1364 - Yellow underbelly

The Coalition’s already tainted
With sleaze. David Laws, Chief Secretary
To the Treasury, found he had painted
Himself into a corner, not chiefly
Because of his hidden sexuality -
The public wouldn’t hold this against him -
But because he had claimed over forty
Thousand in rent paid to his partner. Slim
Chance of getting away with that within
The current strict climate. Having scented
His own blood, he jumped before he could be
Pushed, saving their faces. So soon back in -
The old politics - how disappointed
Clegg’s supporters with their naivety?
Yellow is the colour of David Laws' and Nick Clegg's political party, the Liberal Democrats, who are in a coalition government with the Conservative Party.

1363 - The wheel deal

The rain did not stop play, or rather, ride
No - me and Josie were unstoppable
I took my bike on the train; stood outside
The toilet; off at Wilmslow; miserable
Grey sky and a persistent light rainfall
Did not change my mind; not even a coat
Or sweater; just a T-shirt: that was all
I had to keep my top half warm; I hoped
The forecast was right: the clouds were about
To head east. They didn’t, but we still tried
To explore those leafy lanes to the full
And after that, cycle to town without
Needing a parking space. A source of pride
For both of us that the day went so well

1362 - Wheels on fire

I’ve been on a bike, my first time in years
I bought it from a lady in Stockport
I rode it all the way home from her house
Up and down the A6, starting to sweat
So in a quiet side road doorway I stopped
Changed out of my jeans, put them in my bag
And replaced them quite quickly with my shorts
Carrying on homewards, starting to flag
Slightly, the knees straining a bit, the drag
Up each hill taking its toll. Could I force
The bike into my car was my main thought
So I can drive it towards hills and crags
But I’ve knocked something. It rattles. My fears
Of machinery are once more borne out

1361 - On and on

What’s been going on recently, you ask
Well, there is a new prostitute murderer
In Bradford; yes, Peter Sutcliffe’s old patch
The Queen’s 56th speech opening the
New Parliament, outlining the tougher
Approach to spending that will hurt us all
More deaths in Afghanistan; a soldier
Buried in Hyde, east Manchester, his fall
Another question mark over it all
They’re watching the Coalition for cracks
Will it really stay strong for five whole years?
Meanwhile we’re gearing up for the football
World Cup in South Africa. Also fast
Approaching is my Irish show. Au revoir

1360 - Spanish castle magic

In 1360, in Andalusia
(Southern Spain), they were building a great fort
And a kingly palace, the Alhambra
As the Christians closed in, and the Moors bought
Time to retain their Muslim kingdom, caught
In their southern pocket, where they would stay
Till 1492, so not a short
Time they enjoyed Granada's luxury
Meanwhile, Muhammad V became prey
To a coup by Ismail, his half-brother
Who was killed by Muhammad VI, but
He in turn was killed in Seville; they say
Pedro the Cruel sent his head as a
Gift to Muhammad V, now restored

1359 - Wheels, meals, strings and things

It’s late evening in late spring. I’ve stayed in
And once again played guitar. My hand hurt
A little today while I was texting
But I went ahead anyway. I’ve bought
A new bike for myself on eBay. Sport
Is coming back into fashion, and me
And Josie will go cycling, now she’s learned
To ride her new bigger bike properly
We could discover the Cheshire country
And maybe in future catch trains, getting
Our bikes on board, going further abroad
Tomorrow night it’s a Thai meal - yummee!
I do love their coconut flavouring
But what has happened to all the Red Shirts?

1358 - Fill my cup

A rousing second half there by England
Who slept at first against old Mexico
At Wembley, in the warm up match to send
Us toward South Africa with a glow
I’ve enjoyed watching it; now time to go
And get more beer, and listen to the sound
Of a favourite band from years ago
Who’ve colonised my head tonight. A pound
If you can guess who, but I did get round
To mentioning one of them once again
Six days ago, because six days ago
His death’s anniversary came around
Meanwhile, tonight’s game’s ending with England
Winning. The World Cup beckons. Here we go…

1357 - Sunny Sunday

Some hot weekend we’ve had; sunny Sunday
Sunbathers all gone red; sunny Sunday
The sun’s high while I write sunny Sunday
Not yet crashed from its flight; sunny Sunday

