Monday 30 November 2009

Orbison Orbs

I’ve got Orbison Orbs
I’ve gotta wear shades
It’s NOT over
Unless they’ve made
A mess of both o’
My Orbison Orbs

I’ve got Orbison Orbs
I’m scared of the light
Like a vampire
I can only see at night
Please don’t light my fire!
Cos I’ve got Orbison Orbs

I’ve got Orbison Orbs
Since the laser op
They made me see red
I wished it would stop
Surgeon said, ‘DON’T MOVE YOUR HEAD!’
Or you’ll always have Orbison Orbs

I’ve got Orbison Orbs
I can’t see clearly now
I hope there’s no rivers to cross
If not, I’ll get there somehow
Straining to read out this dross
With my Orbison Orbs!

1183 - Blurry logic

Why is my left eye blurred? If only it
Was as clear as my right, my sight would be
Just as the surgeon promised - near perfect
I’m hoping it’s still recovering. The
Op isn’t one I’d like to repeat. Free
Today - off sick - but I am pondering -
Could I cope, driving the M53?
There’s a gig at the Moreton Arms, reading
Poetry, not music. Risky, straining
My eyes to drive and to read. I promised
A friend I’d make it up there; worried he
Would feel let down if I don’t. So, planning
To call on my Mum first, then to visit
The Moreton Arms - an evening’s poetry

1182 - True gritty eye

My sight’s improved a bit, slowly, today
Spent last night in occasional agony
My eyeballs felt like eggs a fryin’; they
Turned in their sockets and looked back at me
Sorely tempted to scream, ‘Out, vile jelly!’
But couldn’t cause a scene; we can’t be seen
To disturb the flats’ night-time peace, can we?
Got back off, somehow. Happily seein’
My waking time was nearly ELEVEN! -
I rose, my eyelids opened gingerly,
Releasing waterfalls. Daylight, telly
Too BRIGHT, dammit! Curtains drawn; football’s been
On the radio as I dozed… Then, hey!
Felt much better! Picked up guitar and PLAYED!
Sunday 29 November

Saturday 28 November 2009

1181 - In my line of fright

Mine eyes have seen the gory coming of
The laser beams, the smell of burning eye
Balls in their sockets, uncomfortable, rough
As the eye surgeon pressed and rubbed them. I
Don’t see what could be worse, except maybe
Giving birth, excluding bad accidents
And death, of course. Don’t play me at I spy
From next week on, though, oh ladies and gents
For I will whup your ass. You should be tense
When you pass by, for I will see enough
Detail that I may even qualify
For X-ray, X-rated visual sense!
Such nonsense, you say, but I see above
And beyond, for miles. Like The Who, am I…

1180 - Apocalyptical illusion

During a break from ‘Apocalypse Now’
I’m jotting this on a pad, and it’s hard
I can’t see in close-up; with furrowed brow
I’m trying to focus on my own words
They say I’ll need glasses to write and read
No longer short-sighted, now long-sighted
How has it been reading the screen? Untried
Could feel better tomorrow, but frightened
It might get more painful as day lightens
I might be worse; my eyes might hurt, and how
In the afternoon, I was tired and bored
Eye drops every four hours, stay clear-sighted
Not too painful after the eye op now
And so, time for bed; hope I catch some zeds…
Friday 27 November

Thursday 26 November 2009

1179 - Fee fi fo strum

Last day before the eye op, so I hope
I’ll see clearly and the rain will have gone
Tomorrow I’ll go there, then home I’ll grope
My way, rather like that Sinatra song
Still, four or five days off work won’t be wrong
Even though I’ll miss Friday’s Jez Kyle Show
(My comedy fix) Tonight, did three songs
At a guitar club, and again I’ll go -
With a mike my still, small voice doesn’t show
It boosts my confidence; I interlope
My way to the front, turn into King Kong
And with guerrilla fingers start to mow
My way through the classics, and somehow cope
Expressing myself in the house of fun!

