I'm Back for a Brand New Attack (or something)

It's been ages since I posted anything, so here's a few tidbits.

This is a poem about waiting for your phone to vibrate, waiting for a message from your special person.


Waiting For the Buzz

Waiting for the buzz
that’s coming,
Wearing wings
or fins
(or something).
Who am I against this woman?

She is rather bold
(as brass),
Timid, kind,
Strong and funny.
A great petite tiger,
With the purr of a Persian cat,
Sat
on a steam train
that’s trailing off honey.
The windows are
maple leaves
and outside
it’s sunny.

Yet, in my chest
it is brass monkeys.
As cold as gold
bricks
shining, shimmering,
A trembling hand
that’s won
big winnings.

Who am I without this woman?
Waiting for a buzz
(that’s coming).

A villain
or a fiend
(or somone).
She can change my heart
from black,
Back to red
and back intact.
With her
I feel like
a comic book hero
on a tandem to Happiness
with Helen Shapiro.

Ramblings, randomly
assembled thusly.

Here’s the buzz.
From her?
It must be!

This is a new folk band from England called Dry the River. This video shows an interesting poster campaign they did with tin cans that played their song.

Lastly, is Clive Anderson's BBC Radio 4 show Loose Ends. Amongst the guests in this episode is the punk poet John Cooper Clarke. It'll expire sometime, but the show's good to look up anyway, whoever's on it. It's a big mix of things every week.

Loose Ends (with John Cooper Clarke guesting)

Hope you like it!

A poem by me. Penguin (Green Strawberry)

A poem for the Chi. By me!

Penguin (Green Strawberry)

My Japanese chrysanthemum,
My English rose!
Our love is a
Green strawberry.
Green strawberries will grow.

The Night

Three short poems that I turned into one. I don't know whether it's corny or not, but I like it.

The Night

I love the night

and her surprises,

all her mysteries

and guises.

What does she hold?

The moon and the stars,

and bats that hang

from window ledges,

then fall into her arms.

So, how can I close the curtains,

and shut out

all those stars?

Deny the night

my room’s dim light

and deny my room

her charms.

For the Clown

A poem I thought of about a cartoon type painting I'm doing.

For the clown

you see, it's hard

finding words

to fix a heart.

We Are Amused

Chiharu is Japanese and when we were in a bar one time, and I'd let my stubble grow a bit too long, she started pointing at my chin, saying "Red, brown, black, gold" etc. It was the first time  I'd noticed that I had different coloured beard hairs. It was a big novelty for her. It's one of my favourite memories, since it made me chuckle!


Counting my whiskers, 
which've grown far too long, 
as if they're autumnal maple leaves -

"Red, brown, gold,
 red, brown, gold,
 red, brown, gold,
 red, brown, gold,"
 
scarcely believing 
her eyes aren't in wrong, 
it appears she's amused 
and amusingly pleased!

Bare Branches

This is a short poem I wrote trying to finish another one. I like this one better though!

Autumn's here,
avert your stare,
the trees have stripped
their branches bare.
Their leafy robes
lie everywhere.

A Couple More Poems (Less good ones! Ha ha!)

I'm not so sure anyone will like these, but I do, so I thought I'd stick them up here.

Strange

Stranger,
you're a  friendly face.
No stranger
than the human race.


My Poem, My Rules

Concrete is not an
attractive material.
A meal after morning
should not involve cereal.
A rabbit or pig
does not need a lead.
These are my rules -
the world should take heed.
Sweetcorn's a veg and a
fruit and a seed.

A Couple of Poems

These are just a couple that I've had in the notes section on my phone for a while. One is about 2 business men (salary men in Japan) dropping their coins everywhere in the supermarket (again and again and again!) and the other's about feeling a bit down one night, a long time ago, and the power of tea to cheer you up!

All Over the Place

Two salary men,

With bright red faces,

Dropping coins

All over places.
Thinking the checkout

Might be a bar - 

I think they've already 

Been for a jar.

The SS Cuppaty

Night has fallen

and all at sea,

with broken sails,

I'll make some tea.


An additional note - when Asian people have been drinking, they sometimes get red faces and 'jar' is British slang for a pint of beer (although it's not massively common to hear it said).

A Few of My Least Favourite Things

I was thinking about the song 'My Favorite Things' from 'The Sound of Music'  and wrote this. I thought it was funny, but I would appreciate comments. It's not definitely finished. A couple of the references are Japanese ones, but most are just general things that annoy me!

These are just some

of my least

favourite things.

Big Chinese spoons

that spill soup

down my chin.

Two holes for recycling

that go in

the same bin.

Volume controls

that don't do

what they should.

When I step in

a poo,

when I thought

it was mud.

Concrete

soul-prisons,

which I wish

could be brick.

When I must be

polite,

when I think

you're a...

moron.

Two hours to go,

with the onset

of boredom.

Walking 

and txting

and stepping

in sick.

Second-hand goods,

which should

have a cord on.

Big dogs

in front gardens

(some owners are thick!).

When my watch

rubs the hairs

on the side 

of my wrist.

Having to clean

when there's folks 

who made robots.

Ruling supreme, but

still feeling

like no-one.

Laziness,

apathy,

procrastination - 

that means

every morning

I run

to the station.

People who push 

into queues

for the train.

When people

curse sunshine

and then curse

the rain.

Groups who walk slowly,

the breadth of the street.

I want to stick

drawing pins

into their feet.

Things I won't kill,

but can fly

and can hurt me.

The impulse to kill

that can make me

feel guilty.

Kids who forgot

about Burt,

about Ernie,

about Egon Spengler

and Penfold

(THAT hurts me!!!)

