No Time

There is...
No time...
To Find ...
A rhyme...

Did you see...
The Irony...
In that...
verse and line...?

Three Score Years and Ten

Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?
Three Score Years and Ten and What Then?

Foxes Are Psychopaths

I am a novice
an apprentice
not completely
compus mentis

i have been told
foxes are psychopaths
and will kill a coop of chickens
for kicks and laughs

For the wall

I cried twice today. I was moved by a guy in a workshop who said "when I saw my mother die I knew life wasn't a swindle. immediately. Then twice the next day." I cried again at the Nigel Osbourne lecture when he spoke about symptoms of the physiological heart and the relationship of that and people who have had post traumatic stress disorder, and how you reduce cortisol (stress hormone) through music and affect blood pressure. It was EVERYTHING I had ever learned in personal research with M.E. friends and my own path in life. It was like listening to my own autobiography.

It made me feel how 'dispensing' music and art and craft to affect psyche and body. It just made me flood. It was BEAUTIFUL.

3.) The pulse in us, our cardiovascular system goes 60,000 miles round the earth. That is TWICE.

4.) We have lost touch with the rhythms of our own body as well as those of the seasons.

I'm sure this is repetition

At the narcolepsy agm they had four scribes to take the minutes.

We had one child called imogen as we were still imogening her.

moon

my style of playing guitar is better suited to the moon
because I thrash the fucking thing atonaly out of tune

and

My head's either in the clouds
Or up my arse if that's allowed
to be said

I can barely tidy up my flat

That bastard second verse

You and me
and a speak and spell machine -
Is what I have planned tonight.

A low bit rate
impossible words -
microphone and a pair of tights

A budgies beak
and some musical toysies
wind up handles
and plastic noises

I glitchily attempt to woo you
with my sad-core toy-fi powerbooky folky blues

Me and You
stylophone and a plastic zoo
Is what what we could do tonight

Cable ties round your thighs
Courage, skill, and might are all in sight

A tinny bassline and farmyard mammals
Why waste time? bring on sonic flannel

Sheep and cows bleat and moo too
In this toy fi melancholy requiem for two

female

I'm sexually
...Classically
...Female

But I've a beard
And enough hair
To clothe a blue whale

I like touches
very very muches

Fallout Map

My Dad's Advice on Broken Hearts

Dad: Thanks for the camera advice, you've fixed it Wilf! Well done!!!

Me: Glad to be of service

Dad: What's up with you then?

Me: Oh Dad I split up with (X)

Dad: Ahh well it was going that way anyway

Me: Thanks

Dad: ("helpfully" / poetically) "Here am I, broken hearted - paid a penny and only farted"

Me: ....

Gertrude and The Swan

A swan
Flew in and smashed
Through the windscreen
of Gertrude Effing's Van

It passed the driver
gearstick and rider and left
smashing out the back window

the police arrived
and were surprised
to see the swan unharmed

and i sing this
so i won't reminise
on your thousand charms

the swan was dazed
flapped in a haze
of dust and glass and feathers

It dusted itself
It's mental health
As tough as 12 ounce leather

Composure regained
With just minor sprains
flapping three four five feet higher

And I sing this
so I don't reminisce
on my pointless desire

There was no tale
As tall as this
Across the German nation

But it is true
And this swan flew
Back into V-formation

A letter "V"
provides lift you see
that's useful information!

Because you see
You lifted me
before rift and Separation

The Joy of Sex

As I approach middle age (i am 35, what is middle age anyway?) I realise my slightly greying locks and bearded appearance are making me look like either:

a) a podgier Robert Powell circa Jesus of Nazareth
b) The guy from the joy of sex drawings but with a bigger paunch and a flagging libido and not getting as much sex as him.

Going to the hospice

i'm going to the hospice
gonna get myself a dying one
gonna get myself perspective
cos we we are now defective

I'm going to the hospice
gonna get myself a sickly one
and i know what you are thinking
it's crass to put this in a song

but at the end of the day
we all end up this way
it's ok, oh it's ok
no choice just look at it that way

My 72 hours of lent

My 72 hours of Lent

Every time the phone rings
And every time a text message sings
All it seems to increase
Is the rate in which I cling

I cannot perform basic tasks
I am not calmed by taking baths
I have tried a number of different masks
but you right now just make me grasp

You will not see these verses
You will not hear my curses
You may visit me in recovery
With the lovesick nurses

I am not built for this terrain
My sanity is on the wane
This is worse this is worse
than flying on a dreaded plane

No one can deal with this type of man
Very few will understand
I am scared that you are scared
It does not bode well for your plans

I want your kindness and your lips
I want your sweetly smelling hips
I want the best, I need your breasts
I need your warmly glowing pips!

