Wednesday, 12 December 2007

Wish List

I'm compiling my wish list for 2008.It's going to be great, I can tell, as "8" rhymes with great.....and mate and date and "no wait" , "what an incredible fate" and "clean slate"....and "appreciate" and "not too late". Well my wishes are these:

1. My top ultimate wish. Must think as I don't want to squander it.
2. This is the runner up wish incase no.1 wish is impossible. Also need some time to contemplate. And it would be best kept secret.
3. This wish is for if wish 1 and 2 both fall through. In this case, I would be looking for a new genie. Just send me the compact umbrella with the company logo--the gift everyone gets who didn't win the Audi Roadster or the Cruise to Panama. Up Panama. Who wants to go there? Stuck in the locks for nine hours staring at cargo ships. Take me to Butlins...or is it Buttlins? Not sure of the spelling. Not sure if I want to go to Butlins.

Other wishes for 2008
1. Delete all the psychos from my speedial.
2. I want a silver toilet seat like the ones in Costa Coffee. Wow.
A royal experience for the common people. Where's my screwdriver?
3. Bulldoze the bedroom and extend into the neighbour's apartment.
4. Spend time at the hookah bar on Brick Lane.
5. An enhanced and enchanted social life.
6. Get flowers give cards
7. Invest more time in art making..have more shows. sell paintings.
8. Have a maid to clean the house so that I can invest more time in my art.
9. To be accident-free especially on the bike.
10. The death of a certain neighbour.
11. picnics and beach holidays

Quote of the day

That man's on my to do list

The Strumbum

This is work from a very old sketchbook 1986-87.
(Accompanied by line drawings of a boy with "strumbum" looks like a guitar)

The boy sat on the branch that wasn't there
Waiting for the next leaf to fall on his forehead
And waken him from his 100 day sleep.
There were many leaves below him.
He couldn't understand how they had all missed him.
The blue sun was turning his hair orange..
Reverse Oxidation.
His mother would be furious.

He envisioned his strumbum.
Something imperfect about it made it his.
Only he would want it.
It loomed shyly above his head
Within reach, but he didn't want to scare it away.
He leaned away to look up at it with love
And humble understanding.
He did not wonder how or if
He would ever play the strumbum.
Its prescence filled his head with green and orange
At the same time.
He felt thoughts , but no words
And felt their breath.

He missed playing the strumbum. He'd played it for 800 days
But that was 8000 days ago when his hair
Was a different shape
As was the world.
And there were two moons back then.
Now, only one.
His love for the strumbum was rekindled through lonelieness.
His strumbum sang with him,
Singing back to him like a friend returns love.
Only a few chords at first,
He played , from his head, their most favourite tunes.
The music sheets familiar but yellowed
Were like an ancient language on the tip of his tongue.
The strumbum hesitated
Like a neglected friend who doesn't know
Whether or not to forgive.

He wished he had a strumbum.
But even if he had one,
He had not the talent and feared
Not the patience to play it.
He felt heavy handed.
Gravity tugged on every limb
That only 1000's of minutes before
Had been numb.
He felt like he had lost everything he had had....
However vague an everything is.
He went on to realise he never had anything.
He was only moving through.
What was then that is not now?
What is full and what is empty?
Forgotten.

The strumbum's voice travelled.
The music.
His hair danced to it
And woke him as it brushed his cheek.

Monday, 26 November 2007

Thoughts of Water

Hello.
We are the Society for the Positive Healing Powers of Water.
Our current motto is "Think When You Flush"
As we are also concerned with conservation.
Last year, our motto was "Think Before You Flush"
But we have changed this to emphasize the importance of water itself
Because you would be flushing and not thinking about the water
While you were flushing it away. That's just too sad.
In fact, the first thing on our agenda tonight
Is to decide if we should change our motto yet again....to
"Think Before, During, and After You Flush."
The pros of this are that is even more specific
To what we want to achieve.
The negative side is that it may be asking too much.
And may take up too much time.
And we may be inundated with calls...for example
How long before and how long after do you have to think about the flushing?
How hard do you have to concentrate?
Can you read a book while doing this?
Of course, once we have decided on the exact timing of these imperatives,
We will post it in the FYI and FAQ of our website.

The topic for this evening's discussion is:
Say Kind Things to Water and It will Change your Life...
By Author....Wilma Tedworth.
Wilma....welcome...

Gated Community

In voice of---Linda Lovelace (Chair of the social society for the gated community of Wintergreen Springs)

Hello and welcome....welcome....
Take your coats off....feel at home...
Not too at home.
You have homes to go to.
This is the first annual meeting
Of the Wintergreen Springs Gated Community Social club.
You can call it WSGC for short.
We're a cosy group.
You're here to rules tonight.
Why call it a gated community if you just throw away the key?
Let's start with the basics:

Each house must be set back from the road exactly 35 feet.
That's an easy rule to follow as you didn't build your house yourself... did you?
Secondly, the grass should be kept between one and two inches at all times.
If you have any problems with this, our handy caretaker can come out
And readjust your blades
With his measure.
He will be around to measure your lawn on a weekly basis.
Don't worry. You don't have to be home.

What colour do you want your house?
Pink, baby blue, or dark orange?
Well it ain't happening here....we're not Barnum and Bailey's Flying Circus.
You choose: White, beige, or for the deep thinkers and eccentrics...
We have dark gray.
If you are a decisive person, (we like that) get it sided.
You house will be white, beige or gray until you die.
Unless, of course, you move.
If you choose to paint your house,
You are welcome to switch between the three colors,
but prior notice is needed...Inform Sam at the clubhouse.
Permission will be granted....but we love paperwork.

You must also have at least five televisions.
One must be on at all times...
We recommend the kids' rooms or the kitchen for this.
You must have a subscription to 200 cable channels.
You must eat breakfast while watching the morning news
In the kitchen and never sit down, never finish your coffee,
And always kiss your partner and children before leaving for work.
If this takes too much time, either alternate this task every other day,
Or choose just one or the other.
And if your children are under five, stick them in the Montessori.

You must have a deep freeze the size of Antarctica in your basement.
In this, you must have at least three frozen pizzas, ten gourmet ready meals,
half a cow portioned into hamburgers and steaks, and some sort of vegetarian
Option for difficult guests.
We're a very gregarious group.
You are required to attend
Four block parties per year.
It's BYOB-bring your own beer
And BOYB-Be on your best behaviour.
But that rule is usually broken
Due to the first one.

We're going to take a break now and have some bunt cake...
Emma Lou?
Oh. She's not here. Sorry --no bunt cake, however,
If you wish a piece of bunt cake to be mailed to you
Please sign the guest list at the back of the theatre.

Saturday, 24 November 2007

broken smarties

Sinking Cruise Ship Rescue Drama
Involves laughter with a stranger:

What are you doing later?
(pause)
Oh God. You have nothing to do do you?
(both laugh)
Well. I'm not going to Tesco to buy chicken for my mama .
And then take it home and fry it up.
Or did you bake it?

No I'm going to the body shop to get face creams....
It's alright to shop for face creams if you are a man
But it's not alright if you fore go a lunch invitation
to do so.

Ben looked at the photo and said,
"You broke my smarties."
Then he looked at me and asked,
"Your smarties are broken.
Have you ever broken smarties?"
...really said that. just like that. Smart boy.

Monday, 19 November 2007

It's Better

It's better to be burningly truthful
When you know it's going to burn.

And it's better to hear the truth
When the volume hurts.

It's better to flick ash into a cardboard container
When you know there's water.

It's better to know what you lost at the casino
Even when it's more than you bet.

And it's better to see the mistakes that you made
Even when you didn't know you were making them.

It's better to deflate the pillow of hope
Than to sleep uncertainly

It's better to find those letters
At the bottom of Mt. Vesuvious
And read them again
Flamingos and all.
Before they blow up
Though the ink has run
And the feathers have flown
And say hello.

I think the address was there all the time.
On my internal speedial/filofax....
however it was filed
scrawled on a piece of paper
that might have been
torn off one of your letters.
I just never wrote the letter later.
Even the postcode.
Ha. Even the postcode.
It's been my pincode for years.

And what are you doing later...?
I'm having Manchester United over
For some popcorn.

Sunday, 18 November 2007

Toddler Logic

Do you know why they don't have
Drug Prevention Week for Toddlers?
Because there's no need for it.
Toddlers already on drugs.
They born on it.
They got the logic of rhinos.

"Mamma I want the undergroundies."
What, please tell me, are the undergroundies?
Some kind of superhero I missed
Or is a food that we currently out of?
Undergroundies...undergroundies.
Sounds like a band.
So I check the internet.
No...just train schedules.

Then he takes a photo of grandma's house....
Says....It's grandma.... I love grandma....
.....cuts her up with the scissors.
"Baby safe scissors"
I suppose he's showing his affection.
OOh Grandma's up in the sky.
Sure she is now.

When he's done with that....
He takes the scissors to his winky...
Puts it between the blades....
And then decides that that would be too painful.
That would have been the end
Of the clan.

Saturday, 17 November 2007

Lila in the Sauna

In the voice of Lila the ex-pat Polish Princess...talking to man in the sauna.