Top off like a real man; sunny Sunday
Tattoos needed, and then (sunny Sunday)
I’ll be complete and fine; sunny Sunday
Posing in the sunshine; sunny Sunday

Hey girl, you’re really hot; sunny Sunday
Like being cooked in a pot; sunny Sunday
This sunbathing’s the thing; sunny Sunday
It’s fun not saying a thing; sunny Sunday

Now evening’s drawing in; sunny Sunday
Work’s shadow falls again; sunny Sunday

1356 - A special day for some

Well, the Special One did it, and well done
A deserved win against Bayern Munich
For Inter Milan. Mourinho’ll be gone
To Real Madrid soon, they say. He’s quick
To move on to new challenges. I like
That about him, and his passion and wit
The bores who criticise him are all thick
He’s the best, so you should all deal with it
Porto, Chelsea, Inter, he just wins it
Meanwhile, in England, Blackpool have just won
Promotion to the Premier League. Won’t stick
Around for long, maybe, but they have lit
An orange fire in Lancashire. It’s fun
To see fairy tales happen with a kick

1355 - Nonsense sonnet 2

I meant to just write nonsense yesterday
So today I'll try again to write some
But wait, what shall I do? I'm on my way
It's now too late, I've already begun
Will those nonsense sonnets ever again
Sprout from my brain to fingers and to screen?
Or is it the case that my virtual pen
Refuses to obey this human being?
Can mind and body ever be a team?
Is it that I’m weak-willed, opting to stay
In the realm of sense, trying to conform
As much chance of that as becoming queen
Well, they say tomorrow's another day
Either that's obvious or it never comes...

1354 - Nonsense sonnet

It’s surely time for a nonsense sonnet
As nothing makes sense around me at all
Advancement comes from friendship, not merit
You lick arse every day, or else you fall
What’s the point of brains, we’re in the jungle
Scratching backs, picking fleas from off the boss
It’s time then to go ape, since we’ve bungled
Our chance to be better; admit it’s lost
And truth is banished; has been from the first
In normal society which is kept
In place by fear and sheer strength, by big balls
And tits, mesmerising the small. We’re tossed
Aside, trod on, a path for them to spit
As they cruise along, not bothered at all

1353 - Evening blues, not booze

I'm looking forward to another play
On the guitar tonight, and if I can
Steer clear of beer, and by doing so, stay
Fully fit in body and mind, begin
To do so much more in the evenings, in
Less time, I may find I achieve some goals
It should be a no-brainer: be half-brained
Because it's soaked in booze, or have the whole
Of body and mind fully functional
It's discipline that's needed; I must say
No beer tonight; an omelette in the pan
Later on will be better, and I will
Also read more, and faster. Evenings, they
Seem to last so much longer without cans

1352 - Love tore us apart

It’s thirty years today since Curtis died
A sad loss to the music world, you know
He went as the eighties dawned, years that tried
To build on Bowie’s androgeny, though
I remember some girl students not so
Sexy in their baggy gear, playing down
The hetero look. Just one was different. Oh
Mini-skirted doll, the only one found
In the literature department, around
Me too little, too late, sadly. I might
Have gone out with her ugly friend, but no
Someone else claimed my affections, and soon
I was taken and captured, shut inside
For the first time. Love tore us apart, though

1351 - Cool running

A lovely evening, and, as I walked home
From Sainsbury’s, listening to some music
I suddenly decided I would run
In the park, but I would have to be quick
I put my shopping in the fridge; frantic
I changed into my sports gear, exercised
Then jumped into my car, moved the gear stick
And headed north to Prestwich; parked beside
Heaton Park lake and ran up the hillsides
Round the lakes, across the grass where kids roamed
With dogs that sometimes carried twigs and sticks
In mouths, and kept on running alongside
Almost tripping me. My left knee had some
Aching in it: keeping fit’s little trick

1350 - Lazy Sunday

A day of rest: sport on TV; reading
‘The Mayor of Casterbridge’ but naughtily
Avoiding any work, so far. Waiting
Now for England to clinch their victory
Against foes Australia in the 20-
20 cricket world final. Monaco
Was won by Webber, so there’s been Aussie
Success as well as failure today. Oh,
And Oxford, not York, are promoted to
League Two with Stevenage, Grimsby falling
Along with Darlington down to ‘League Three’
They’ve just revealed that England have won, so
I suppose I should maybe do something
Yet today feels destined to stay lazy