I want the witness to my life
It's just four weeks, where is my wife?
but it is a medicine for me
this mess is is ecstasy and strife

what she loves in me will kill us both
i am alive but i burn like toast
it takes a special kinda girl
to cope to cope to cope to cope

but i want a message every hour
if you are cooking or in the shower
for these digits have effects on me
a kiss me kill me kind of power

you are the only one who has seen
sides of me from drama queen
to energy which can impale you
clean right off the richter scale

as i sit under the covers, bent
typing this email IT MUST GO UNSENT
I must give up you for a few days
My 72 hours of Lent.

Everyone's an artist

Everyone’s an artist
Many songs, many musicians
Shouldn’t / should I start this?
Shelve my plans for Eurovision?

But if you do make space
I will not let you down
For my voluminous face
Will never drag you down

Hip Hop in the Northeast of England

Chris you have to remember not to rap this as it will sound like Goldie Looking Chain but worse.

The theme should be church-y?

When I were a lad, Hip-Hop WERE Hip-Hop
See Malcolm X preaching on Yorkshire Cliff Top!
So come back with me as we burn fifteen candles
(When I had a C.B. and I had my own handle)

A Verse and a curse, packed lunch and sandwiches
School boy and Sony would merge with the Bitches
But "Ho-s" and misogeny always felt wrong
(and I wanted to state that early in the song)

My-Black-Psalms-made-my-"friends"-restless
Their cultural zenith? Whitesnake and their set list!
And as they stacked shelves at weekends at Netto
I studied the scriptures of ghetto libretto

I took my Eucharist with P.E. and Def Jam
NWA and The Real Roxanne on
c-90 sermons with pent up performances
MY Sonic Sustenence and Hip Hop Hypothesese!

The only phat beetz around these parts
Grew in Saltburn allotments with artichoke hearts
I, Podgy-Faced Pioneer sticking to sea coal
Lonely Rap pilgrim, North East culture-hole

Obscuring the Sound of The Surf and the land
I fucked up my mum and dad's stereogramme
When trying to mix beats and with none of them matching
Offending my Gran with my ill fated scratching

See, there's one thing I have to tell you
I don't know if you heard don't know if you heard
It's that Hip Hop in The North East of England
Can be absurd Can be absurd

Now any good beat boy or girl will tell you that
The difference 'tween the hip hop and the rap
Hip Hop is the life and t'other's the song
I'd be really ashamed if I got this wrong

And even before they coined the term Bling
I didn't buy Gold or a cheap Ratner's ring
Hang with the homies that would have seemed mad to me
Besides, my town only had just one black family

So in the tradition of keeping it real
I did try some more on my school's reel to reel
I'd be lying when saying the results were spectacular
But I learned not to fuse rap with my vernacular

And as time went on it ocurred to me that
I never was going to carry a gat
And although, generally, I was in sonic heaven
I couldn't afford an AK47

My walkmans' headphones to my ear-bones alone
I thought of my friends with their dull metal clones
While I contemplated untied sneaker shoes
Forgive them f'ther for they know not what they choose.

possible midi to expand on :
http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/d/a/daretobe.htm

Ani, have you been to Patagonia?

No, but I have been to
Earth's Driest Place:
Chile's Atacama Desert

And Australia's Pinnacles of Nambung is nice.

So,
In the largest GYPSUM Dune
In the deepest crevasse
In the narrowest SLOT Canyon

And
Near the Earth's biggest MUSHROOM rock
And in superheated vents deep deep undersea
With BLIND shrimp and GIANT tube worms

Scientists think lightning switched on the PRIMAL SOUP.

The Joint Global Ocean Flux Study

Pacific Ocean Means Peaceful Ocean!
Rift Valleys and Fault Zones

The ice took on
The colours of the sun

Rose and reddish yellows
Weathering grey faces
Crystilline corners
Razored edges

Then I swam down to:
The Bentley Subglacial Trench
2537 Metres below sea level

Volcano Talk

THE VERY CONTOURS OF OUR WORLD
CAN CHANGE OVERNIGHT

MAGMA AND STEAM AND VOLCANIC ASH
FLINGING VAST QUANTITIES OF SUPERHOT ROCK

DECAPITATING A MOUNTAIN
LEAVING A HEADLESS BURNT OUT RUIN

YOU CAN STILL SEE THE MARKS ON THE HILLSIDE
WHERE THE FIGHT FOR LIFE TOOK PLACE