Wednesday 25 November 2009

1178 - The Oxford Street beat

I’m walkin down the street, down Oxford Street
The students in their hordes they pass me by
I’m walkin there to meet, down there to meet
One of them, and her friends, wanna know why?
To catch some music, enthusiastically
Performed by former fans turned performers
Performed by some who were formerly shy
Maybe still are, killing it to sing verse
Chorus verse middle eight, so well-rehearsed
Learned from their spurning, turned around to beat
The bad vibe, on the beat, nothing’s easy
Repeat dose, tap feet, laptop universe
Happy, rapping, tapping guitars; complete
Variety down Oxford Street… Oh, hi!!!

Tuesday 24 November 2009

1177 - Back, back, back to Iraq

Come on, we're going back, we're going back
Keep up, you at the back, keep up, keep up
This time, unlike before, we will not slack
And this time there won't be a cover-up
We'll get down to the bottom, from the top
Of why we went there, what we went to do
Freedom to spread, dictatorship to stop
Or simply doing what they told us to?
Rest assured, we won't rest till what was true
Is surely uncovered, while pools of black
Oily lies will be washed away, each drop
Though a red stain remains, stuck dead like glue
Come on now boys, we're back off to Iraq
For a year or more. Hup two three four, hup!

Monday 23 November 2009

1176 - A hard rain has fallen

Dylan's hard rain has fallen, sure enough
The worst of it's up there in Cumbria
Workington, Keswick, Cockermouth - so tough
To lose it all in the muddy water
Like some blues number. It can't happen here
Well now it can, and does, unhappily
Bridges must be rebuilt; warring nature
Warning us with each new lightning decree
Once again displaying her savagery
After an afternoon rest, with a puff
Then turning away, unconcerned. Cleaner
Than it was, that's how she likes it. Debris
Swept away, and that includes forms of life
This is the dawning of a new era

Sunday 22 November 2009

1175 - It happened on 22 November

You all know about JFK’s sad end
Oliver Stone replayed it endlessly
Well, it’s also the date O.J. Simpson
Took to the stand and pleaded ‘Not Guilty’
Whereas Rose West was this day found guilty
Maggie Thatcher resigned and shed a tear
(Like the Queen when she lost her yacht). Then the
INXS singer hung onto his door
To some excess - ’97 the year
His heaven turned to hell. Merkel was sent
To rule over the Germans. NYC
Trips by Concorde: enough time for a beer
On board? Juan Carlos, King of Spain, decent
End to the Franco years of misery

Saturday 21 November 2009

1174 - Three kinds of waiting

Where is my new fridge? Still, they’ve got till 6
To bring it up the stairs (no lift, my friend)
Frozen food once again; I lick my lips
At the shimmering prospect. Tins don’t tend
To fill me up for long. Hungry again…

Up early, down to Optical Express
An op on both eyes agreed with Elaine
Next Friday’s the date for my laser quest

Been re-reading all of Shakespeare’s sonnets
His objects of desire don’t seem to mix
Well with considerate natures; no, they fend
For themselves, treating Will so bad; the test
Of love seeming to be looks and cruel tricks
These will ensure admirers never end

Friday 20 November 2009

1173 - Throw it out

My optician’s appointment was cancelled -
Elaine is ill. But a new appointment
Tomorrow at nine. If she’s got a cold
She might not be well then, either. I went
Shopping instead, and ordered from Comet
A new fridge, coming tomorrow. I looked
Into the storage spaces in my flat
And dug out lots of old unwanted books
And a few DVDs, and then I took
Them all to Oxfam, where they will be sold
On Oxford Road to young and fresh students
Who, like me years ago will praise their luck
On finding these classics, cheap words of gold
Spellbinding new minds where my own once went