I hope you don't mind. I put a whole bucket full of water
On the rocks before you arrived.
So.... it is steamy.
If I would have known you were coming,
I would have left the temperature as it is....
Already quite hot.
My you look so sweaty.
You must not be feeling well.
Do you have a fever?
Here, let me pat your brow.
Oh..I don't have a towel.
I will just use some of bikini...here.
Is that better?
It is a wonder you are so sweaty.
It does not seem that you are exerting yourself.
You are just sitting.....
But perhaps the removal of your ipod
From your ears is exercise enough.
From the look of your muscles,
I think you have been exercising
Already too much.
Some body builders.....
They have cobra brain....
They have exercised so much
That the muscles around their brains
have tightened to the point that
That it is cutting off the oxygen to their
Gray matter.
Ofcourse, when you have this kind of
Muscular body....
Perhaps this other part does not matter.
What do you think?
Can you speak?
Or are you just pretty?
I hope you don't have this disease.

Tuesday, 13 November 2007

Thirteen New Ways of Looking at a Blackbird

This poem was inspired by Wallace Stevens, 1879-1955, who wrote the original Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird . This new version is by Aiden McGee who gave a reading at the Exmouth Arms recently.


1 A blackbird zig-zags the forest clearing.
It forgets and cannot foretell
The thread of this ballet.


2 The man showed the people
He was a man of the people
By wearing country clothes
And walking around some villages.
The blackbird ignored him.


3 A man and a woman are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird are one.
(Wallace Stevens)
But a blackbird in a flock
Precedes a trail of dots
After which words and numbers
Invisibly dispute the final total…


4 The cynic returns to his roots
And makes up a lot of hard luck.
He sulks on a hillside
In front of a tree
Above him branches criss-cross
Where the blackbird perches.


5 At 0500 hours you had two hours
Before you had to get up.
Capital Radio cannot account
For how you were thinking -
The blackbird had an audience.


6 One January England got cold
Just after Chesterfield.
The freeze moved northerly
As a blackbird moved
From the skies to the hedgerows.



7 A thing is either a blackbird
Or it is not a blackbird.
And binary logic is so coolly composed
It’s a wonder that nobody has tried
To punch right through it.


8 He had an affair for two years.
He could not say what she could not say
So they were communally static.
Towards the end they bought a cat
That looked squarely with intent
At blackbirds on the patio.


9 Doing things is our ordeal,
We are confused by the many,
Fixated on the one,
And there is an asymmetry
In the blackbird’s beak,
Thin, orange, like an oboe reed,
Essential to the whole.


10 But things do not link.
The earth is but a country park in the nexus,
Part of a list not causal;
Mercury, Venus, Earth, love,
Crust, core, blackbirds, hemispheres,
Tesco, all waiting their turn
And then something else.


11 The clairvoyant has a future
For people will fall in love.
But it is everything that happens
Within that moment
As when a blackbird blinks
That the crystal ball finds so elusive.


12 There are two sides to purity.
Cuckoos are bailiffs that don’t send letters
Seagulls scream like affronted children
Wood-pigeons morse code in cooing and shitting
And rooks do a satire that makes words look…
Wordy.
But the blackbird potters around
A little like an unobtrusive minister.


13 The summer made a joy of the afternoon
The city was full of pubs with gardens
And the pubs with gardens were full of people
And the burbling hilarity felt justified.
On the edge of it all
Near some mustard fields
The blackbird found a partner for life.


Copyright Aidan McGee 2001, 2007

Sunday, 11 November 2007

Lila and the No Smoking Program

This monologue was performed at the Exmouth Arms on Saturday night as part of the Klezmer Night. This is done in the voice of Lila the ex pat polish princess:

Hello. I must wear my hat. I keep all my thoughts in here
Just like you... the man with the beard.
My husband has a beard, but he is not here tonight.
He is on a plane.....often on a plane
As he is on a no smoking program.
He has to sit in the seat for no smoking.
This makes it absolutely impossible for him to smoke.
Such pressure.
It is very hard and very difficult for him.
So hard and so expensive. So brave he is to do this.
SOmetimes, he sits on the plane for six hours.
Then he has to stay somewhere for a while
As he is tired...and so is his instrutor.
He says that this no smoking program will take...
About two years to complete.
His instructor says he is doing very well,
But still needs some improvement.
So he has to work hard to pay for this course.
Sadly, it is not enough
So we had to sell some of my things...my rings...
Some dresses....
Then my fur coat...he took off last week.
So sorry. But it is for a good cause.
But strange as I saw it on the lady next door.
Perhaps she has one just like mine.
She is always copying me.
She has no fashion sense of her own.
I have seen jewelry on her...
Just like mine...like I used to have.
Then , we had to sell Fifi.
Fifi was our beloved miniature barker.
So lovely....but so expensive...
She speaks Chinese. We had a Chinese translator.
She was born speaking Chinese
So she is a much rarer dog than the ones
Who go to Chinese lessons.
But then, I think I heard Fifi speaking next door.
It can not be though. And I know that that lady....
She doesn't speak Chinese very well if at all,
So they wouldn't get on very well
If it is Fifi...but of course, it is not.

Do you like my Jesus paintings?
This one is Jesus on the hill with the baby sheep.
They are bleating for Jesus.
You used to be able to hear them
But I have to change the battery.
Thank you...that you like them.
I know you are nodding inside.
They are painted on cardboard....
Printed actually. A very expensive technique.
They used to be in oil, but this cardboard is much more...
Modern. I want to keep up with the times.
And the price tags.....
I know...Only 59 pence.
It is not true.
They are secretly from Christies....£350,000.00
Each.
However, I do not want the thieves to know this.
They just see the price tag and are fooled by it.
Foolish of them...Last time they were here...
They only took the silver and the television.
They used to come regularly...
So I put out some cookies and milk for them...
Like you do for Santa Claus.
But they did not touch it....
Perhaps they were not hungry...
Or they didn't know it was for them.
I should leave a note in future.
We also took off the gold frames.
They were too heavy...
Could fall on your foot and cause some pain.
And also ...my husband needed them.
But I think that there is not much left for him or them to take now.


If you would like a tour sometime,
While the collection is still intact...
Please let me know.
However, only my good friends....
I do for free.
And as I have no good friends,
You must exchange something for this
Privelege.... a trinket or some such thing.
Like this lady over there.... your necklace...yes
The one next to the man with the
Big bald spot wit wisps of fake hair sewn into his head.
Did it hurt? It looks so unnatural.
If you are going to be bald, it is better to do it
In a windswept way...
So you look like you just came off a clipper ship
In Penzance
and are only docking long enough
For a pint of Guiness and some peanuts.
But you....
Men should never spend more time
On their hair than their ladies do.

Do you like my potted palm trees?
I know...they are dead.
But this is also good
As If I forget to water them...
I have not killed them
As they are already dead.
They were not killed.
They only died.
When ELvis died.
They were so sad about it.
He used to live here.
I will not tell you much about him.
He used to sleep in this room.
I slept in this room...and sometimes....
This room.
I am not one to write a book about it.
But I keep the plants he gave me.
That is all. I will tell you more next time.

Thursday, 8 November 2007

The Clock Man

Eight o'clock man.
It's time to wake.
Nine o'clock man.
Ten minutes too late.
Four o'clock man.
One hour to go.
Ten minutes to five.
The meeting is slow.
Five o'clock man.
Fills in the report.
Six o'clock man.
He watches some sport.
Seven o'clock man.
He's having his dinner.
Eight o'clock man.
My team was the winner.
Nine o'clock man.
He's ready for bed.
Ten o'clock man.
He rests his head.

Four Cups second series

Candle Lady has sold

Poem on cup with face:

Long fingered lady
On Lake Geneva
A red-lipped complainer
Lives like a Diva

Looks out the window
"Our boat is too small."
Husband comes home...
"He's really too tall."

Poem on cup with mouse upside-down and framed cat face:

If you are bothered by furry pests...
I am Alex the cat. In me, you must invest.
I'll give your mouse traps a rest..
As at hunting, I am the best.

Large cup with hearts on-no text.
Brown, purple bands.
Red and brown bands with beige inlay.
Beige and green.
Inlay polk a dots and stripes.
Inside--hearts at bottom in beige
with one red and one green.

One face cup with some stars.
Text---You are a star.

Wednesday, 7 November 2007

Dark Stone

A deep dark stone at the bottom of the sea.
In tidal waves it touches me.
The distant crash of breathe to my ear.
I hold the shell so I can hear.
It moves two centimeters
Every three years.
The scientists
Foretell our erruptive fears.

There's nothing I can do or move.
Write your name in the sand
What would it do
It's at the bottom of the ocean just like you.

Friday, 2 November 2007

Shoppin' Trolley Thievin' Club


(Continuation--to be read after the previous BYOB--BOYB)

N: Here we are. Go lock up the shoppin' trolley.

H: Lock it up? Who's gonna steal a shoppin' trolley?

N: We did you fool. You think we the only shoppin' trolley
thieves in the whole world?

H: In the whole world?... No. On this block? Yes.

N: You forgettin'...we with our friends tonight.

H: Oh yeah...The shoppin' trolley thievin' club.
Ya'll gotta bring your own trolley to be a member....
Lest you forget. Look....There's Edward's over there.

N: How do you know that's Edward's?

H: Number 509...same number as his house.
He put in a special order for it.
Took three weeks.
Didn't even steal it himself.
Paid someone to steal it for him.
Now if that ain't upscale crooked, what is?

N: That's stylin'. I reckon we need a number 27.

