bit of an up n down morning so far
happy
angry
late
anyway here i am
but not for too long
have some meetings to attend
gotta focus my mind
but the focus is broken
and the aperture is wide open
letting everything in once
how i envy those who can concentrate
those who can hunker down with some figures n stats
and ignore the galaxies spiralling round em
ignore the motes in the sunlight
those who can read the financial times
and shut off the imminent poems that keep
cascading into their mind
you get the picture…
my mind is useless at anything practical
want light bulbs tied
or shoe laces changed?
dont ask me
why couldn i have had
both lobes genii
im overdeveloped in the right
while my left is the size of a pistachio nut
(only the nut has more common sense)
i can spit prose poems out
till the rimbauds come home
but i cant fix a puncture
i can whip out tunes for eons
but i cant remember my ph number
and let me tell ya baybee
when yer broken down on the side
of the highway
in australia
miles from nowhere
hot summer day etc
you know what
a handy turn o phrase
and a way with a chord progression
will avail ye but little
thats when you wish youd been a carpenter
i knew a swedish guy
tho he had never built anything before..
he built a little house
this is far more incomprehensible to me
than painting the moaner leaser
or blew poles
or
(insert yer fav. masterwerk here)
my poor dad
tried so hard to teach me to tune up my car
but we were listening to the radio as we did it
and i was getting carried away with the songs i dug
and fuming against the garbagey ones
so i never learnt nuffink
he used to give me a sad look
now i think of it
he could tune cars
and play the piano
i cant do either
was i robbed?
i dont think my dad went in for poetry much..
but i dont think he ever was exposed to the good stuff
my mum bought me robert louis stevensons
a childs garden of verses
and i memorised loads of those
then i was in an eisteddford
(however the fuck you spell that welsh behemoth)
but i didnae win
(i was robbed)
i always had the sheer gall to get up
on a stage
and do my stoopid thing
i know bullies
football heros
tough guys
hoodlums and neer do wells
to whom
blood, jail, pain, violence
was nuthin’
put em on a stage however
they crumble and buckle and fall to bits
so i got bravery for one thing
but not for the other
jesus
its all about me
all the time
maybe tomorrow
im gonna bring you some snippets
from dutch pierres childhood
i mean
how confusing
youre dutch, right?
but you got a french name…
and
yer in australia
presumably pschycokis set in
at an early age
reducing his mental resistance
to such an extent
that he has actually been enjoying
the monotonous depressing row
that is the cruch
for over five hundred years now
HUH?
go fucking figger fiendsss
ok ?
sk !