My favourite

auld trainers,

at the end 

of their life!

How to 

dispose of 

an old rusty knife?

Putting my fingers

through cheap

toilet paper.

Never doing 

stuff now...

then not doing it 

later.

Laughing and making

the noise of a pig.

Things that are small

that should really

be big.

When I get

pins and needles

and my foot

starts to float.

Scraping

dried food,

that's not mine,

off my coat.

A kid at the zoo, who

just wants to see goats.

You smokers think

maybe

you can waft all 

the smoke

away from my eyes

and my nose

and my throat.

When elderly people

don't know 

they're half deaf,

yet they hear

every word

like the wind's

wispy breath.

When the tock-ticking

clock

keeps me awake,

but it's troublesome

moving it

further away.

Toddlers with shoes

that go squeak when

they step.

The annual boil

that engulfs

half my neck.

Having to stare

at a strip

of material

stretched to it's limit

round a stomach

that's spherical.

The grossness 

of treading

on slugs

when they pop.

The big sniff

that gives me

a mouthful of snot.

Plug-hair

paranoia

that my hairline's

grown thin.

A civilisation

of flies in my bin.

Big spiders.

Pop Idol.

Having to sing.

These are just some

of my least

favourite things.

3 Colours Brown

The leaves have lost their colour,

That I picked up off the ground.

Their colours numbered three before,

But now they're only brown.

A Girl Like You

I want a girl

with your complexion,

A girl unhindered

by correction,

I want to wallow 

in your words,

I want to drown 

in your affection.

Japan-Bees

Bees here have massive big shadows,

I don't think a shadow should be

Cast from them 

Like they're stealth bombers,

Shadows from bees

Should not be.

Like Cats and Mice

They are thin.
They are fat.
They eat like mice.

They eat like cats.
They should eat more

Food that's BIG!

They are greedy

Like a PIG!

I wrote it the other day, but I don't know if it's good or not. It's just meant to be funny.

It's a roll over! And Cut Glass and Whine.

I was going to write about the artists from yesterday, but I'm so very very tired and need to sleep!  So, I'll do that tomorrow and here's a poem instead. I had it jotted down in the notes section of my phone and kept coming back to it. The photo was from me playing with my new camera. The face is me and the body is Chiharu - I didn't steal her clothes! The poem's not about me and Chi though, it was just about the word play really but it's also about getting drunk and complaining. It's happened to the best of us!

Cut Glass and Whine


I have been cut.
The glass has been cut.
I am half-cut.


For anyone who doesn't know, 'half-cut' means drunk or a bit drunk. 

A Fine Distraction

I don't remember when I wrote this, but it's my longest I think.

Will you be a distraction
From important matters?
Or from a film,
With endless natter?
Will you be the distraction
That sends me into a post?
Or out of my mind?
What matters the most
Is will you be a distraction
From all things saintly?
Would you sing love songs aloud
If I were chanting through vows
In a monastary, so faintly?
Will you be the distraction
That keeps me looking?
Missing sight of a missile,
And stops me from ducking?
Will you be a distraction
that walks me into a pond?
Or sits me still in a room,
Longing for you,
So fond.
Will you be the distraction
That forces tears
From my eyes?
Or prevents me
From hurling me
Off a high high-rise?
Will you be a distraction
That turns my head in a crowd?
Will you be a distraction
That'll give me a shroud
Of warmth when it's cold?
Or makes me turn off UK Gold?
Or draws my attention
So I trip over my feet
And fall arse over
Elbow in the street?
Will you be the distraction
That makes a steady life falter?
Will you be the distraction
That makes me run from the altar?
Or makes me laugh
By overhearing
That you'd call your son Walter?
Will you be a distraction,
When I want beans in a tin,
That makes me pick up one
With sausages in?
Will you be the distraction
That makes me fail my degree
By twiddling the tips
Of your collar at me?
Will you be a distraction
From chronic back pain
That sends me out
Dancing into the rain?
With nothing but socks
And a wide brimmed hat on!
Will you be my distraction?

This Punctured Sky

"Oh dear, it looks like the rainy season." said Pooh-san.

 

A crack of thunder,

A bolt of light,

And we two under

(with coats pulled tight)

this punctured sky,

That rain falls through, tonight.

En-Joyed

I am en-joyed
To be in your presence,
Like a lamb
to be in his flock,
Like a snug flake of chocolate
in the crease of a cushion,
Like a fool 
at the helm of a yacht! 




The photo was taken on our way to Disney Land in Tokyo I think.

The Silver Cat

This was a request from my sister. It's from when I was watching a cat out of the window of my student house in Maidstone.

A cat sits on a breeze-block,
On a wet patch of grass,
Lapping milk from a saucer
Like wine from a glass.

A Poem What I thought Of!

A chance perspective,
In perpetuality.
Neither the laws of art nor physics
Freed her arms from me;
And for that
I can think
To thank only the heavens
In spirituality. 

Waiting For a Train

Here's a poem I wrote a few months ago. I'm going to have to try harder to write poems or I'm going to run out! This was just some drunk guy that was standing and swaying, looking at the ground, on a train station platform. It's not menat to be a comment about Japan. It could be anywhere. I keep changing the title, but right now it's called Waiting for a Train -

Staring at a spot he is,

As if he's gotten lost in it,

As if a mystery to him,

As if there's something

in there for him.

As if a picture of his love,

Lost then, as if he'd lost a limb.

His eyes well-weathered,

As the coast.

His lips are crumbling and thin.

His words are ghosts

And they're gone,

Up towards the mountains 

And the woods.

They're not for us;

No longer his.

And now he's swaying

on a platform,

Staring at a spot he is.