H: I reckon 137's good enough. Subtract the 1 from the 3...
And you got a two.....two and seven...just think of it that way.

N: What if I get mixed up and use addition instead?
I be goin' home the wrong way.

H: For God's sake Thelma

N: Thelma? My name ain't Thelma.
You be goin' home the wrong way soon.

H: Norma...It a shoppin' trolley.
Be happy with it. I ain't spendin'
No one hundred dollars to get it customized.

N: One hundred dollars? What is it ---turbo charged?

H: It's a turbo of a charge, but he got it delivered.

N: With delivery.... for shame... that ain't stylin'
That's just stupid.

H: Ok...it's silver plated. He didn't want me to tell no one.
That how come he got it locked up.

N: See! People do lock up their shoppin' trolleys.

H: Some people...but Norma. We ain't that stupid.
And if you really want....for Christmas....
I'll get you your own personal shoppin' trolley number
From Didgeree Don's.

N: Didgeree Don's...Whoop dee doo.
What about my other present?

H: I want ...I want....
That number's gonna be expensive honey.

BYOB--BOYB



N: Harry. Get the bottle.
H: Which bottle?
N: Good question.
Bring them all.
H: I can't carry all that.

N: Well it's BYOB tonight.
So I'd BOYB if I were you.
Be on your best behaviour--
And that means bring 'em all...
Even if you have to use the shopping trolley.

H: The shoppin' trolley? Honey--we tramp enough as it is
Without pushin' a shoppin' trolley down the street.
People'l think we got no where to live.

N: If they see us and they know us,
Then they know where we live....and how....
How fine it is.
And if they see us and they don't know us...
Then they don't live in this neighborhood...
They should be home by now.
Tuckin' away their wallets.
And what matter is it to them:
Where we live, how we live, or if we live at all?

H: Oh, you're so smart Norma....
Sometimes, I think you snuck out to night school
And got a college education
When I wasn't lookin'.

N: Well, when you weren't lookin',
.....I did sneek out....
But I didn't get no diploma....
Interestin' course though.

H: Norma. Are you tellin' me somethin'
I don't want to know? I don't want to know
Your innermost secrets.
I don't even wanna know your panty size.

N: Can't you take a wild guess?

H: Wild? Yes. I ain't thinkin' of numbers when I....

N: When you what? Lookin' for my Christmas gift?
I told you which panties I wanted.
I even told you which store they in.
Hell, I got a better chance with Santa.
Or maybe I'll just get one of his helpers.

H:Yeah. Just get on the speed dial and remind.
Bet he got that number tattooed on his head.

N: Well don't your imagination fly when it has to.

H: Ain't no imagination.
I've been sleepin' with my ears open.

N: Have you now? Shouldda told me.
Half the conversation was drowned out
By your snorin'. You even yelled out in your sleep.

H: I know. That was funny wasn't it?
"Lorraine...Lorraine"

N: Would have been more convincin'
If you weren't shoutin' the name of your own mother.

H: She ain't the only Lorraine.

N: Oh is it? Ya'll shouldn't tell me things I don't wanna know.

H: And don't your imagination fly....

N: Shut up and grow some muscles.
We got a party to go to.

Thursday, 1 November 2007

Now in Oz

The balcony the bottle
It's resting on the nozzle
Of the hoover which is trapped
Between the doorway and the mat.

I'll tidy in a few
But a rest is overdue
And some other things to do
Prep the chicken for a stew

Hands that hold tomorrow got a cramp
Partly from the season as it's damp.
Wondering and waiting for replies
A tiny dying cycle---giant sighs

Tomorrow has been dropped from the agenda
The best reply would be return to sender
Better leave alone and leave it out
Than dance between the pleasures and the doubts

Can't trust it anymore
The reasons out they pour
I've got tired of being ignored
I'm too busy. I'm too bored.

If I replay this once again
I will not be my own friend.
Why do they pretend to care
When there's really nothing there?

Why give you satisfaction
Of my passionate reactions
To your teasing little phrases
When your heartbeat isn't phased?

I suppose it brought you idle titillation
Answer's clear but still I close with hesitation
Can't even say exactly what it was
Or where it would have gone...it's now in Oz.

Sympathise

SBHW: Suburban Housewife
N: Double Door Norma

SBHW: I can't believe you did that. That was totally inappropriate.
N: Did what? We've been talkin' about fifty things in the last minute.
SBHW: Totally unfeeling and inappropriate.
N: Oh so I don't have no feelins' now either. Where? In my leg or my head?
SBHW:Don't get anatomical on me. Can't you page through?
You must know what I mean or
Are you are just one big walking faux pas?
N: Walking? I told you I can't even move my leg right now. So how can I make any
Walkin' fo pas? Unless I do it laying down.
SBHW: Correction--crawling faux pas. You don't get it do you? The card you sent.
N: The card? Honey--I killed a man last week...by accident.....Last worry is the card
I sent.
SBHW: Well I have to say. That had to be rustiest nail I've ever seen
pounded into a coffin. I can't believe you sent his wife a card.
N: I was bein' thoughtful.
SBHW: But what were you thinking?
N: I was thinkin'..... incase it her birthday too,
I'd get her one of those mulit-message cards....
You know....the ones with the boxes?
Tick here if it's a birthday.
Tick here for congratulations.
Tick for a wedding.
And tick here for "get well."
SBHW: But he isn't gonna get well the way you left him laying in the road.
N: I know. Tire marks all over the man. Never got up.
I ticked "congratulations"....on your new life. As I guess his wife....
She'll be startin' over again soon.
SBHW: It's not a thing to congratulate.
N: Well they didn't have a box for
"Sorry your stupid husband crossed the road
At the wrong time and scratched up my Harley."
SBHW: Ofcourse not. You don't need to be that specific.
A simple "In sympathy" would do.
N: Sympathize? If I didn't have my helmet on,
It would have been a mutual exchange...
One big sorry Hallmark Golden Moment.
Two for one funeral.
SBHW: I don't think that woman wants you buried next to her husband.
N: I wouldn't want to lay next to him neither--dead or alive.
SBHW: And she invited you to the funeral?
N: Not exactly. But I saw it in the paper--kinda recognised him.
Unmashed his face with my imagination.
SBHW: Well considering the circumstances, I am quite surprised
that you showed up.
N: Showed up? I showed up everyone. I had my best party dress on.
Most people---all in black.....looked like they going to a funeral.
SBHW: But it was a funeral.
N: I didn't go to the funeral. I ain't sittin' through all that....
"We all gathered here today....."
No. I went to the party afterwards.
SBHW: The reception.
N: The reception...the party whatever. Still drinks and food.
Pretty fancy food too. So tiny--couldn't even pick it up with ma fingers.
Had to use a toothpick. Had to go to chicken shack afterwards
To have myself a proper meal.

Wednesday, 31 October 2007

Salmon Slapped

Salmon slapped him on the head.
Couldn't tell the fish was dead.
Took it home and fried it nicely
Later--feeling very dicey.

Eyes were whitish--calloused over
So he sprinkled parsely clovers
But this herb was not enough
To make it into finer stuff.

Then the doctor had to say
Shouldn't fry your fish this way.
Look, this fish is out of date.
Think you fried it far too late.

Preludes by T.S. Eliot

I
The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o'clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.

II
The morning comes to consciousness
Of faint stale smells of beer
From the sawdust-trampled street
With all its muddy feet that press
To early coffee-stands.
With the other masquerades
That time resumes,
One thinks of all the hands
That are raising dingy shades
In a thousand furnished rooms.

III
You tossed a blanket from the bed,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling.
And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters,
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;
Sitting along the bed's edge, where
You curled the papers from your hair,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
In the palms of both soiled hands.

IV
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o'clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.

Cosmo Cups

Press the Cosmo Cups title above for details on the Cosmo China Shop

1. My name is Kiss
The creepy Kitty Cat
Dead mouse guts in the kitchen?
I know nothing about that.

I am Sardina
The cake lady
Where is my kitty?
Help me find him please.

I have one hundred
Candles on my head
I have to move slowly
The doctor said.

(two hours: Sardina the cake lady
took too long. She has candles on her head.
She is very detailed. The cat is the opposite.
He was painted in five minutes but has
a fresh look. With graphics Kiss written sideways
and upside down. )

2. My name is Fred
The frozen cat
I often freeze
Don't wear a hat

I am Linda
I am shy
I'll come out
If you bake a pie

My name is Tony
Kinder than a pony
Lunch tomorrow
I'll make cannelloni

The name is Norm
My troubles are few
If there's a storm,
It's just a light dew.

My name is Lou Lou
The luscious city kitty
I'm dating a poodle
He thinks I'm quite pretty

(One hour but better to do one poem per cup.
Negative space cat faces on checker board pattern.
Poems written in white space. Colours red and brown.
Brown has red spots and crosses in the background.
red rim)

3. I'm a black bear in the woods
My tree is full of chocolate puds
You wake me from my dreams I might
Grab you with my paws and bite
As I'm a black bear and I need
My chocolate puds indeed.

(Bear needs work, but this cup
takes half an hour and can make a
series of animal poem cups. picture
could be a bear and some
chocolate puds...or a tree trunk full of
chocolate puds)

4. abstract leaves...pattern
purple and gray wash.
brown leaf stems on top
partial bleed.

