The old preach to those who don’t give a shitas the young throw them out of their punk pulpit.Pop is a dream dreaming of popand what you can do and what the others could not. Some old stay youngand some young who never were get unceremoniously thrown.Sing the songs you love and ditch the ones …
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B+
There’s a drug going roundhere-a-bouts and round-a-whilelifting everyone off the groundwhile floating with a cardboard smile. Never dare to be downor you’re met with a frownor told chin upby addicts hooked. Facing facts is a fraud.Head in the sand, they applaud.Everyone on a merry-go-round.Truth is I’m iggy pop bored.
Political Football Commentary
Chances go begging for fateas street photographers get the shot too late.Soup kitchen protesters making an almighty dinend up under spin doctors’ knives sticking their fork tongues in.
from my balcony
flags flypresidents talkswallows swoopand people walk girls make passesdogs barktanks rolland cars park fag-ends burnsnipers shootrecords spinand loiters loot pop fans clamourstreet lamps shinewindows closeand lovers dine.
The Twilight Protests
Government policy forces pensioners onto the streets to marchhardly able to make it across the roadwith their gripes and groans in a shopping bag.Vinyl records blaring out from old peoples’ homes.Hospital porters spinning around on their bums.As, lurking behind, tape-measuring funeral directors lag.
Pleasure Pieland
On Pleasure Pielandislanders live life under a system called pie-in-the-sky.Plumbers fit pipe dreamsand statistics on counting your blessings are always high. Opticians sell rose-tinted glassesto see good things over the horizonand in every house, doors are fittedso that when one closes, another one opens. Every silver cloud has a golden liningand everyone’s glass is always …
The Railway Child
And so I went to the train stationand looked up at the great glass roof ceiling in ironfrom where timepieces hungand from where black suits swung. Leather-faced passengersshuffled slowly along in queues, bunched,with feet in their luggage up to their kneessticking out their ticket tonguesto have them punched. And when the announcement told mewhich platform …
Postcard Home
What gets my goat;A string of jealousies tangled in my throat.Sant’ Efisio’s bells strike twoand what the hell are you up to? Vagabond, bottle-necked in life, before me.What’s it like Mr Nobody?“It’s a life of shit!”My landlady, at the sink, spits. Whatever happens nextI wonder am I perplexed:Belongings bundled together on a stick;Should I be …
Black’n’White Flag
This life is doing me no good.I’m getting more and more bitter.If I were me I would,So I give up. I’m no quitter.
Trench Mentality
Keep away if you know what’s good for me.As welcome as the enemy.Wish there was some way to gag the voicesthat order me about like a headless chicken. You’ve got some front to shout what you shout.I’ve got no defence to rant what I rant.To get anywhere, I try to smoke myself outwith a fag …
