There is a new podcast episode available, featuring some new poems, as well as discussions about the upcoming Christmas Crisis, the duality of man, whether it really is okay not to be okay, and my plans to abolish New Year’s Eve. I also answer questions from listeners on poetry, songwriting, Halloween, make up and my opinions on France.
you think you’re the devil,
I don’t dare tell you the truth,
because I like to let you dream,
and just like me,
you need to see yourself,
through a certain frame,
waiting for yourself to be the worst,
so you can strive and thrive,
for something else.
I let you,
I wait for you,
waiting with you,
placing penny after penny,
into the holes inside your soul,
to see if I can touch the thoughts,
that will solve your mystery.
I wrap myself around your waist,
as the world passes by,
you and I,
alone on your quad bike,
quietly closing another chapter,
swimming all night,
from sunset to sunrise,
kissing under the shadow of ancient castles,
and the mountains that move a little closer,
curious for us,
creeping down every time we close our eyes.
I saw that the tories had done an ad,
in comic sans,
I fucking lost it.
We are truly in the comic sans timeline.
I guess everything is funny,
not giving a fuck,
that while they play games,
the pawns and pieces are begging for just one day,
just one day,
when the alleged grown ups,
outgrow their dungarees and dumb games,
and get to business.
It behoves me to tell poor Brenda,
that an election is apparently imminent,
because our politically impotent prime minister
has thrown his toys,
and his brexit deal out of the pram.
Trump has finally learned to shut up,
silenced by the testimony,
at his impeachment enquiry,
he’ll probably find his voice,
and his twitter password shortly.
of all races and classes,
for the planet,
and a people’s vote.
Trains and veins were bursting,
with excitement and frustration,
as for a few seconds,
each person thought,
for their own reasons,
that maybe their voice was visible after all.
Some stuff probably happened in sport,
but I mean…
unless it comes from……….Rebekah Vardy’s account,
Director after director droned on and on,
about how Marvel films are shit,
screensplaining to the plebs
about what they should be swallowing at the cinema.
Franco is finally fucking off from The Valley Of The Fallen,
and hopefully what’s left of his corpse
will end up in a bin,
in an independent Catalonia.
Life is truly written in comic sans,
and we are bobbing along the banter timeline,
but every now and then,
more and more these days,
that is scarier than anything Halloween could hand us.
seeking a better life,
and getting a cold reply,
from a nation that dares to call itself great.
“Where were their visas?”
I’ll be performing this week, at The Week Behind Bars in London, on Thursday the 24th of October, at 19:30.