(This is a different non-text theme
or could put some stanzas from knotty oaks
on this cup series.)

Tuesday, 30 October 2007

Foiled Words

No Stars out tonight
Only aeroplanes and satellites.
A rising wuf into the sky
The fireworks of fourth July.

But then again this is November
Fifth is what we must remember.
Bombs that failed the parliament
How Fawkes disguised his armaments.

Three British Catholic Gentlemen
Gunpowder in their plot against
The reigning Lords of government
Unfair the ways the laws were spent.

Lord Monteagle's interception
Of a message---his protection
Read to save one thousand more
And then Guy Fawkes was out the door.

With gentle tortures passed the clock
Until he met the gallows block.
A hero now, but never then
His foiled words are in ascent.

When you unwrap the foil from your rocket.
Think about the governmental pocket
And tell yourself that now we have the power
To stop them if they're seeming somewhat sour.

Light it, watch it rise and fall apart
Like empires taking other countries' hearts
And buckets full of hands and Belgian waiters
Singing over rotten mashed potatoes.

Monday, 29 October 2007

Talkin' Laundry

Be careful ladies
When yo backstage with my husband here
Don't trip up
When you're gettin' that autograph of his...
Make sure it ain't a phone number.

JCM: What you doin' here honey.
We're behavin. Just strummin'.
N: I'm here cus of the laundry.
JCM: Laundry ?...But the washer dryer's at home
N: No this dirty laundry.
Dog pulled something peculiar out from under the bed.
Well-trained. Tend to think he on my side.
Found about 18 pairs of underwear.
Would have been OK cept for the fact that they
All different sizes.
But don't worry.
I've already taken them down the Salvation Army.
Put um in the pile---ten for fifty cents....
Seein' as they ain't washed.

JCM: But honey--there's an explanation for that.
I thought I'd take on some extra work doin' laundry.
Seein' as Jackleen lets me use her machine.
N: Jackleen and her machine...
Ain't been working for the past couple years.
She does her laundry at the laundrette.
She was sayin' as she pulled one of your socks
Out the dryer.
It were clinging to her pantyhose.

JCM: Ahhh. That's where my socks are....
N: Don't try to change the subject.
JCM: What subject? We talkin' laundry here.

Dark enough to see

I thought that you would look again.
I thought that you would turn your head.
I've got five seconds left
Look again or I'll be dead.

The shapeless winds that shape the time
I kiss them all good bye
And wait to feel my mind
Shatter--double yellow lines.

Leaning too far forward
Into the future
Shaken by the need
Of knees needing sutures

The tyre marks still on his leg.
He didn't look although I begged.
Flying over top of a taxi
Rolled and landed on my knee
Occupation change to be
My new name--"Stunt Girl Maxine".

So I had a cup of tea.
And I left it to go cold.
And sat there in the square
The gardener--a hold.

The pat of his hand as I walked out the park
A focus through the blur--a mind gone dark
Dark enough to see through the fears
It's not my knee. It was the years.

Of limping--then the builder saw
And bandaged me once more.
More real than reality
Another cup of tea.

"I will be more cautious" I write fifty times
With humbled chalk on blackboard lines
Scrawled in Caution--scrawled with care
Smallest portion to beware.

Sunday, 28 October 2007

Lovely Linda

Linda...that Lovely Linda.
She creeps right up my ass sometimes.
Comes over.....wanna borrow some baking soda.
Do I look like I'm hooked on the gourmet channel?
Put your pans away. I don't even have cable.
And if I did, I'd strangle you with it.

If she can't borrow it, she use it.
Can I use your bathroom?
Sure...long as you don't take it home with you.
You know where it is...
Same place you lost your cards last week
After losing at the casino.
Talk about a losin' streak.
Triple loss if you include
The sorry man who sprinted out the door
After that scene.

She in there over an hour....
What she doin'?
Deliverin' a baby?
Or milkin' a water buffalo?
Don't have no need to knock the door.
Can smell the scent of fifty perfumes
Seepin' out the keyhole.
I look.
For shame! She ain't sprayin' that bottle.

So I knock.... Just a minute.
Been fifty honey. How many more do you need?
Just powderin' my nose.
...and a big nose that is.
Looks more like inhalin' than powderin'
But then her ass is much bigger than the keyhole.

I conjure her out with some pizza.
Cook it up nice and hot
Until the fire alarm's ringin'.
She come out.... I shut the door.
Tell her I lost my keys.
Finally, she go home....
But bein' so kind and all...
Wants me to come to her house.

I ain't no teenage slumber party beauty queen.
I done with all that.
But we end up watchin' a movie
And phonin' a locksmith.
I go in the bathroom,
Dial the locksmith....tell him I found the keys.
Then, I tell lovely Linda that the locksmith has arrived.

Thought that would be the end of it...
No no...Lovely Linda don't want to miss any
Opportunities....
Wants to see how this lock and key situation works
She like him enough, she'll be losin' her keys by the end of the week.
Quick thinkin' me--I tell her he the husband
Of Winnie who runs the laundrette.
Winnie a big woman.
Don't mess with her machine.

But no....she still on continuous spin dry.
Next week...Lovely Linda goes to the laundrette.
It a laundrette/hair salon/saloon.
Ya'll can do your hair and fill your hangers
All at the same time
Even end up with a hangover
If it a permanent you're gettin'

Winnie--she the owner.
She don't do no hair no more.
She just observe...
Inhale the fumes.
Think it's what got her off a drugs.
Inhalin' all day--it a busman's holiday
If you do it all night too.

Linda notice Winnie don't have no ring on her finger.
Makes a subtle inquiry....
So you ain't locked up then?
Last name ain't Mrs. Smith....as in Lock?
Ain't you got a key for that lock?

Winnie--she just shake her head
And blame it on the fumes.

Pants in Flight

There once was a man whose pants were tight
He loved those pants--both day and night
Including torso--quite a height
In the door and out of sight.

Got thinkin' make his own website
To show his pants which fit just right.
Built it himself-he was so bright.
With animation--pants took flight

To google ladies'--mass delight
Computers crashing--what a plight.
So if I toss and turn at night,
May dream about those pants I might.

Double Door Norma's Bed and Breakfast

My honey and I--we in business
All kinds of business as you may or might imagine..
He's so skilled......
Top tools in his sack
We do everything together
As I got my own position in his company
And I got my own ways of labourin'.

He got the skillet.
I got the eggs.
Hungry? We kill it.
And it comes with a bed.

That's our Bed and Breakfast motto
Bed and breakfast--porch swing beers
You don't have to win the lotto
Because there ain't no chandeliers.

So come down an stay a while
Rest your head--kick off your shoes
People come from miles and miles
Just for clickin' off the news.

Ain't no news round here I say
'Cept the crickets rubbin' legs
It seems they aren't the only ones
Once ya'll get tucked up in that bed.

Goin' fishin' in the mornin'
Takin' breakfast afternoon
And if you like that gravy,
Well then don't forget your spoon.

A stranger when you come
Passin' friendly days with ease
And if you don't come back
It's because you never leave.

Friday, 26 October 2007

Foot To Stomach Aeroplanes

The pond--the reeds, the tallish stalks
Rustling-- no need to talk
Lapsed alert about her eyes
River winding out of sight.

Back inside the earthen tick
The tweets of sparrows pitched and quick
Isabella--dress so fair
Swings below the branches bare

Strolling are the poshest ladies
Roll the perfume of the babies
Searching for a shadowed spot
Holding head--unbutton top.

Windy walks, I tread The Heath
Kites are pulled from underneath
By happy smiles of young and old
As couples kiss, the benches hold

As do the rains for hours more
But then betrayed, begins to pour
The muddied earth beneath our feet
Alas we back to warmth and heat.

Bubbles clasp the heels of bath
Water spills--a child laughs
Echoes on ceramic tiles
For miles and miles and miles.

Fingers eye and says, "my ear."
Little red--my little dear
Come to Mummy--kiss it better
"B" for Benjamin--his letter.

Candle held awaits a light
Sing the "Happy Birthday" rite.
Foot to stomach aeroplanes
Falling down- " Again, Again."

Plastic bag on Teddy's head
Take it off--he'll soon be dead.
Not for naps--the jumping bed
The latest scar-- a shiny red.

Pulls my bracelet, "Come with me."
Chocolate milk-- a top-up needs
"Quiet please"-- a gentle phrase
Becomes "Shut up"--by end of day.

A saviour in the form of Tony
Bearing gifts of Cannelloni--
"Come on Ben"--again to park
Find some trees--take off the bark

And bites of days delayed by needs
Another tissue-- wipe the sneeze.
Disappear, the day is free
Thank you for this luxury.
Keys and coat--the cartoon cloister
Shopping list--a tiny oyster.

Flowered suitcase to entice
Never go the same place twice
Paths we lay--they soon grow over
Honeysuckle, bluebell, clover.

Thursday, 25 October 2007

Winter Morn



And so it is a winter morn
With coats and hats and woollies worn
The buses fumes become a cloud
And beats the traffic far too loud

Against the wind and ear drum
I fall into the racing hum
Of taxis black with meters running
Pedaling my heart is humming

Now we off to ballet school
Of deep pleies and bending rules
And little torsos all tutued
In pink and yellow pastels blue.

Yesterday, it was so warm
With t-shirts clinging in the swarm
But seasons change and so must we
Thicker socks to soles of feet.