1349 - Dance of death

The Black Death was at its height in Europe
In 1349. Guesswork is all
We have for actual death rates, but its top
Estimate is around a third were killed
Perhaps more in parts of Asia; the fields
Of China and India were corpse-strewn
As badly as London and Florence reeled
Bodies rotting in empty houses; thrown
In mass graves when found. The cause was unknown
Was it God’s anger? Should the Jews be stopped
And burned, in towns like Köln, Mainz and Basel?
The best hope was to keep far from the town
The monks tended the sick and then were cropped
In their turn by the plague that still appals

1348 - Friday on my mind

I spent most of the day at work chatting
Chatting on the phone, chatting to the team
I felt quite lively, and time was passing
Quickly, was building up a head of steam
The sun of recent days was seldom seen
It’s certainly been cold for May, it has
Even with sunshine, chilling winds have been
Reminding us of how the winter was
Back home, I exercised, and then I crossed
North Manchester by car, and then parking
In Heaton Park car park, near lake and stream
I jogged twice round the park, seeing few others
In the park, early on Friday evening
I’ve washed my clothes and lastly I’m blogging

1347 - Musical enthusical

After work, met Andy; we bought some snacks
Then round to mine for a first rehearsal
Of a new number, one of his four tracks
In Ireland in July, a piece that will
Introduce reggae into the show’s full
And varied styles of poetry and song
My own set: four sonnets with musical
Backing. I think I might just bring along
An acoustic electric guitar: wrong
To do all four electrically; that smacks
Of laziness, since two are suitable
For acoustic treatment, while two are strong
Electric numbers. And so now, perhaps
I’ll buy a new guitar (not a Les Paul!)

1346 - The Battles of Caen and Crecy

The Hundred Years' War got into top gear
Way back in the year 1346
Normandy, as in the Second World War
Was where the English landed in their ships
And as in '44, Caen took some hits
In July 1346, its folk
Hacked down, the town burned, gold stolen, a blitz
By Edward The Third's wild bunch, keen to choke
The delicate throats of French nobles, blokes
On horses, arrow-proof heavy armour
But not proof against longbows, and eclipsed
Again in August at Crécy, which shook
France to its foundations, left the way clear
For further strengthening the English grip

1345 - All change at Number Ten

Another day of fast-moving events
The day dawned with a Lib-Lab pact likely
But Labourites reportedly were tense
At bargaining with the minority
Lib Dems to cling to office so grimly
No matter their poor results at the polls
Clegg seemed more comfortable with a Tory
Alliance, as they won more votes, and told
Us so five days ago. Into the cold
Goes New Labour, as Brown and wife leave Ten
Downing Street for the Palace. After he
Has tendered his resignation, the old
Monarch will send for Cameron: immense
Will then be Dave’s responsibility

1344 - Wish I was there

I should be in Greece or Albania now
I can't quite remember the full schedule
Since I rubbed out the pencilled notes saying how
I'd planned to spend each day. Though it was cruel
To miss out on this trip, I'd be a fool
To rely right now on public transport
In that troubled corner that I'm sure you'll
Have seen erupting in the news. One sort
Of eruption being social; riots caught
In the TV spotlight; financial slough
Of despond. Again, Iceland's ash has ruled
Out flights to Spain and Italy, that sort
Of eruption, geological. Blow
Across the skies, symbol of our misrule

1343 - Sonorous sonnet

I’ve started something I’ve long meant to do
And that’s setting to music some sonnets
I don’t have to write them specially, for you
Know I have thirteen hundred just like this
Although admittedly they won’t be hits!
Not in this dull commercial world they won’t
It should make a change from the way lyrics
Are often written; often, they just don’t
Say much at all, and I don’t see the point
Of that, or of repeating radio
Favourites from childhood, those old favourites
Themselves repeating themes from juke box joints
Of decades before, or from World War Two
Dancefloors. No-one’s danced to a sonnet… yet

