Monthly Archives: August 2013
Matt Spicer – It’s Not Me It’s You (2013)
family planning with Donald Duck
the defining spark
those roots grab you back
coffin laden on barley
lifted on the wind,
your voice i heard once
as cars exploded on the streets
and police batons fell,
i grew listening to you
embracing my heritage
not strangers to a landscape,
scattered with grass seed
upon heavy peat bogs,
alone with your pages
paper yellowing in the sun
i got to know what
rhythm made the music inside
and caught magical light,
you where a viking
a warrior of words
forged by the great anvil,
i still read you
as many do
your place is deeper
than sinew and bone
you are a molecule
of a fresh soul
coming to a brighter
day
Seamus Heaney
1939-2013
Can’t sleep………………………………………………..
Then i saw you at 5 am as i could not sleep anymore what a world we live in
I can’t sleep. Not quite an unusual occurrence as it may seem. My daughter brought it on tonight, she is 11 years old and has hit puberty with a wallop, i don’t like her at the moment sad to say, she is nasty, foul mouthed, contrary, if i say it’s black she say’s it’s white, parents every where will understand. She also has problems sleeping, it all stems from her having to sleep in our room until she was 6, our house is on the small side, 3 adults and 3 kids and only 3 bedrooms, until we went up into the loft. The boys are up there and she now has the box room, read ‘cant swing a cat room’ and she has tried! I think she misses the company, tonight she went to bed at 9pm and was still not settled at 11.30 so now i can’t sleep…
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jamie and the 31p cornflakes
you food preacher,
man of spatula skills
appear on lcd tv
and tell us of our food
our lifestyle,
congested lungs and stomach
and inability to feed ourselves,
the benefit louche
and disposable low income,
our world has no michelin stars
siting over
wild tarragon and mussels
instead kebabs or chip shop,
waste of money to some
but we need to live as well
already ghettoized
by paparazzi
obese and slovenly,
try finding money for electric
meter
or 52 inch tv,
we are human remember
lives of our own
and those to be born,
stigmata
of minimum wage
and rent overpriced,
come into our world
if you must
but do not preach or condemn
you can never understand
Jamie Oliver
31p Cornflakes
soup in cans
history cannot be muted by a kiss
butterflies will not drown in your drink
dark streets do not betray your shadow
he strokes her fragrance
with a soft inhale,
a kitchen room
cabinets stove fridge and sink
table center
soup can next to opener,
between them,
the earth has not fallen
yet still they stare
not at each other
but at the can
silver topped paper wrapped,
blood smears oceans
and desert sand,
wine flavored tongues begin to talk,
as they decide
stripped of it’s cloth
the table was bare and knotted,
around her shoulders
cloth placed
as they found out about
soup and why it was in
can
some things
ceiling needs painting
was said
and layers of love and roses
made it right
and a smile
still appears
19 Years
my thoughts assembled
the largest of them all
was one of knowing
billowing fulfilled,
she was more than a voice
heard on the soundscape
of my ears
this thought entitled me
to love to adore,
between sun and moon
a radiance of woman,
my sky lead a path
to a new future,
behind doors within
my skull
songs rung out
telling me of what i was aware
we wanted the journey to begin
more than love, more than lust
bonded and entwined,
time is better
with a companion
and mine travels well
Karen and Me
Today our anniversary and still in love more than ever