Oinky Oink


I'm a black bear in the woods.
I'm dreaming of some chocolate puds.
You wake me from my dreams so good,
You better run, you should.
'Cause I'm a black bear and I need
My chocolate puds indeed.

I'm a zebra in the Serengetti.
Won't stay for dinner--don't like spaghetti.
Just like a horse but stripey so
I gallop and my hoofs do go.
Black, white, and stripey like a flag
You've never seen a horse this glad.

I'm a piggy oinking oinking.
At my belly your are pointing.
Look at yours. It's just the same.
Is my bacon and my pork to blame?
With eggs and beans and buttered toast.
Pull up a plate and make the most.

I'm a penguin gliding through
The icy waters oh so blue.
I flip flop when I walk--it's true
My waddling is nothing new.
With legs so short--they're barely there.
Into the water--please don't stare.

I'm a tiger--growl growl.
If I bite you, you will howl.
Sharpest gnashers in the jungle
When I roar, give out a rumble.
Longest teeth and claws that tear.
If you see me, you beware.

I'm a snake--an idle slither
Of my tongue and you will quiver.
Snoozing in a curled up maze
Poison puts you in a daze
So stay behind the glass and gaze
To keep alive your ways.

Long-legged patterns of giraffes
Nostrils orange snorting laughs
A graceful gaze and whip-lashed eyes
Survey the scene from such a height
While lucid lips--they graze on leaves
And languor in the tops of trees.

I'm a horsee in the meadow
Galloping to catch my shadow
Free I run in windy fields.
Breezy strides that never yield
To bridles--then what will I say?
I'll toss my mane-- a neigh a neigh.

Wednesday, 24 October 2007

Knotty Oaks






Knotty oaks bloom all the year
Their seasons have no flowers
Bare their souls devoid of fear
Their years are mearly hours

Knotty oaks adorn the field
The white through branch then twig.
Jagged cuts in skies that seal
And roots so firm can't dig.

The slumber of the sun surpassed
By ages made of bark
And when the moonlight gives us rest
A soul of quiet stark.

Knotty oaks don't reach but curl
Around a wintered heart
Letters carved--a boy a girl
In trunks that split apart.

Knotty Oaks--they shelter tombs
Mossed over long ago
Faded names in empty rooms
Without a friend or foe

Knotty Oaks outlive us all
And tell us of before
If we would only listen to
Their leafless whispers more.

Tuesday, 23 October 2007

Talk or Sing

operatic poetry eve trib to millais. Biked past the houses of parliament down to st. john smith's square. dress caught in chain. SJSS/ Gordon Beal. Comp tickets request. Put surname in all caps upper case. Like This venue, but prefer cosy wigmoer hoall. many beers i think this evening...not thinging. Don't like opera actually, even when it is free. next time, I will see if I can get paid to go there. Opera I think is good once every....give or take five years. I like piano though and I think I like lots of instruments. but Opera. What are they saying? talk or sing. don't do both.

Monday, 22 October 2007

Blood But Where's the Love


Been rackin' up the reasons for appointing new relations
Although we share a last name, there's no other fascination.
Too much silent conversation--hit our forties--still not friends.
Interrupted a volcano--quips of lava--can't pretend.

Would you like to see an office from the inside?---workaholic.
You spend your time vacationing- a partial alcoholic.
Daily, I vacation--watching Thomas trains collide.
Pancakes and complaining when I will not let him fry.

Call her twice a year--that's two calls more than she calls me.
Stopped with leaving messages--hang up before the beep.
Reddened shoes like Dorothy six thousand miles away.
Sprawled amongst the shoppin' malls--the city with the hay.

Come New Year, I will see her if I want or if I don't.
Her hubby slug will be there but, the mistletoe it won't.
Trippin' over presents that her lovely--he has bought.
Me, I'll get a pencil case--somewhere to put my thoughts.
He bothers with the neighbors--smiling, pours the best of drinks.
A drop for Mum and I? Our glasses never clinked.

They're livin' in their bubble. Let's hope it doesn't burst.
It could do but, it's slim that they have time to read my verse.
Tv, job, then Costco, then a restaurant, and tv.
Ain't got Jack to say to me. Don't share the same routine.

"Joanne?" She draws a blank--five years of paintings on her walls.
This one to upstairs bathroom. It really is too small.
Couldn't you have asked? "But I've framed them"--so emphatic.
"And you don't have the space for them--your tiny little attic."
Your hubby slug's observant--says it's just like "Rich Man-Poor Man."
Guess he's done some reading--better treated by a doorman.

She thinks I'm doin' nothin' with my miles.
Counts the dollars as she sits comparin' piles.
Blood, but where's the love? I've givin' up to think.
Sinking ever further on the brink.

(Actually, rereading this years later. I got on my with sister and we didn't fight. Then again, she had a cough.)

Lookin' For Leisure



Where's the telephone number?
.........In the phonebook....
Where's the phonebook?
.....where you left it...
Where'd you leave it?
I don't know. I wasn't the last one using it.
...There's a new phone book somewhere...
Came just last year.

Thing so big---
They gettin' bigger than bibles.
They be replacin' bibles altogether soon....
Even more useless.
Answers so many questions---
Questions you didn't even think of askin'---
Like what exactly is the size of Alaska?
I don't know. I was lookin' for the number for Pizza Hut.
So big...the phone book nowadays---What all else is in there?

Ten other uses for vinegar.
The weather in Argentina.
And fifty other things you can do with your vacuum cleaner
If you got the right attachments.
Picture of the local fire station staff
With their emergency if you really hot.

And last but not least--- Few Barbara Cartland novels in the back
Sixty of her most saucy situations all sucked down into fine print.
Some joker (long-libido bibliophile) knew he could get away with it.
Nobody reads the phone book anyway.

And who's in there?
Two seconds of fame for being in the phone book? Keep it.
Do I need to know them?..... No
Do they need to know me?...... No.

Do I need their telephone number if I don't need to know them?
A+B=C in my book....That's an algebraic No.
Just in case... ?.....in case of what?

Got a sudden hankerin' to talk a Mr. Chee Chitty Chonk?
Howdy Old Chonky....What up?
Nee how Madda wow wotsup...how eet han geeng...how han geeng?
Can't hang on for too long.
Bored already--put in a call to his brother--
Mr. Watta Madda Dadda.
Hello Mr. Watta Madda.
Watta Matta Dadda.

But really.... emergencies aside...
I had a genuine need for the telephone today.
Tried to put a question to the YMCA.
1-800-YMCA...Doesn't work...Ain't enough letters.
1-800-GAY-YMCA....that works but it the wrong number.
1-800-FUCK-THE-YMCA...too many.

Kids off school for a week--gotta put em somewhere.
Here?..... Will he fit in here?..... Over there?....
What about the neighbor? Never mind...call the Y.

(In squeaky high mid-west surburban girl voice)


Sorry--no. Due to the recent overly-subscribed need for our
creche and babysitting facilities during the school break,
we have had to curtail our services until further notice.
As we can not provide for the greater population in our community, we will be closing the babysitting service over school break in order to enter into discussion with the community and parents on how we can improve our services. We look forward to hearing from you and providing you all with a fair and fulfilling experience of excellence in excercise.

I ain't looking for excellence. I lookin' for a swimmin' pool.
Fair and fulfilling?....To who?....You "Due To" tart--
Experience my ass.


And to think....
what I had to do...... just to get the phone number---

Swimming--no not under "swimmin'".
It ain't called swimmin' no more.
Underwater exercise--aquatic aerobics.
To health clubs---no not there.

See Also---Also See
Fitness--leisure centers--spas--pools
It leisure? What's so leisurely about sweatin'?
Man's standing there huffin' puffin'
Nearly losing his teeth he can barely breathe.

Hairy Harry and Lean Larry-- more leisure lovers
Them two--they strokin' the water right out of the pool.
But I ain't lookin' for leisure.
I just wanna go swimmin'.

Sunday, 21 October 2007

Phone Chords



N: Someone just called.
F: Who were that then? Do I know 'em?
N: I don't know.
I can't answer the phone.
F: Tied up?
N: No.
F: Why not? FBI?
N: No. Nothin' so unlikely.

Phone's missin'...my daaaamn phone....
Telephone....where in the devil's deserted tundra is it?

Ain't missin' the whole phone--just part of it
Just the part you put to your ear.
Part you hold in ya hand w' th'all the buttons n' numbas
Honey--They all pressed now!---- All pressed.
Been to the moon seven times--and back
Just lookin' for it.

F: Think some thieves broke in?
N: Unlikely.
If they know anything....(didn't leave their bleedin' minds behine)
They know there ain't (Jack) shit in this block of flats worth takin'
Wastin' their time....better off dealin' drugs.
Unless they real stupid----just wanted half a phone.

R1: Can't get it---it's plugged in.
R2: Well unplug it then.
R1: Don't know how to.
R2: Ya'll ain't comin' with me again.
N: See? My tv's still here. Hopeless. Don't you want my tv?
Too stupid to even steal a tv...or too snobby--
R2: We only deal in flat screens.

I reckon the cute little culprit is a little more local...
And ain't more than three feet high.
My son......he into ALL crime.
Can't even book a three-year-old for a misdemeanor these days.
And he knows it.
Toddler detention---yet to be invented.
He the black hole of Holborn--that boy.