Thursday 19 November 2009

1172 - I can't see clearly now

I’m feeling tired but content with the day
Although in one way it’s been a failure
My laser eye op was postponed, for they
Are seeing if monovision’s the cure
But it’s not. Both eyes need their red laser
Kiss deep within. I’ll need reading glasses
And it’ll cost double to fix the pair
But hey, specs are cool! Wandered past pictures
In City Art Gallery, squints and stares
At Vallette and Goya, no need to pay
Listening to my own songs on headphones; poor
Playing or mixing fixed back home. CDs
Arrived; listening to them now. Then the day
Will end with Question Time and books and more

Wednesday 18 November 2009

1171 - A night at the Bridgewater Hall

I’m sitting in my complimentary seat
The orchestra in place, now warming up
Mobile on silent; coughers all be quiet
Please let me hear the music from the top

Ride, Prokofiev’s Lt. Kijé
Straight away, you are recognisable
Mozart’s 9th Piano Concerto: play,
Young man! Three encores. Then, the interval

We waited for Dvorak’s 5th, warming up
After a fag break in the cold night wind
His lively progressions soar to the top
Then plunge back down, restless as the night wind

A good programme, watched for free, among old
And young alike. Then out into the cold

Tuesday 17 November 2009

1170 - Auntie Christmas

We’re racing nicely towards that dread date
Christmas - oh shit, I’ve mentioned it now. Damn!
The sooner it’s gone, the better, I’ll state
Because I’m ‘Auntie Christmas,’ so I am
That’s a track I recorded, ’bout the sham
That is the modern festive time of year
Not everyone will like it, but to them
I say, stuff your stuffing right up your ear
Me, I’ll just have a whisky and a beer
Hopefully this Christmas I’ll celebrate
By recording some top music; I’ll jam
With friends over in Ireland, and we’ll hear
And smoke some truly festive shit. It’s great
To escape Santa’s clutches (dirty man!)

Monday 16 November 2009

1169 - Death of a fridge

New boss at work today, name of Joanne
Got in late after trying to defrost
My fridge; punctured it with a knife. How can
I find a new one quickly at low cost?
Will have to live out of tins; my milk must
From now on be long-life (tastes terrible)
Just as well that new lodger guy has missed
His appointment to view the flat; was full
Of puddles and defrosting food. But still,
Tonight went to the writing group, Bolton
A new Irish guy was there who seems most
Keen on poetry and music. Now will
I get straight to sleep? It’s Northern Ireland
And a meeting at ten tomorrow. Christ!

Sunday 15 November 2009

1168 - Killing the muse

It’s Sunday, and I’m trying to fight it
The urge to get drink and fags. Last night my
Face burned as I lay in bed. Now I sit
Writing today’s fourteen line diary
And hoping after that to write poetry
Then, after that, ideas for a novel
Ideas that, mainly at work, came to me
In bored moments, or chatting by email
The muse loves chit-chat; yes, she loves it well
As I talk to another, her voice flits
Into my lobes like lizard’s tongue, a fly
That she has caught, but not, this time, to kill
No, what’ll more likely do that’s the spit
From snakes, drunk from a can, smoke sticks nearby

Saturday 14 November 2009

1167 - Football, fun and food

England lose to Brazil yet again
And goals galore down in the lower leagues
Scotland screw up once more, to Burley’s pain
Not sure what Ireland did; perhaps fatigue
Has set in? It’s time I went to a big
Game down in London, maybe Tottenham
Or Crystal Palace. Today I had big
Hopes of going ice skating; they were damned
By heavy rain that relentlessly slammed
Down on the outdoor ice rink, so we went
Instead to the museum. Several swigs
Of coffee for me. Josie should try some
Mushrooms, but she’s scared of them! Oh, but when
I was a lad, I was the same. Beer, cigs!

Friday 13 November 2009

1166 - Coronation chuckin'

Friday the thirteenth! Yeah yeah; it’s no worse
Than any other day. We’ve all survived
It, haven’t we? We’re not yet in a hearse
Although, no doubt, some people must have died
Today. Don’t feel like doing much tonight
But I may do some music nonetheless
Just got the telly on for now, and right
Now, Coronation Street is on. Ah, bless!
Familiar faces, although I confess
There are some new ones I don’t know. I curse
Umbrellas! Left mine with a friend. Surprise!
It’s now raining every day! Makes a mess
Of my new bushy hairstyle! Let this verse
Reach God: please let it rain only at night!

