Tag Archives: poet

Middle of the afternoon

In the middle of the afternoon on the highstreet
and it’s raining and there’s a strong breeze blowing
my jacket behind me.
Poeple around me walking with umbrellas folded
up, business men with rain macks running for
shelter and mums dragging their childrens behind
and straight into a clothes store and out of the
crappy weather.

A bike comes speeding by me holding leather
hand bag in one hand and a can of Monster
in the other, he rides through a puddle and splashes
me in the face as he speeds on by.

“STOP HIM, HE’S GOT MY BAG”
a woman screams behind me as i carry on walking
but i don’t pay any attention and i just carry on
like nothing happens and two young girls run past
me and then stop on the corner with their hands
on their heads as i turn into the pub.

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Death in the village

I was walking through the village centre on the weekend
looking for a pub and it was one of those hot days
the ones where all you want to do is lie down and
look up at a ceiling until you pass out for 12 hours.

I look over the other side of the road to see a small
crowd gathered around what looks like a man laying
flat on the pavement, everyone is around him holding
there phones in their hands and in the middle of a
chat.

A man with a dog stands on stares
a man and his daughter stand and stare.

I go into the pub and put down three beers
and I leave after about an hour
I look over the other side of the road to see
if the man is still there and he is but the
crowd has gone, there’s an ambulance near
by and men and women in green uniforms
stand around him and now there’s a sheet
covering him.

A police car and black car pull up right next
to the man and people walk on by turning
their heads to take a look as they walk into
the stores and carry on their day.

The man is put on a stretcher and put into the back
of the black car and taken away and everyone
keeps walking and shopping like nothing
has happened.

What a way to live

It’s not a gold plated sort of place
it’s never to going be a monochrome jewel
of a experience.
Just a solid 8 hour day.
Surrounded by old metal and rusty
machines
and that’s when you can find yourself
staring at a poster with a bored little
pug who’s been put on trial.

What a way to live
what a way to laugh.

This little dog is a not a god
But a pet going down for 10 years
a life time for the poor little dog.

What a way to live and laugh.

Go to the pub

I think I’ve seen the world for
what it really is.
I don’t have to go to a war
zone or a country with
horrible poverty, I can see it’s
evil when I get up in the morning
and go to the shops
or go to work
or go to a pub.
I hear what that man says while
he’s sitting at the end of the
bar speaking nonsense about
how his wife can’t cook a decent
meal and she just keeps
nagging and nagging and
nagging at him.
And then he gets up drunk and
staggers home.

Out the window for now

Sometimes your passions will be
thrown out the window.
You’ll get home from work and sit
on the sofa and wonder what the
fuck to do.
So you’ll just zone out in front
of the TV and drink beer and
eat food and wake up the next
day and repeat the whole thing
over again.

That thing
that passion will just be a
memory when you start arguing
over the phone because you’re
being billed too much for your
broadband.

Streets so empty

It strange how you can walk down
a street full of people and turn a
corner and the street is empty and
only the sound of the wind
blowing through it.

I was walking through the town
walking past where Red Hot once
stood
by the saxophone man
by the homeless man with a
dog
by the bars playing funk
music and reggae
people walking by me fast and slow
laughing and singing
the view of the big wheel in front of me
and then I turn left and everyone is
gone.
All I hear is the sound of the bars
and the saxophone.

Where did everyone go?
How can I walk through a street
full of life and then turn a corner
and see nothing but emptiness?

I look around and all I see is my
shadow in front of me and I can
hear the faint sound of my footsteps
and they only get louder the further
I get away from the street
that’s full.
But it’s ok, I only have to turn left again
and head down a street full of rowdy
people pouring out the pubs and
avoiding a man sitting on the corner
with an empty cup.