Fishing in the Rivers of Life

Category: Rivers of Life

  • Ode to Feet

    Plates of meat,That do defeatLogic and rhyme. Malodorous, odorous,With a characterAll their own —No wonder I’mStood here on my own. Fetid and reeking,Put me right off eating.Don’t get me wrong —By God, they pong. They’ve got quite niftySomewhat,Rather swiftly. What a pen and ink,It makes youStop and think…Ripe like Camembert. God, they stink!Don’t kiss and…

  • Jam Tomorrow?

    Perhaps it’s time,That we all threwour toysfrom this globalPram. Humanity shoutingIn righteous indignation,Just where the hellIs my jam? Jam tomorrow,Jam yesterday,But never jam today. The time has come,I have to say,We passed the pot. From those who haveto those who have not,Before we eat the fucking lot. They string you along,And tell you lies,Perhaps evenSympathise.…

  • My Hovercraft Is Full of Eels

    The Eureka Moment I’m sat here dripping wet. It’s not raining. Nor has a pipe burst. No. I’m sat here because I’ve just had a moment of clarity — my Eureka-in-the-bath moment — and in such a hurry to share it, I rushed down to my faithful Mac to start typing before it vanished in…

  • Yet I’ll not go gracefully into the sunset.

    The Fear of Losing My Trade Dogs bark, children cry, men moan, and writers write. Or do they? Do politicians and bricklayers wake up in the middle of the night in the fear that they have forgotten their trade? I do. The fear that by the time the next dawn chorus breaks, I will have…

  • Tourism: The Self-Destructive Voyage of Modern Narcissism

    Tourism is not the harmless middle-class pastime we’ve all been brainwashed into believing, thanks to a never-ending diet of slick, over-produced adverts that invade our personal space like an irritating passenger reading your newspaper. In fact, it is time to amend the dictionary: tourism noun /ˈtʊə.rɪ.zəm/Definition: The desecration, defilement and casual ruin of a destination…

  • To Infinity And Beyond

    Aboard the Charabanc of Righteous Rage I’m not one for jumping on bandwagons, but given the circumstances, I’ll gladly leap aboard this charabanc, drop my trousers and metaphorically moon and shout at the bemused pedestrians like a drunken compositor on a works outing. The Treacle Sponge Incident It’s a feeling that’s been building steam like…

  • Top of the Pops

    Trying to writea love song,something punchy,not too long. Chas ‘n’ Dave —my inspiration.Come on now,what, you hate ’em?There just ain’tno pleasin’ you. Top of the Popswas my aim —sadly,they’re out the game. But, by Jove,I will not cry —time to exploitold Spotify.

  • First, They Came…

    “Son, I Hate My Job” I have an ever-abiding memory of my father, one that haunts me to this day. I remember, early one morning, bumping into him as I made my way to the bathroom. Through my bleary eyes, I could see such weary eyes, and with a look that I can still feel…

  • The Kiss

    When I stole the desperate kiss,You stole my heart.Lips sealed,Sealed my fate.I surrendered,As if a virgin,I gave myself to you,As you gave yourself to me. But that was long ago,In the past.It seems some things,They were not built to last. Indeed, you broke my heart,For a while.Life fell apart.Love moved on,As did life.I survived that…

  • Chick’n Chips

    Chick’n Chips from myfavorite Sarf London store —you know the one,bullet holes in the door.Customers scream,and they shout —heaven knowswhat they’re on about. Consumers eclectic,including me,ponderingwhat to havefor their tea. Chicken thighs?Dodgy pies?Maybe even,Curly fries? Standing there, contemplating,I wonder how longI’ll be waiting. Spicy wings?Onion rings?Napkin rings?You must be joking. Delivery riders —they seldom smile.Perhapsthey’ve…

  • Sunglasses

    Sunglasses, sunglasses,Everywhere —If only I could findMe a pair. My nice issue RAF ones,Perfect for lookingLike a Top Gun —Or even avoidingThe Hun in the sun. The cool-looking,Ex-British Army shades —Perfect for pretendingYou’re going on raids. Ah, the pair I triedTo nick from my mate Charlie —The ones that I wearWhen I ride on my…

  • I Like Wearing Caps

    I like wearing caps, ‘Cause they make me seem kool. I know what you’re thinking — I look like a fool. Before you dismiss that Right out of hat, Come down and join me, And we’ll both look like prats. You’d never catch me Wearing a hat, But I could be telling you Porkpies about…

  • Who Are You…

    I can’t remember being youngOr how I got old.I can’t even rememberThose stories I’ve told. Memory loss,Now is such an affliction.How much of my life isJust pure fiction? How can I lie,If I don’t know what’s true?Honestly, mate,Would I lie to you? Yeah, I drink too much,That bit is true.Again, the line:Would I lie to…

  • On The Way Home

    On the way home,Not that anyone cares,I’m just gladIf nobody stares. Who knows whatMacabre vicesThey all watch onMobile devices, Staring at phonesLike spaced-out monkeys —They’re allSocial media junkies. The devil’s work,As I’ve frequently said —I guess we’ll find outWhen we are dead. And when you arriveIn that celestial dock,You find it is for somethingYou posted…

  • waiting for a train

    With apologies to Monty Python When you’re chewing on life’s gristle Don’t grumble, give a whistle And this’ll help things turn out for the best… And… Here is a poem what I wrote, I think you’ll find, It goes for the throat. If you don’t like it, I don’t really mind — It’s about Life’s…