Thursday 12 November 2009

1165 - Switched on

I spent half of today feeling merry
At the office, from the night before’s booze
This made the day fly by very nicely
Till 4:30 when we were on the loose
And off the leash, down the pub, where the news
Was discussed about office politics
And who was guilty of office abuse
Of power, the usual tale of sick
Behaviour. After that, we emerged, quick
Fag, sheltering from the downpour, then the
Meeting up in ‘Giraffe’ - but now the ooze
Has begun. Food poisoning? Won’t be quick
To revisit that place! Was quite busy
Because of the lights switched on. Light the fuse!

Wednesday 11 November 2009

1164 - Night out, right out there

God knows how much I’ve spent on a few drinks
Tonight, but I’ve not been out for a while
Took part in a poetry gig, I think
I was okay, but the drinks make you smile
And not care, like some of the folks who pile
Into the bar and dare to chat, but hey
That’s par for the course, of course, on the tiles
It’s good that there are places you can say
Whatever you want, no rules to obey
Where there’s a microphone, the shyness slinks
Away, and long may it be so; beguiled
By one man whose offbeat method held sway
Over me, and it’s time right now, methinks
That I was more adventurous in style

Tuesday 10 November 2009

1163 - War of words

Today we all feel sorry for Gordon
He’s being victimised by a mother
Who lost her son up in Afghanistan
Fighting a war started by Bush and Blair
All the poor guy did was write a letter
Albeit quickly and quite messily
But then Gordon’s a busy man, I swear
Being the PM don’t come easily
Maybe we should all try it, then we’d see
Oh but it’s hard to get that position
To get it you have to be much harder
Than chaps like you and I will ever be
And yet even harder’s a war unwon
And your son dead. Let’s sympathise with her

Monday 9 November 2009

1162 - Quickie

Am trying to clear the decks so I can pop
Some music out there, and an Xmas track
For Andy’s CD. Seems I never stop
But in fact, that’s not true: I often slack
Off and waste precious time. But thinking back
To last Tuesday, that wasn’t my fault, when
Leah the lodger never turned up. Fuck!
There goes my plan to pay off debts and spend
More time and money going out! Best bend
It to my advantage, and grow a crop
Of new songs, poems, maybe start to make
Plans for a new satire. You can’t defend
The madness of society! Can’t drop
The ball just now. Remain on the attack!

Sunday 8 November 2009

1161 - And the new heavyweight champion of noise is...

Oh my God! I’ve worked my arse off today!
Even though that twat one floor below me
Played a song on repeat, far too loudly
For two hours from 8 am on Sunday
(He often does this: I’m thinking it may
Be a deliberate wind-up…); yet I still
Got plenty of reading done; then a play
Of my acoustic guitar. Had the will
To start immediately recording till
Almost bedtime… Who gives a fuck what they
Think about it below me, given the
Idiotic, thoughtless way they make noise. I’ll
Remove my bedroom rug quite soon, if they
Carry this on. Then I’ll make noise, early*
*Early on weekdays, of which there are five, as opposed to the 2 weekend mornings they seem to deliberately make noise. 5 against 2. Will that make them see sense? Sense? Them? Incapable of it…

Saturday 7 November 2009

1160 - Driving Saturday

Driving car, driving rain, driving Jo mad
But it went efficiently, all good fun
At long last we used the tickets I had
To see the fish at the aquarium
Good value dishes at the restaurant
In between sightings of the sharks and rays
Our favourite part is when you can touch them
The rays, that is, not sharks or piranhas
On a scale of one to ten, Tony says
About eight for a laugh. One fish was bad:
It kept sticking its head out, squirting on
People’s feet from its mouth! Got some pictures
Taken, which are fin… er, fine. Then we had
To go to Greasby for tea at my mum’s