1342 - A stitch-up in time

Oh, politics, give me a break, give me
A chance to turn off, tune out, do something
Else for once: you’re always on the TV
In truth, though, you know I’m not complaining
I saw impassioned youth demonstrating
Outside the Lib Dems’ meeting place: reform
Of the first past the post way of voting
That simple, undemocratic system
Representing the old class division
The haves and have-nots, wants and want-nots, the
Selfish and the sharers, and the grasping
And the carers; reform! they cry; it’s them
And us together this time, for they see
We all need the old stitch-up opening
Sat 8 May

1341 - Power moves

I watched the election coverage last night
With wine close by, drank straight from the bottle
The final result still well out of sight
By bedtime. Watched the outcome, all settled
On the sofa, this morning. Critical
Events, landmark speeches, pundits’ debates
Dimbleby, Paxman, Robinson, they all
Were there, as was Emily, and her mate
Laura; I saw her outside, looking great
The law I was less clear about, but might
Be able to explain it now. Brown’s still
PM, though Labour got less votes. His fate
Depends on whether Nick and Dave requite
Each other’s wish lists, or if they squabble

1340 - First past the polls

It's general election day here in Britain
I voted a few days ago by post
Liberal Democrat was my chosen
Party, to shake up the first past the post
Electoral system that has kept closed
The door of Number Ten to all men but
The Tories and Labour, who both opposed
Proportional representation. What
Will happen tonight? It's likely there'll not
Be a clear majority government
Whatever happens, Brown may not be toast
Just yet. Working with Clegg, he could stay put
But voters wouldn't be impressed, and then
Maybe there'll be in-fighting for his post

1339 - Ode to a Grecian burn

Despite a one hundred and ten billion
Euro rescue package, the Greeks are mad
A two-day strike has this morning begun
The planes, trains and ferries, all are stopped dead
Just as well I'm not over there; I had
Planned to be there, beginning on the day
After this strike, but I cancelled. I'm glad
I don't have to worry about if they
Will operate their transport, or which way
The ash cloud drifts - will it cover England?
And then, the riots. Three dead there today
Trapped inside a fire-bombed bank in Athens
Hot heads! It's just as well I'm here instead…

1338 - Tuesday morning, 3am

I need to sleep, I need to sleep, I need…
The neighbours were shout, shouting, bang, banging
Enough at 3 am to make ears bleed
After a while, the pair were quietening
And dreams were returning, were returning
But then, just before four, just before four
They started it all again, and joining
The argument was a voice much deeper
A second man had come over, over
And the husband now sounded frantic, keyed
Up and more defensive, his voice rising
The noise stopped at half-four, stopped at half-four
I lay, light grew like a seed, like a seed
I rose early, started cleaning, cleaning

1337 - Running commentary

Well, same as last time, after I got back
From my run twice round Heaton Park, the aches
Were there again in my legs. When I walk
From the car to my flat, my shins can’t take
The pressure, at first, but they seem to make
A quick recovery. It seems to hurt
My kneecaps most; I feel them when I wake
And when I go to sleep, or when I start
Out of my chair. Although I run on dirt
Or grass when I can, still these pains attack
Hands, wrists and fingers too; lately they shake
My plans for live guitar development
Playing much faster and harder has cracked
My tendons or whatever, for God’s sake!

1336 - Til I ache my bones

This weekend, I’ve started writing a book
I don’t want to give much of it away
It’s not a novel, but a humorous look
At the English and their language today
And how it should be simplified one day
At any rate, it’s been fun so far, and
It’s kept me busy, while Sheffield Wednesday
Got relegated. Tomorrow, what is planned?
A morning run… I’m making great demands
On my body: legs, knees, and rapid plucks
Of guitar strings, alongside fast fret play
Have made my hands ache. Are those legs and hands
Just muscularly growing? Are they shook
By incipient arthritis? No way!
Sun 2 May

1335 - Mayday, m'aidez

M’aidez, m’aidez, it’s May Day, may I say
The year’s hurtling startlingly further forth
The fifth month’s lifting off, shifting away
From dark, cruel cool to parks and pools and warmth
Though summers hum with thunder, lightning storms
When they come, promising, not delivering
Like partners, parties, defendants on oath
Like football teams; fuck all seems pukka. Things
Get better, then worse; the tale of life’s sting
In the tail; failure hurts; this theatre play
On the stage, the page, the cage of our birth
Antithesis of dreams, missus screaming
M’aidez, m’aidez, it’s May Day, may I say
Save our souls; like maypoles, hold them to earth