Boy: Don't like My Mamma talkin' on the telephone.
My Mamma---she needs to talk to me.
Think I'll just throw it over the balcony.
Ooh. Door's locked
Have to put it in the bin.
Ooh. She takin' out the garbage now.
Mamma's throwin' away her own telephone.
Poor woman. I'll have to protect her from herself. (shakes head)

Norma:
Now I wouldn't have this problem if I tied him up
But I don't have a phone cord to tie him up with.
Wouldn't have this problem if I had a normal phone
Phone chord--umbillical contraption.
Keeps the phone holder and the hand set connected.
Together like.
Some couples--it be a good idea for them to get a phone chord.
But you can't even buy 'em anymore.

Shop boy---greasy headed nobody from Neverland...
Spent all his money on hair gel
Lookin' at you like you out of style. (if you ask for one of them phones)
Want some Bell bottoms with your telephone Mam?
That's how come they call it Illinois Bell.
Least it used to be Illinois Bell.
Think they out of business now.
"Illinois Boot Cut" didn't sound right.

Still see them tangly telephones on Charlie's Angels--two in the mornin'.
Farrah got it all fussed up in her feathered hair.
Where's your mobile Farrah?
And get a hair cut.
People used to get murdered too with some of them phone chords.
Peter Falk limpin' up to the body shakin' his head. (tut tut tut)
Don't use that phone chord stunt for strangulation anymore.
Too low tech.
They be switchin' back to bare hands.

Where's my phone?
Now I gotta buy a new phone.
All the things I was gonna do...but I gotta get a phone.
I was gonna get a new organizer for my shower.
Go to the salon--get my nails done---sick a clippin' at home.
I was going on a cruise to the Bahamas Baby.
But not now..........gotta buy a new phone.

(Warning the rest of this is a crescendo of profanity.
Stop here if it hurts your ear. A very big apology to anyone who finds this offensive.)

Every seen people when they lose their phone, the wallet--the keys?
Where...... did I put my keys?
Where are my keys?
Where the mother fucking hell are my god damn fucking keys?
(Alternatively)
Where the feather mucking fell are my dog blamn trucking fees?

Heard you the first time.
They ain't here.

And if somebody lose their wallet--it a sorry moment in history.
Where's my wallet?
Who took my wallet?
Who the hell took my damn wallet?
Where..............is my God----Damn---Wallet?
God--help me find my fucking wallet.
Who the fucking hell took my god damn fucking wallet?
Who the fist-fuckin' god-damn bleedin'- black-assed-bollocks....

It ain't here.

(Spoken Time 3:47)

Two Soups





Tired of being healthy? Want to bring on some diarrhea? Try this recipe:

Big-ass bunch of 'sparagus
Boil it.............salt
....wash it first....need to tell ya?
Always do that...wash em first....
and after.
Don't want a load of dirty vegetables around.

Take off the rubber bands and keep em for something crafty
Put them in the drawer...
Use them as a hair tie if yo bored.
Not bored--- hair too short...?
Get all your bills and tie them up in a purple rubber band.
Put them under your pillow and bring on the tooth fairy.
Ain't got no bills--?
Whatchya doin' with your time? Go out and buy somethin'.
Do a dance for the tooth fairy....
Tooth fairy comes---she busy--she late
Just gonna laugh in your face
I only do teeth--she says.
But it's worth a try.
May get her to pay the water bill
You use water to brush your teeth.
She only pay half?
Change your postcode.

This recipe I was tellin' you about--
Better if you eat it on a Friday or Saturday
Because--ya'll are gonna have to be
Constricting your movements ---
Between the tv and the toilet.

And there will be a lot of movements--trust me.
So many--ya'll would be wise not to flush every time.
Wait til it's just so....kinda soupy.
Get a ladle--that be the one you serve
To the very special people on your guest list--
Need I say? The ones you don't like but invite anyway..
Just like the relatives ya'll be trippin' over every Christmas.
Can always refrigerate some for them.
Add some spices to it--may be a little bland.
In fact--you should really curry it up.

Now the asparagus is ready--
Take it out and mash it up a little.
Throw in some butter and the left over juice.
Now you got a soup--It plain, but it good.
Bored with that? Throw in some greek yogurt.
Still bored--put some ketchup to it.

Saturday, 20 October 2007

Minky Maiden Margareete



Minky mind of concrete.
That maiden Margareete.
Sometimes--little chilly but, otherwise, she sweet.
Some would call it more like sweet and sour.
But I reckon, deep inside, she is a flower.

Her bubbly hugs of giggles ain't complete
Until she slaps you with a saunter down the street.
There was a time in Lago Como--took the train.
She fancied singin' out some opera refrains

So inspired by the scene
Of the mountains and the green
Other passengers? So shocked they dropped their jaws.
Margareete---she sat there waitin' for applause.

Didn't wanna get a ticket
She on holiday so stick it
The conductor didn't like her singin' then.
Fine was waived by an Italian speakin' friend.

Some people call her Maggy...
Moldy Maggy's far too haggy
For this lady with her diddy boom ways.
Moody Maggy--always goin' through a phase.

She's got a talent for designing fine braziers.
Tight and lacy--gotta zip it--get the sheers.
She could have her own label
If she wanted 'cause she's able

Cut the corsets---kickin' off a crazy gaze.
Lace up one of those--she get her own ways.
She can't help it--girl is always causin' stares.
You know the men--they like those underwears.
I should ask her--cut a pattern up for me.
She's a master--even got her own degree.

Ya'll could eat that Margareete.
She a microwave in heat.
Set the dial on ten.
Ain't done? Press again.

She fidget with her sandwich in the cafe.
She brought it in from home--ain't gonna pay.
She a member of this club
But the fee--it cause a rub

So her bottle under table she does pour
And her giggles cause the waiters to ignore.
Just what we needed--do you want a little more?
Meet her later--she will be there on the floor.

Some people call her Greta.
Little Greta--Like your sweater.
"My own label," prides the maiden, Margareete.
Nine stitches every time--very neat.

Margie--please don't take this sonnet,
With a bee up in your bonnet
As so carefully, I've penned this one for you
Our frigid friendship--a toast is overdue.

Rue de Bustle Boom



A zim bah don't ---a zim bah doo
Cacciatore vindaloo.
Ever had that dish?
.........Ain't just a fish.
Ever heard that song?
........Zazz zithers on.

A song you only hear in places far too hot for trousers.
The people play--their banjos--are much bigger than their houses.

That's why the folks are living in la rue de Bustle Boom.
The instruments that shelter woe are taking all the room.
Elated habitation in the street.
Engine running--kiss the people on the cheek.

They stop their cars for very long hellos.
Imagine--this were London, broken nose.
Could call it dedicated musication
Voices I adored while on vacation

Singin' to the music that they live for
Midnight melodies on steps of door.
And kiddies cruisin' makin' noises sweet.
My neighbors here--they never could complete.

How come you all assembled in the road?
The weather here invites--it's never cold.
Tonight--a sunset movie--outdoor screening.
From my seat, I eye the sea is teeming.

Minarets and steeples slice the view.
Peeling pastel building magic hues.
Tunisian boats and Corsican cargo.
Travel on to ports--the waving slow.

Tonight we go again to stroll the port.
Come with us--our friendship's like a fort.
Famed "Le Panier"--older than Marseille.
We reach the beach to spend another day.
We seek to teach you life is full of play.
So humbled by the clouds of London's gray.

Psychaedelic Salad Makers




(To visit Mary on the farm, press the poem title. To learn about wilderness training--google the teaching drum.)

Mary strung her bow for a while in the woods.
Getting back to nature--as naked as she could.
Road kill and berries supped over fire.
Rat racin' super malls and markets on the pyre.

Made herself a yurt out of sticks and plastic bags.
Keepin' out the rain had a few little snags.
A hole in the top to catch snow and melt.
Grassy cup of tea and a shower when she smelt.

You gotta to wait for rain just to have a cup of tea?
Sippin' up the drips is not a brew for me.
Miss my milk and sugar if I lived out yonder there.
Not to mention biscuits--I ponder when I dare.

Gotta melt the snow just to wash your hairy pits?
Don't want to have to think--how she did to take a shit.
Once, came a bear---she was squatting in the dew.
Broke the yellow icicle--aimed and threw.

"See ya!" said the bear. Her archery was stunning.
Belted up her pants--then belted off running.
At times, she would shower in the petrol station.
Way she was livin'--you could call it a vacation.

Made and played the drums in a circle made of beards.
Healthy outdoor lovers but, some folk were kind of weird.
Howdy. Name is Jed--out of jail--got a spoon?
Feelin' kind of pale. Thought I'd hit your commune.

Pseudo-camping in the woods--can't always pick your neighbors.
Psychaedelic salad makers come in all flavors.
Berries in the bushes, that's the way it goes.
Me--I get alarmed if my tv blows.

But after three years, turned from livin' to survivin'
Stuck up in the woods with a truck too broke for drivin'
So Ken came to get her--"This life no longer fond."
Now, if she miss it, she got her own pond.

Always tell her "leave the pond and try the ocean for a while."
If she did, I think she'd love it as adventure is her style.
Shake hands with the Bonobos--a Congolese canoe.
Trekkin' in the forest. I'll pack my rucksack too.

