups of something
But I never asked what was in them.
We shook hands. Yours were colder than mine.
You were headed for your Grandmothers funeral.
She was 86 when she died.
It was to be a quiet funeral.
She wanted no fuss but she did want songs
Lots of them.
You vowed to sing them as loud as you could.
Just in case your Grandmother could hear from wherever she was.
You were training to be a doctor but for now you were moving and
Being still at the same time, one eye on England covered in snow, telling
me that you had no children but if you did they were to be called
‘Rufus’.
You were not married but when you did get married
It would be to a man named Andy, who wooed you by making
You a sculpture of sorts from uncooked pasta.
No more than ten people would attend your wedding you said.
I said that person No.11 might be a bit peeved.
You said you didn’t care.
At one point I asked of your parents and you said your mother
was an accountant.
The way you said ‘was’ indicated
that your mother had flown the earths nest.
I did not question further. There were many silent listeners around us.
I never got your surname although I did attempt many a guess.
You wouldn’t tell me though.
I asked why.
"Because its better this way" you said.
You were right.
Faulty Tracks
While we sleep you are supposed to be
Down there in your eye catching orange,
Making tracks, LITERALLY.
But oh no no.
You can’t have been because whilst you’re fast
Asleep, I’m here, in the light of day, vexed.
Maybe you don’t fix anything, maybe you just mince
around in your orange attire with your orange mates,
eating oranges and painting orange paintings in your
orange underworld designed by your God, Jason Orange (from Take That,obvo)
One quiet night, when you least expect,
I’ll don my orange robes, and dig and dig until I find you.
Then we can fanny around together through the
night and laugh at all the poor buggers who are
going to get screwed in the morning.
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An amusing anecdote
I read in a book.
Maurice Sendak, the man who wrote Where The Wild Things Are, was once
asked in an interview "What is the best letter/comment you have ever
received from a reader?"Maurice Sendak: "It was from a little
boy. He sent me a charming card with a drawing. I loved it. I answer all
my children's letters-sometimes very hastily-but this one i lingered over.
I sent him a postcard and i drew a picture of Wild Thing on it. I wrote,
"Dear Jim, I loved your card." Then i got a letter back from
his mother and she said, "Jim loved your card so much he ate it."
That to me was the greatest compliment i've ever received. He didnt care
that it was an original drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he
ate it."
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A good quote i read yesterday
in a book "
if you can keep your head while all around you are losing their,
its just possible you havent grasped the situation "
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My top 24 quotes found in 2009
1. Hes a gifted man, but in the end, hes just a man (Michelle on Barack)
2. People have this illusion that all over the world, all the time, all kinds of fantastic things are happeing. When in fact, over most of the world, most of the time, nothing is happening.
3. Love is friendship set to music
4. To his dog, every man is Napoleon; hence the constant popularity of dogs
5.The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when he asked me what i thought, and then attended my answer
6. It is only at the first encounter that a face makes its full impression on us
7. The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write on story, and writes another.
8. There was once a man who cried when it snowed. He went to a psychotherapist. Now when the snow falls, he weeps for his mother, who died in the winter.
9. What is one to do on a bleak day but drift for a while through the streets- drift with the stream.
`10. A mans face as a rule says more, and more interesting things, than his mouth, for it is a compendium of everything his mouth will ever say, int that it is a monogram of all his thoughts and aspirations.
11. Conversation would be vasly improved by the consistent use of four simple words : I do not know
12. A subject for a great poet would be God's boredom after the seventh day of creation.
13. If you press me to say why i loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.
14. If you tell the truth you dont have to remember anything.
15. The only source of knowledge is experience
16. An artist cannot speak about his art anymore than a plant can discuss horticulutre
17. All truly great thoughts are conceieved by walking
18. Succes has always been a great liar
19. I see perfectly; there are two possible situations- one can either do this or do that. Do it or do not do it- you will regret both
20. You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than a year of conversation
21. Beware that barrennness of a busy life
22. Computers are useless, they can oly give you answers.
23. The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is a reaction, both are transformed.
24. There's no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong choice of clothes.
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Mr Nietzche wrote this in a book called "Human, all too human"
"Life consists of rare, isolated moments of the greatest significance, and of innumerably many intervals, during which at best the silhouettes of those moments hover about us. Love, springtime, every beautiful melody, mountains, the moon, the sea – all these speak completely to the heart but once, if in fact they ever do get a chance to speak completely. For many men do not have those moments at all, and are themselves intervals and intermissions in the symphony of real life."
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Thomas Mann wrote this in a book called "A man and his dog".
'...a human being tends to believe that the mood of the moment, be it
troubled or blithe, peaceful or stormy, is the true, native, and
permanent tenor of his existence; and in particular he like to exalt
every happy chance into an inviolable rule and regard it as the benign
order of his life - whereas the truth is that he is condemned to
improvisation and morally lives from hand to mouth all the time'.
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