Double ‘A’ Side Singles

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This first is about dying from cancer. I wrote it for a guy called Richard in 2000. I didn’t know him that well but I was struck by the fact that at 40 he was dying from cancer. I smoke so always that nagging feeling that this could one day happen.

The Great Disappearing Man

He’s quite a spectacle as he wastes away.
Savings under the mattress for a rainy day
Going up in smoke for all to see.
Bugger-all hope in his battle to be
The Man who Came Back from Death’s Door
To a standing ovation and round of applause

But, as visiting hours take their toll
And he’s turned over to a drum roll
The grand finale, the final act
Leaves the spectators wearing black

I wrote this second poem in 2011 when I’d been having a few gout attacks and also thought I might have athritis. Times I really struggled to walk. I wrote this poem on the back of that. Influenced by Blur and Britpop and songs like ‘Ernold Same’ and ‘Arnold Sane’. The song has Chicco Fresu putting music to it with me finding the melody and singing (obviously influenced by Damon Albarn). Chicco’s guitar solo is great, as he said ‘I just imagined the shooting pain of athritis.’ Song from 2016.

ARTHUR I. TUSS

Struggles off the bus
With his pass and a fuss.
Fought in France and Italy I’ll have you know!

Full of pride and swollen ego,
He widowers down the street.
Every foot a mile with his feet.

Deadly I was, used to knock’em in!
Visited of an afternoon by his next of kin.
Snapshots of better times on the mantelpiece.

Literally seconds having settee-slumped down for a little peace
Does he pull himself back up back to the kitchen for the tea-spoon;
Thank bugger, me ‘ome ‘elp ‘ll be ‘ome soon!

Published by aprettykettleofpoetry

John Di Girolamo was born during the swinging middle ages as the Battle of Hastings raged outside on a cold, miserable Saturday evening just outside 'The Juggler's Arms' in Oxford, Torquay and Exeter at the same time. Born to a family, he spent most of his early years learning how to open umbrellas for a rainy day, and the runnings of horses and sword swallowers and the costs they incurred. Having graduated in 'Circus Management', he took to spinning plates for a living and persuaded his father to buy a restaurant to fund what he believed would be a lucrative career move. However, in the the days leading to The Age of Post Punk', he quit and would embark upon what was to go down in history doodles as a notebook. Few knew it then but he had already started copying poetry, and often written by other people. As the minutes passed by, and Sardinia loomed, the idea of collages and drawings suddenly hit him as a way of filling up what had become a kind of book with pages and all. One day while storming off in a huff because his mum told him to, he struck upon the idea of putting it all together over a long-playing record (later a CD) and during a commercial break in the digital age, decided a blog would end Cromwell's ill-fated republic. Sent off by recorded post, it would be by chance that his poems would get to their ultimate destination as, meanwhile, his pigeon who had queued so loyally for so long, sadly died the day before it was sacked.

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