Diggin' up for Farmer John--so angelic--so organic.
Mary and her tee-pee---she still gotta save the planet.
Tapping on her drums--cross legged does she sit.
Posing in her moose dress--such a nice fit.

Friday, 19 October 2007

The Karma of the Suit




Perhaps your pad is running out of paper
Playful ink that's thinning to a taper
Littering the cities of the heart
Typing tangos many miles apart.

A gentle walk to somewhere new
The softest crush of leaves
The bush is beaten bare and blue
The branches open seas

A careful prod to push it off the cliff
A falling splash to stop the wishing if.

Not to entertain this any longer. Slow to think.
The cork still on the message in the bottle full of ink.
Your answer seemed a very loud abyss.
Clear the board without a lettered kiss.

The queen begins to checker with a touch of hate
When moved without a certain checkmate.
As this game is on a paper we're not using
Play your pawns. The wait becomes a bruising.

Alerted by the tamest phrase
A single word--a hope is raised
But truth has killed the waiting pains.
The truest cleaner when it rains.

Betray the self with far too biased leanings
Changing the arithmetic of feelings
Triple-whipped up over innocent ice-cream
Not a cone to lick-- just a wishful thinking dream.

This had to be the closest I could get to you.
Between the lives--embraces overdue.
It melted into blood and then I bled.
A thorny cone just dripping--now it's dead.

Should I edit more before I press the send?
Fuss with where to put the "F" in the "friend"
If I bother, only have to wait again.
Move on to other things and save my pen.

Couldn't know the man I used to know.
When I knew it all and everything ago.
Perhaps I didn't know you very well
As I didn't know myself, I can not tell.

With distance, my imagination lies.
I thought I saw some miles in your eyes.
And so to end obtuse oral movements.
I'll steal away to poems for improvement.

Fly so high
Fly but why
Feelin' the words
Fill in the words
They're just words

Sight of night.
Flight of flights.
Fill in the words
Haven't you heard
The world's warm stir
Out of all of everywhere
The world's worst whirrr.

The Polish Hotel California



This poem comes from a true story--
My experience with Hans and Carol Kalliwoda of
Europartrain--Amsterdam to Krakow 2000.
To learn more about the Europartrain,
click on the title link above.


The Armoured King Recycling
Own castle in Gdansk.
Converted scraps the masses leave
Prop pleasures for his dance.

This dance involves some stage fright--
The audience--not him.
Pierced---not his ear
Hung from meat hook chandeliers

Breast and nipple--- rips so slim
While trumpeting. It's grim.
He showed us a video on this.
Free ticket--would you go? Might have to miss.

His castle many--roomed
The stairways lead to air.
He found abandoned--left alone.
Only he did care.

He troubled with a candle
Our steps on hollow stone
To light our tresspass through his home
The courtyard overgrown.

One room he has for bottles
One room for bits of tin
One room he has for plastics
Recovered from the bin.

The foundry with its armour...
His costumes for the stage.
It's there he plays his trumpets
His passions on a rage.

So Hans--where did you find him?
Not "find"--no--I was told.
To seek the lonely trumpeter
In the castle old.

A motorcycle bar with men
Musician?----Rogolus
"His ways are strange some say
But he drinks vodka just like us."

Later-- engine tarries at the gate.
Hans pulls---two hands--to open--not his fate.
Then he comes one-handed....Rogolus--he prys with ease
The iron gate ajar and sweeps us in, "But Please..."

A quiet midnight tour with lighted candle.
A broken tiled floor---a door---no handle.
A light bulb for his guests--a cup of tea
Floats above his bed brought from the sea.

Conversations with Tony



I see them, I don't feel well.
I took my niece to one cafe in Soho...
She say, "Why you bring me here?
The men--they kiss"....Soho no good now.
Used to be--50 p--put in the slot---see the girl...
Now.... it take you fifty pounds---only buy one drink...
And then she drink it. Manage
It no good...don't go those doorways.
Dress nice---ladies no good...dress stay on.
I tell you-- sheep in the clothes of the fox.
I don't know myself...my friend--he tell me this.
We have coffee. He have catering business.
He give the job the Russians--the Poles.
He keep one lady aside---she not for dishes.

Thursday, 18 October 2007

Grocery Robots



What is it with that Tesco off a Tottenham Court Road?
Sorry little painful scene...that is...
I tossin' Tesco?---Yes g'rl.
I seen twenty little pre-sorted tucked up folk
Laid up in line
Got the goodies in the beat up baskets
Graspin' at the last of the nine dollar cheese--
Family size--too yella to eat.
Truck it up. Truck it up.
And who be doin' the loadin'?
Your local little low wage nobody--
Ain't from here--ain't from there...
Sittin' there pickin' his teeth with a five inch grin at the til.

I wanna say, "Honey, Don't rain on my day...
I done my job. I just been shoppin.
Don't get paid for it niether.'"
It your job to ring it up...so where's all yo' friends?
Gone home already?
Damn Pandora-ed the boxes...
Break in the back--chuffin' on cream puffs.

Don't point me over there to that electric machine.
I ain't here for that wicked vibe--do that at home.
What I'm spose to do? Ring it up myself?
Ya'll better help me else I reckon half of this ain't gonna beep.
Bring on the staff and fetch the manager.
I don't have no barcode tattooed on my ass.

(If you don't like Tesco's new automated check out system, dial this number and your call will be directed: 01992 632222 Head Office)

Unnatural Fashion Destination

(For Grazia Magazine Oct. 22nd)

Sofia--This dress could win "most dowdy" at a funeral. Oh how embarrassing-it's a tie. She's wearing the same dress as the corpse. On someone bigger boned, perhaps it would add whimsy, but on her--it's a big and blousy drown. The too-busy fabric pattern blows the entire dress, but could send a casual chic growl if reassembled as baggy jungle pants.

Sophi Dahl--Again, another funeral frock.The slant of her underwear is spoiling the view. If you're wearing see through mesh, don't be messy--be dressy. Is that her red bag in the background? I hope not.

Victoria--Move over Mrs. Jetson! She looks absolutely chemical in that surreal teal dress. A space-dust cocktail and a pair of thin red specs the colour of Mars would compliment this scientific but otherwise too-sharp-to-compliment ensemble. If you're going all the way to Mars, I suggest you cover those legs as your fashion destination doesn't seem to be that natural.

Pets




I'm not that bad with pets
Although some don't last long.
I don't have no regrets
Don't mean to do them wrong.

They sometimes choose just not to stick around.
This cage too small--I'm gettin' out of town.
A suitcase? No--but let me check the weather.
May need an extra coat--the one with feather.

Chinchillas--they're as nervous as they come.
Have this for a pet--you'll have just one.
They jiggle and they jump--you try to touch.
A cuddle in the lap is just too much.

My chinchilla's name was Pample Moose.
He's teething at the bars--I cut him loose.
He lasted half a year and then I said,
" Ain't nervous anymore--perhaps he's dead."

Tried to pick a spot for him to bury.
But couldn't dig the frozen cemetery
With earth as hard as ice--it was too tough
So threw him over fence--it was enough.

Fluffy was the sweetest pet of all--
My guinea pig who liked to play football.
Dyed his hair some green and purple strands.
The rodent's set--a punk from other lands.

Dogs and cats--you take them out for walks.
But guinea pigs--they are not into sports.
So put him in a shoe box with some holes to let in light
And pulled him round on string attached to back of bike.

Excitement was the reason for his lengthy age.
Eight years went by, but then he couldn't turn the page.
One prankster put him in the fridge beside the milk container.
Poor Fluffy died very next day with case of pet pneumonia.
Buried in a shoe box in the yard.
Poor Fluffy--letting go was rather hard.

There was a jazzy bluesman with a golden fish.
Experiments with ambience--put candle under dish.
Forgot the fish--the way that we were feeling.
Laid back to watch the shadows on the ceiling.

The slow gray moody movements of this goldfish tail
Were beautiful to watch but, by morning, paled.
Alarm goes off--he's swimming upside-down.
The gold fish bowl had heated into frown.
I tell you how he ended, it would spoil it....
But Goldie's burial was via toilet.

Wednesday, 17 October 2007

Emmit Steele



Twas a man called Albert who lived for a time
With a man called Emmit. This ain't gonna rhyme.
They lived like a couple in the usual way.
But then old Emmit died one day.

Had paintings galore from the attic to the cellar.
Klimt and Klee---all the famous fellas.
But how to divide the estate was the pain.
An historical moment for Albert to gain.

He saved them the trouble
By loading up his truck
This one-- I'll have a double.
This print has upped my luck.

So Johnny Doeringer--- executor of the will.
Was up cataloguing and up taking pills.
The house was for sale, but Albert wouldn't go.
Stock-taking too--gonna have his own show.

(more later on this true tale)

Another session gone

The atheistic vicar's wife was in the pool today.
She isn't one for prayin'--To God--Not much to say.
We stopped a while in shallow end-- a brief chat 'for we launched.
Her chatter--it was short and sweet if not a little raunched.

"The pool--it is so crowded--doing sums...
I've had my head up several people's bums.
I really wouldn't mind it if they weren't all gay--"
Then she put her goggles on and swam away.

Verbatim--take no credit for her speech.
My lane--it weren't the water brushed my cheek.
An accident? His hand was firmly planted.
He came up for a "sorry" as he panted.

Must be foggy goggles--quite a few.
I left my specs behind-- a blurry view.
My hat--I have to find--for it is raw.
My hair I think--is turning into straw.

