Latest Poems

Feb 4 2010

It's a new poem written for my seven deadly sin show - and it can be found in the second half, where we introduce potential new sins and get the audience to vote. Imporatant to read this one in a noel coward voice...

Slander and an after dinner mint
A dark shadow has started to secrete itself
Upon your fine veranda
So why not pour yourself a glass of vino
And enjoy a spot of slander
It’s like the roaring twenties
Everybody’s lapping up this naughty little sin
It makes you feel much bigger
And I don’t just mean your tiny thing…
It’s a jolly kind of past time
Like playing tennis on your own
Thwacking out the balls so hard
They can’t find their way back home.

You’ll see how good it makes you feel
When others start to sing your song
Who cares if it can ruins lives
Something so right, can't be that wrong.

It starts when you feel threatened
Someone attacks your silly pride
Leaves your ego running round and round
Looking for a safe place it can hide.
Best to brand the problem their fault
Stay on the clear and righteous side
And if you make their crime believable
You’ll soon forget you lied.
Yes indulge in a little slander
It’s nice from time to time
You’ll find it slips down smoothly
As you skip over that line.

Maybe you feel a tad insecure
When another woman pats your husband’s knee
That sort of thing can really undermine
At least romantically.
If you paint her as a femme fatale
You can side-step any tasteless jealousy
Just start some juicy gossip
That backs up your preferred reality.

It’s just a spot of slander
Helps you get the upper hand in any fight
Politicians have been using it for centuries
And they still sleep at night.

When a good friend attacks your standing
And pointout where you’re failing
Just take a back stab at their reputation
And give it a good nailing
Why not mention their name and pedophilia
Because from then on it’s plain sailing.
Oh it’s a cunning little parlour trick
That can bring a good man down in 20 words
Leave his reputation exposed and bleeding
His carcass picked at by the birds.
You can make a scoundrel out of angels
If fault is all you choose to see
It’s all about selecting the right ingredients
To stir into your perception recipe
Vilify and gossip,
Besmear, besmirch and scandalise
If you do it with conviction
They won’t see the devil in your eyes
Yes indulge in a spot of slander
It doesn’t really matter why or who
Just keep on shoveling out the shit
So no one tracks it back to you.

Jan 7 2010

it's just a silly little poem which somehow wanted to be written.

Bugel Alert

I read on facebook that you’re in love again
You have a heart below your name
Smiley faces and exclamations marks
Plus lots of supportive one-line remarks

I didn’t think that I would care
But it’s quite a shock to see it there
Spelled out in binary – with widget finery

On first sight my attention locked
I tried to shrug it off but I was rocked
So I went to make a cup of tea
Pretended it didn’t bother me.

This new love of yours – the pride you feel
I know this time it must be real
You’ve blown a horn, sounded a bugle
It has come up in a search on google
It’s like you’ve won a special race
It’s all over twitter and My Space

I’m pleased for you – I say as much
I endorse with a single keyboard touch
I write good words, I feel no blame
I hide behind my pseudo-name.

Out in the real world
My heart coughs up the last dregs of pain.

When did life become a computer game?

Dec 7 2010

The Living Beard

I know I shouldn’t stop
I know I shouldn’t stare
But I am addicted to the thrill
Of his exciting facial hair
Like the matted belly of a bear
It tells me to beware
The red ringed eyes
See-through skin
Reveal a hunger deep within
And his desperate threatening need
Makes my feet increase their speed
But my eyes are so entranced
Gulping in with every glance
The beauty of the wonderful and weird
That goes into making
Such a beard

There are bones in that beard
Actual bones in that beard
Of tiny insects and of mice
Bits of old curry, manky rice
Not to mention mutant lice
There is life in that beard
There is LIFE in that beard

There is fear in that beard
‘Don’t get too near’ in that beard
There are years in that beard
Of drunken leers in that beard
There are tears in that beard
For all the years spent with fear
Wearing fur from ear to ear

There are dreams in that beard
Dipped in blood, dipped in piss
Dreams of all the things he missed
And the ghosts that he wears
Are screaming coldly in the snare
Of his fantastic facial hair

There is vomit in that beard
Aging vomit in that beard
Flakes of skin, drops of gin
Remnants of the bets he did not win
Tobacco, pins, ground in pot
Highs and lows
That keeps life slow, keep life hot
Shield him from his own dry rot
And all the dust from everyone that he’s forgot

For there is a wife behind that beard
Or at least another life behind that beard
That he is trying to escape
Bury, shake or suppress
A mouldy, skuzzy, memory mess
Trapped under facial fancy dress

There is a kid in that beard
Buried deep behind that beard
A young man with some ambition
Hiding inside this tramp with malnutrition

And I somehow get the sense
That the beard is just a disguise
A veil covering everything but his eyes
So no one sees him as he begs
Or chokes on the special brew’s empty dregs

Shoppers just totter off in disgust
Afraid of this piece of human rust
Or like me, stand stunned for a moment at the sight
Of this pungent facial fright

We don’t see the man
Who’s been forgotten

Just smell the beard that’s going rotten.

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