New Star Rising There's a new star rising in the west, and it's coming from the place, that we know must be the best. The nights are growing longer, feel the power getting stronger, put the people of the old ways to the test. Along the horizon, lines of dust. In the prisons, bars of … Continue reading New Star Rising
How short can a poem be before it's just a few words on a piece of paper, before it's not a poem? Then again, what is a poem? There is a one-letter poem apparently, by the American poet and novelist, Aram Saroyan. It's called, well, I can't really type what it's called. The poem consists … Continue reading How short can a poem be?
Talking of the Blues, which weighed heavily in the previous two posts, I just came across this little ditty which I apparently wrote on the 29th of April 2020. Ah yes, those heady days of 2020, no wonder I was thinking Blues… Talkin’ Rainy Day, Sunshine Blues Woke up this morning looked outa my door … Continue reading Rainy Day, Sunshine Blues.
The second "blues" poem referred to in the previous post. Again, I don't have a firm date for it but it's going to be circa 1976/78. I'd been pouring through "Writings and Drawings", a book of poetry, song lyrics and drawings by the august mister Robert Zimmerman and being young and impressionable some of it … Continue reading I Wish It Was Yesterday.
Hangover Blues Well l woke up this morning, took off my clothes and went to bed. Oh, I woke up this morning, took off my clothes and went to bed. Said I woke up this morning, took off my clothes and went to bed. Well, this pain I got baby, like a freight train going … Continue reading Hangover Blues
Love Byte My love, the wires are warm tonight, and she sees me. My love flows and she knows, my love, and always programmed so. The wires are warm tonight, but emotions are within permissible limits, and we might yet touch. We might smile, we might yet touch. And I see her. She's calculated, she … Continue reading Love Byte.
I wrote this piece of witless whimsey sometime in 1978 apparently. Typed up in April 1978 at any rate when I was obviously going through some sort of "electrical" phase, 3 phase 415 volts probably. There is a second "electrical" poem from around the same sort of time, I'll post it separately. I've tidied up … Continue reading 3 phase 415 volts probably.
Looking for something else, my partner unearthed an old clipboard of mine with an A4 writing pad and several loose sheets of paper clipped to it. It was one of those things that gets used and then one day it's put aside, and it slips out of consciousness and doesn't turn-up again for many years. … Continue reading Spaces.
I wrote this on the 26th of November 1978, eight days after the Jonestown Mass Suicide/Massacre, an event that I will freely admit I had to look up to refresh my memory about the whole thing. Jonestown or the Peoples Temple Agricultural Project was a religious settlement located in Guyana and founded by one James … Continue reading Who next for god, Jim?
Written in November 1978, I intended this as a sort of tumbling stream of consciousness. When I wrote it I was torn between using and not using punctuation but in the end I conformed and included commas and full stops. This time however, here in the 21st century, I'm going out on a limb and … Continue reading Any excuse.