Tuesday 14 September 2010

Winter makes us all a bit northern

Buy us a bitter, it's your shout
It's time to get the Parka out
The leaves in the flaming trees
Flutter like celebrities


Already dark at half past four
Going to the fookin bar
The sky's as black as a Staffy's mouth
Even in the fookin south


Icy mornings, sugary brew
Drinks that smell like superglue
Hobbling girls in tiny skirts
Sweaty blokes in nylon shirts


Winter is a northern squeeze
It's always cold on Salford Quays
The darkness never goes away
Even in the fookin day

Sunday 5 September 2010

Covent Garden piazza 2010

Suspended under the canopy
Drill hall commands echo and bounce
The rhythm of roar and shout
Exhilaration, an elixir
We watch, intently, from the crowd
It is a slow fall towards death.
In the high, vaulted arena
Where light falls, pigeons unfurl
And bright tables glamourise
I carry my melancholy heart