Morning mothers in the pool
As the kids are off at school
As the grandmas and the uncles entertain.
We're so happy to be stealing this refrain.

Then, The Speedo lady in the deep end--met today.
She says, "You're Benjamin's Mum"--my AKA.
I'm Evan's. I recall you have a bike.
My son is only two. He has a trike.

Her son thinks that my son's enthusiastic.
Polite she is---his devilism's drastic.
He will karate chop in two
If that toy belongs to you.
Tantrum toting as he's mashing up the plastic.

How do you find the weaving in the traffic?
My husband was a messenger--so tragic.
Though he's still alive today
Broke bones--more than I may
Like to recall.
Don't take a fall.
You can't replace...
The little man on back
With his sweet face.

When saying our goodbyes, gave my first name.
She noted it and then, she did the same,
But already can't recall.
We are mothers of them all
And so "Hello Evan's mother"--she'll remain.

I shower. Then I put my helmet on.
It's nearly twelve--another session gone.
As I am racing to the gate
Making sure not to be late
Her words ring out as clear as telephone.
Slow down. You can't leave Benjamin alone.
If you faltered, would not survive the blame.
That woman...Oh Rachel was her name.

The Other Coast of Skye

(In process)

The day the music died, I was alive.
Ice cream--no American Pie.
Instead, it melted
And stayed there for a while.

The day the music died.
It was a lie.
It was a five hour feat.
But he still arrived asleep.

He was born on the other coast of Skye.
Land of tides that reach
The Northern Lights.


Somewhere in my stomach, there's a meal.
I still have not digested.
Don't know why.

Dad just like the dummy at the Y--
Annie Annie can you hear?
Annie Annie can you breathe?

The vicar sat to help me hold my mind.
But his quiet little words--
My ears never heard.

He's moved on to the other coast of sky
With its nine mile beach.
You can have one seashell each.

Put it to your ear when you cry.
And you will surely hear
Your father very clear.

You wanna view the body one more time?
Couldn't move from my seat.
As they rolled down the sheet.

I'd rather keep his laughter in my mind,
Than say good-bye---What would I feel
If I thought that this was real?

Some days he had so serious a smile
He had to hide what's underneath.
Every breath he had to squeeze.

He's livin' on the other coast of sky.
It's got a nine mile beach.
You can have one seashell each.

Scattered in a garden grown for wine
But the glasses, they don't clink--
Grapes too young to drink.

Frozen in the bed--so late it's light
So loud I couldn't hear my dreams
For all the sighs and the screams.

Still looking for him there so late in life
Sometimes at night, I can see,
But the ladder doesn't reach.

I'll see you on the other coast of sky.
And until then, I 'll try to feel
Like this life is truly real.

Tuesday, 16 October 2007

The Man from Tennessee

What about the man from Tennessee?

I'm Spiderman




I'm Spiderman. I'm Spiderman....And now I am a tiger.
I'll grrr you. I grrr you. I jump into the eiger.
Now I am a lion. I'll brush you with my mane.
Swish you with my tail--until you are in pain.

Catch me. I'm a doggy--crawling out the door.
I'll bite you--excite you. I'll scratch you with my paws.
And now I am a froggy hiding under table.
I'm summer-saulting freely as my mother is unable
To capture me and put me in a cage.
I'm not a blinking psycho--it's my age.

I'll get away with this
Until I'm four or five or six.
And then it will be time to be a man.
I'll be a man at seven, that's my plan.
And if you think that seven is too early,
I'll grab you by the hair. It is so curly.

Monday, 15 October 2007

Mind the Gap



There ain't nothin' better than ridin' on the train.

Don't care the destination--it's when I know my name.

The little man inside me--he rumbles down the tracks.

I got my Thomas train boots and my wooly tartan slacks.

I can have my own seat. Don't sit me on your lap.

You sit over there. Don't worry--Mind the gap.

Train is reaching Holborn. Doors open. They get off.

Come on let's keep trainin'. It isn't time to stop.

On the escalator moving lower up to higher.

Three hundred feet of people look at me and they admire.

Little boy is standing on the stair next to his mother.

That's the age to be--so cute at three-there ain't no other.

Sunday, 14 October 2007

Domestic Dark Abyss




Ash in glass and apple eaten
But not to the core.
GI Joe and Thomas Trains
Clean the kitchen floor

Before you slip on tracks and blocks
assorted puzzle pieces,
Reunite the lonely socks
And put away the peaches.

Tidy up the teddies
As they're finished with their picnic.
Blueish hue--uneaten lunch
And crushed up chocolate chicks.

Separate dried weetabix
From top of kitchen table.
Soak it with some water first.
Then scrape if still unable.

Keep scrapin' with the crayon on the door.
You don't him not to do it anymore.

Recycle all the plastic
When you take the garbage out.
Hoover up the marmalade,
Then defrost the trout.

Washer to the dryer--
From the dryer to the bed.
Bed to drawers and closet
For tomorrow, start again.

Tobasco Boy's at park
With Uncle Tony, he insists.
Now's the time to start
On this domestic dark abyss.

Saturday, 13 October 2007

Organic Trip

Please now...don't tell me you organic.
All caught up with greenin' up the planet?
Say the smoke goin' up in the air
Gonna block out the sun.
Burn us all up.

Well. As that's the case,
I reckon oughtta have a barbeque first.
So Saturday last--
Got the smoke cookin' all nice...
good friends and foes all round

Except for one lady--- she sit up too straight.
Wrong kind a neighbor.... She a neighbor without a hood.
Look like Mrs. I'm too good.
Peculiar way she wear her clothes
Mid-summer..she's got panty hose.
That only reach up to her thigh
Cus of her shorts, can see the line.
Kind of gear a girl wears strippin'
This woman dance? No. She only tippin'

Visitin' some long lost half-adopted relative
happened to be our Julie down the street is where she live.

Just a one-off thang. We hopin'
She don't come again--especially as they broke in
To her car and stole her grin.

Hamburgers---is what we had...
Nicely burned--th' weren't too bad
But then she ask...in a posh rude way
"Is this organic? " ---Had to say,

"Organic lady? This hamburger....
Hamburger from a cow.
Cows can not be planted.
Cow don't grow in the ground."

I do know what organic means.
I've seen the drama on tv.
The one on channel five at noon
We'll all be puffed up real soon.


Organics grow in pure dirt scenes.
A dirt so pure that it is clean.
One hundred plus percent this dirt.
You touch it and your hands won't hurt.
Just like an addict not on drugs.
Not even mixed with water-mud.
No froth..no scum...no shit in it.
Hell, you could even bathe in it.

People go for miles just to find that piece of earth.
The seeking and the searching is the reason for its worth.
You can't even touch it once you find it. Once you do,
you'll get your hands dirty. Then the dirt will not be true.
Touch it again?....now the dirt's dirty. Ain't that the rub.
That's how come organics are such expensive grub.

Ya'll got organic carrots, organic potatoes, lettuce and so on... basically... just double the price of the vegetables..
put em in a different package.
See what fools buy them.
I'm so fancy, got me an organic car-- 'Cause I'm on an organic trip.
Damn..I wish I had some organic gas to go with it.

I heard that word already too many times for my own likin'
And the kind a people usin it..i don't like em
Not happy with payin three dollars a gallon for gasoline
wanna pay more--got any organic sir?
Not happy with a aten dollar haircut.. got to be atleast 50 if not 100
ya'll want small meduim or large scissors.
I can cut up your wallet with either one.
Want an organic blow dry with that?
I'll leave on the dryer-press reverse
and suck it up---credit cards and all...
Want an organic permanent?
Won't get your wallet back.







Safe Volcanos



Know Lance, a man I chanced upon the net...
We penpals---ain't no more--to my regret.
Or was it that we met while in New York?
We skip to drinkin' cyber wine uncorked.

Won't further dislocate this odd acquaintance
In case this story's losing you your patience.
So Lance is lately looking for a place
To celebrate his weddin' date with Grace.

He's thinkin' of some Carribbean Islands,
Just not the office--hmm-no ties in Thailand.
He says that Monserrat has safe volcanos.
Way Grace and Lance vacate, I bet it blows.

The Yucatan, another possibility
Those sandy beaches slapped by tides of sea.
Another rainy day exotic joint.
But then again, the weather ain't the point.

It ever burns and bends to the agenda,
The buzz of dusty mopeds with their fenders
Be cruising watchin' ships from hilltop views.
A towel round her waist-- a private pool.

That tie around his neck, is barely loosened on a Sunday.
He takes it home to do, he will not leave it til the Monday.
A family man and then a sailor too.
It's docked upon a sea of midnight blues.

In the office all the day, a life of fixin' boxes.
Ain't got time to play. Stress ain't reduced--a lack of foxes.
Pulled in one too many odd directions.
Have you got time to finish these connections?

He can karate chop police
Within the law and out of reach
As in his class of ten the local force attend.
Choose a partner he can spar with til the end.

And then---what he's doin' nightly
Ain't no business of mine rightly,
But some parts of it, so finely has he penned,
That I take the time to read it once it's sent.

This an under-cover story
That I thought up for the glory.
I'll disclaim this information til the end.
Be dishonor if I broke this confidence.
And besides, if there's a cyber disagree--
I think, by chance, he's got some things on me.