Category Archives: Poetry

You Are Not My Leader

A good friend of mine is once again taking part in a community song writing event called FAWM.org. Having collaborated a few times over the years we decided to try again, so without further ado please take a listen to You Are Not My Leader.

Lyrics:

Don’t fill our heads
with all these lies
then ask the people
to decide.

Don’t turn your back
dare walk away
You lit the paper
and made us pay

Ripped apart
at the seams
the world I knew
now stands and screams.

You are not my leader

The books you read
were free to you
your sense of worth
has been abused

Fake news
Alternate facts
Fleet Street
Phone hacks.
Social news
24/7
You pray to God
But there is no heaven.

Your face and name
on everything
Turn off my TV screen,
turn off my stream

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50 Shades of Ken

Some more writing for FAWM15. Draft musings that I thought I’d publish.

50 Shades of Ken

He cuts a figure
the shape of “O”
All hulked and hunched up
He’s feeling low.

She will not touch him.
He knows not why.
Been reaching for her
but she’s out tonight.

Shrugs off the covers
picks up a pen
torn scraps of paper
become a gem.

She wants attention
it cannot be.
The words are flowing
and he’s out to sea.

His phone is buzzing
His eyes aglow
New friends and faces.
Starts saying “no.”

She sits in waiting
For him to call
All slight and smoking
Staring at the wall.

He carries himself now
there’s no more need
All proud and puffed up
Alone but freed.

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Someday

Marvellous musician and all round good guy Greg Lines is once again taking part in February Album Writing Month. A fun challenge to aspiring songsmiths everywhere to complete an album within the month of February.

As has become (almost) tradition, I’ve thrown words at Greg to see if any of them stick. These ones did, and you can hear the results, er, here.

Enjoy.

Original lyrics

Chance encounter on a speeding train
A smile reflected
and I mispronounced your name.

We took a chance along uncharted lines
Speeding headlong
No time to read the signs.

It used to be One Day,
Now it’s Someday.

Days rushed passed in a haze of lust
Catching a breath
taking stock of them and us.

It used to be One Day,
Now it’s Someday.

Taking every moment to slow down time
We consumed the days
like bottles of wine

We used to believe, we would live forever
Now you say “goodbye”
instead of “see you later.”

It used to be One Day,
Now it’s Someday.
It used to be One Day,
Now it’s Someday.

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Terry, Jeff, Colin and Bob

Terry, Jeff, Colin and Bob went to sea in a rancid boat.
They took some jerky and plenty of Bud,
all wrapped in a t-shirt (covered in mud.)

Colin looked over to Bob on his left,
as they nodded then bellowed an ode to Terry ‘n’ Jeff.

“O’ Terry and Jeff, Teff and Jerry, what wonderful friends you are,
you are, you are, you are.”

Then Terry looked at Jeff and Jeff looked at Terry,
before both of them sicked-up on Bob’s shoes.
Yes both of them sicked-up on Bob’s shoes, his shoes.
Yes both of them sicked-up on Bob’s shoes.


Another week another slice of Friday Flash Fiction over at Rochelle’s blog. This week I bring you this piece of randomness based purely on the fact that the Owl and the Pussycat jumped straight into my brain-box when I saw the photo.

I can but apologise to what I have done to that wonderful nonsense poem.

boatpilxr_-antiqued

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Balsa Wood

Balsa wood doesn’t rot

Does it not?

Apparently not.

How much have you got?

How much of what?

Balsa wood (that doesn’t rot).

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