Wednesday 19 February 2014

That was a good evening

Thoroughly enjoyed Tina and Neil's naughty scratch night. The shows are shaping up very well.

My beloved had some fantastic lines and the world she had built is already engrossing and I want to know more MORE and find out what happens next (or rather how we get to the bits I know happen next). Everyone has to look out for The Mermaid's Cunt at Edinburgh in August.

Tina's show is already sounding slick and well put together. Nice to hear something so incredibly personal and honest be entertaining and not feel at all self indulgent.

Huzzahs all round!

Thursday 13 February 2014

Ok, so

Going to get back on this blogging horse. Or bike.
Let's go with horse. At least with a horse you don't get punctures quite as frequently as I seem to be getting at the moment.

There is the downside that I probably can't ride a horse, but there you go.

Thursday 10 May 2012

ha, that's fun

turns out that Larkin has a poem called "Poem about Oxford" as well. This explains the people finding my blog through Google searches!

Wednesday 9 May 2012

Child Soldiers

A spray of Lynx *shh shhh* for body armour
Fake ID to deflect the bouncer
Shoes shined, hair slicked
He’s ready for war
He’s ready for
Another round in the “battle of the sexes”.

On the train with his mates
and the talk turns to girls
It’s clear they’ve been through
Lots before
It’s clear they’ve all had
Loss before
Like only 17 year olds have

There’s talk of plenty more fish in the sea
There’s talk of the time at the party when he
Met that girl
The one with the eyes ….
And the body that… well
That’s too much to tell
But suffice to say … the whole. train. knew.

With friends around him
They rally round.
With bravura found in
Cans of Stella.
The crucial ammo
For that night’s manoeuvre.

So under cover of darkness
They arrive at the club
Laser lights like tracer
Pierce through fake fog
They take up positions
To prop up the bar
All thinking they are
The coolest ones there.

Eyes sweep round the room
Eyes make a connection
His head jerks back with recognition
With a smile to the girl
with the body that well....
He makes his break
across no man's land
He’s dodging flailing body parts
and lodging dodgy ways to start
a conversation in his foggy head.

“Hey Sarah, I'm sure you remember me,
from that party, the one where know we..
Anyway babe I'm a soldier now
And a soldier knows how to handle his gun so
Let’s go and dance, let's have some fun”
A cheeky smile, a glint in his eye, and
“Sarah I might die so
come and get me while you can”

He knew it was lame but it got a reaction,
A smile, a kiss,
A telephone number
6 more months of happy laughter.

He's eighteen now and training done
He waits with his mates in the pouring rain
Waits for a plane to take them away
A plane that will tilt through bullet spray.

And with a spray of Lynx *shh shh* under his body armour
Boots shone, helmet on
He's ready for war
He's ready for another round
In the “war on terror”.

First patrols and he's got no fear
Young guy's swagger and youthful cheer.
A call from Sarah she's got some news
In 7 months there's a baby due.
Just 1 month more and they'll be together
He and her and their little soldier.

Proud to bursting, full of life
In love with his girlfriend, his future wife
Patrolling with his friends from home
It all makes sense, it’s all in place.
Until the next mission turns it round.

His bravura fades as vehicles roll
And he’s dodging flying body parts
He's seeing things he'd rather not
He's seeing friends …. .
He sees them....
So there's a tear in his eye while on the satellite phone
“Oh Sarah, babe, I might actually die
She feels a kick as she starts to sob
And six more months now seems so long
So long for it all to go wrong
So long for him not to come home.

On a transport with his mates
Each with that thousand yard stare
No conversation now just a determined air
And it's clear they've been through
Lots before
It's clear they've all had
Loss before
Like no 18 year old should.

And a spray of lynx *shh shh* under his body armour
Boots worn, hair torn
He's not ready for war
He's not ready for
Another round in their 'war on terror'

Still, no bouncer here, so no fake ID.
Just a hail of gunfire
And the boom of an IED.

Tuesday 17 April 2012

The burden of communication

 Last night I bought a set of scales.

A knock on my door had revealed a tinker
With back bent by the weight of his wares.

His pack shrugged off
He spread a scarlet cloth on the ground
And scattered upon it were:

Potions for: love
                  … forgetting
                                                                      Powders to
                                                                      cure aches in:  spines

                         Obsidian pendants

                                                               Bronze bracelets
        St Christopher medals

And a set of scales.

White plastic

A puzzled stare and the tinker explained.

These scales give the true weight of things.
           They all add to an object

And so, I bought a set of scales and weighed everything I could find

That ornament from Greece?
1 pound

A pen, chewed and scratched from poem after poem?
Half a stone

That small, circular badge I'd worn?
The one that first caught your eye?
The one that set all this in motion?
More than a car.

 Until tentatively

and the dial?
It read

                                                     \    /  _ _
                                                      \ /   |      |   |       |
                                                       |    |      |   |       |
                                                       |    |_ _ |   | _ _ |

Thursday 22 March 2012


My bag
Contains two notebooks
Innumerable silica balls, spilt from a teasingly shake n salt like bag.
Two empty crisp packets, tied in bows, (held on to to avoid littering),
A hacky sack, (just in case)
Two tangerines, bright and juicy
A Simon Armitage book of poems.

But no pen to write this one.

Wednesday 29 February 2012

Hand puppets

You take my hand in yours
Digits interlocked
With palms together as we walk.

Each step brings
A caress
From your guitarist fingers.

Step and slide
Step and slide

A circle
On the back of my hand
Makes your thumb a tongue
And our hands mouths
Kissing en Franҫais