Poles apart but it’s cool

I met a city female from
A different frequency
Do not even know
what number it was..
Hoping for a blockbuster
But got He-man 3

She was full of angst
I was not
She kept checking phones
Mine was off,
She looked very average
But in photos she’s hot.

Only so much juice
I want to get her
Sober little pout
When I am on the
Jamaican Dragon Stout.

And then she was surprised
When I left to see the lads,
To have some ‘fun’.
Something she couldn’t give,
So I linked the mandem
for a good ol’ Belgian bun!

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Filed under Art, Birmingham, blog, colour, diversity, England, life, light, live, London, love, nature, nostalgia, Poem, poetry, race, reflection, romance, romanticism, uk, verse

Tory-funded Labour youth

Lock up blue parents
On voting day,
And you stop
Two votes for them!

Gain independence,
Earn your own cash,
Then the labour youth
Won’t need tory funding

Youth, pay your taxes
The system needs it,
Or don’t moan of
Poor public services

This son of a factory man,
Grandson of a foundry man,
Won’t need to convince his lot,
Redder than red to the end

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Dream fears

Started to see them
And they’re not pretty,
Trauma but no unit
To fix this scarey shit

Why did I turn on
This dream mode again?!
Nightmarish dreams
But don’t want to label
them that nasty N-word

Different monsters
Appear every night
But now I remember
In the morning light

It WAS only a dream
But why was it mine?!
Now I know why
I switched them off
Fuck off bad dreams
I just want to sleep

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Filed under Art, Birmingham, blog, England, life, light, live, London, meditation, mindfulness, nature, nostalgia, Poem, poetry, reflection, uk, verse, Vipassana

Eye of the tory

Disdainful looks
At potential immigrants
Or anyone different

Piercing blue uncompassion
Don’t ask them
For directions!

They think you are
Diluting their
Dusty old money

Fat aristocratic prats
Never laboured
In their lives

Ignore the blue ties
You’ll spot them
From their eyes

(Cartoon by Dave Brown. Exhibited at The Political Cartoon Gallery, Putney in 2017. All copyrights are his, cheers Dave! )

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Climbing out of valleys/ The only way is up, baby

We escaped the city freaks
Now surrounded by misty peaks
Suddenly feel so small
Would it hurt if I did fall?
I need clean air to save me.
“The only way is up, baby!”
Said a philosopher called Yazz.
This land got serious pizazz!
But I cannot read it’s signs
Their language is not mine
Compass needle spins around
Causing friend to frown,
As we search for
words with vowels.
The cigars are for the top
That hope will never stop.
But fuck the dark city alleys
I’m happy climbing out of valleys

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George Formby cures

George Formby films
Are my hangover cure
They always make me
Laugh very hard
Giving me a boost
And a smile on my face
When he talks to
The moon about her!
And the naughty shit
That he saw while
He’d clean the windows.
I couldn’t give a fock
About blackpool rock
Apart from when he
Sings about it!

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Forever young

I fuckin wish!
Aches from injuries
Of youth and stupidity
Visit more often
Becoming close pals
We laughing
About the past
Youth didn’t last
As long I thought
We all need more
I aint sitting
Around crying
The aches move
And travel around
In me, a reminder
From the self that
The body is mortal
Like everybody else

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