Friday 6 November 2009

1159 - Divorced from reality

A rainy day in old Manchester town
I’m sure the weather forecast misled me
So typically, left my brolly at home
But I didn’t get too wet, luckily
At lunchtime, nipped out to nearby County
Court, for some divorce info. I was shocked
At the cost - £300...!! Bugger me!
It’s shot up since the last time! Could be locked
In marriage a bit longer, then… I looked
At the view from the 12th floor. Long way down…
Saw my office, so small, and the city
More Salford than Manchester, all rain-dropped
And now, it’s Friday night at eight: the sound
Of my guitar is nigh; can’t wait! Byeeee!

1158 - Remembering, Novembering

Remember the 5th? I had forgotten
Till reminded of it in a meeting
About taxation, down there in London
Useful, knowledge-wise, but unexciting
To say the least. Many students walking
To and from the LSE, looking good
Reminding me of all those good-looking
Spanish students in Salamanca. Could
You find more Chinese in Chinatown? But
Even they dressed to thrill, or kill. Fashion
Sense a prerequisite for studying
And getting on here, socially. I should
Sleep on this train back north, but rarely can
Maybe I’ll try some song lyric writing…
Thursday 5 Nov

Thursday 5 November 2009

1157 - Sowing seeds in Leeds

A night out in Leeds really is easy
Takes just over an hour in the car
Despite the frequent roadworks, rain and the
Ubiquitous lorries right up your arse
Met Spencer there, eventually in the bar
After asking various Leeds strangers
Are you Spencer? It’s really not that far
And great to hear the Leeds accent; it cheers
Me up! And though this was my first
Visit to a poetry night there, the
Crowd was a friendly one. Talked to Spencer
Mainly, but others said hello, and words
Of approval and generally welcomed me.
Spence suggested next time bring the guitar…

Tuesday 3 November 2009

1156 - Up early and away

Woke up this morning in a lovely way
To my wonderful mobile alarm tune
Drove up to Teesport on this rainy day
Back home now. Leah should move in quite soon
So just writing this now. Tidied the room
A few items to iron, stuff to sort out
Had no lunch or tea yet; knife, fork and spoon
Must wait, in case she hasn’t either. Out
There it’s dark, cold and wet. It’s now about
Five pm. Not sure, may go out to play
In Leeds tomorrow night, not singing tunes
But reading my new Spanish poems out
(They’re not in Spanish! People would go, ‘Eh?’)
It’s all exciting. Don’t burst my balloon!

1155 - Wake up early tomorrow, Boo

Been to see Jimmy Webb live in concert
The old groaner did a good job, I’d say
So nice he did anecdotes too, cos it
Makes it that bit more worthwhile when you’ve paid
Good money. The support act didn’t say
What their name was. Duh! I must Google them*
Nearly asked him in the bar, later! ‘Hey!
Who exactly are you?’ But I thought, then
It would seem rude. I should know. And so when
I’ve written this, I’ll investigate. It
Shouldn’t be that hard to find out. I may
Be tired tomorrow. Early start. Us men
Are meeting at 10:30 in Teesport
Near Middlesbrough, which is quite a long way…
* It was Martin Carr, ex-Boo Radleys guitarist!

1154 - Gee whizz, it's November already!

Well here we are again: it’s November
The fireworks crack through the Salford night air
I guess Guy Fawkes, like Xmas, gets earlier
Each year. Stayed in today and got somewhere
With my ‘World War three’ suite of three songs. They’re
About war. The middle one is ‘Nazi’
The last few days I’ve been worried, for there
Is someone thinking that’s what I could be
Had to email him to say, ‘That’s not me’
Crazy! Got two old friends with phone numbers
I should ring, when I get time. Was prepared
To do that tonight, but still not had tea
At quarter to eleven! Neighbours are
Quiet. (Relationship beyond repair?)