Wednesday 30 November 2011

Sir Rick of Parfitt



Wealth was the measure of our success
Better amps, bigger shows, louder, faster
The villas and pools I've had; the palace
Where I played my Telecaster
We were celebrated and loud, yes
But we were modest avatars
Being ordinary served us best
Lads in denim – big German cars
Life was better when we played in bars
There is no art in the gluttonous
The powdery crunch of our guitars
Was so simple, powerful, numinous
I do not seek too much, as before
To sustain my craft and art, less is more

Life on the road is pretty healthy these days. ‘We always take a chef with us – I don't eat any pasta. I don't eat any potatoes. I rarely eat any bread. I give myself a break once a week and have something with more carbs in it, but for the most part I just stick to protein.’

Rick Parfitt of Status Quo quoted in Guitar and Bass magazine, December 2011





Wednesday 23 November 2011

Bulbophyllum Nocturnum

For Fergus


A night-flowering orchid, the first of its kind known to science, has been described by a team of botanists.
Experts say the "remarkable" species is the only orchid known to consistently flower at night, but why it has adopted this behaviour remains a mystery

How they oppress, the prisons of the hills
They are so easy to overrate
We have opened up the satanic mills
In all honesty, I have learnt to hate
William Wordsworth's fucking daffodils
I find no romance in tranquility
There is no poetry in my poetry

You'll see no metaphor or simile
In my work. They have served us ill
For they are delusions merely
Pathetic fallacies. My skill
Is in describing the ordinary
There is much to be said for banality
There is no poetry in my poetry

In our corrupted universe
They are deluded who turn to the light
Merely in their tedious verse
Let us praise flowers that bloom at night
Not sunsets, angels or Celtic slush
And explore strangeness not beauty
There is no poetry in my poetry

Wednesday 16 November 2011

A vision of ignorance















The Euro swooned. It felt unwell
Greece was sick and going to hell
Bad times for traders in red socks
Flapping arms and falling stocks
From the bankers came solutions
Less help for higher contributions
To keep them rich and screw the poor
While all the blame went to their door

They rioted, the markets spoke
We'll take that Papandreou bloke
The problem wasn't over yet
Because of high Italian debt
Another victim had to do
Exit ‘bunga’‘bunga’ Silvio
The markets growled, the euro sighed
The markets roared, the euro cried

Speaking in the bankers' hall
Eton Dave welcomes the fall
Complacent and myopian
Despising the ‘utopian’
It's part of the Conservative scheme
To wreck the European dream
Viewing from the UK prison
Its social egalitarianism

Dave speaks the Anglo Saxon creed
The ancient law of class and greed
Bullying markets rule the day
Dictating government policy
Equality and rights are sins
Only fit for Jacobins
Lower taxes make us free
And for the poor austerity

Wednesday 9 November 2011

Lament for a death in Forest Hill















U will neva b forgoten becos
All that u did was good
We grew up in the same hood
U was a brotha to me, my cuz


I know I wasn't always there
But u were always in my heart
Even when we were far apart
I hope that you know that, yeh


U r in a beta place now
Than this one, I swear
1 day I hope to c u there
Cos u r my brethren, my blood



Gangland killers at funeral 'may have gunned down wrong man'





A man killed in a gangland shooting at a funeral may have been shot by mistake, police believe.
Azezur Khan, 21, was blasted at close range by a pair of gunmen in front of hundreds of mourners.
Two 17-year-old girls and two men of 20 have been arrested and released on bail over the killing outside a cemetery in East Dulwich, South-East London.








Monday 7 November 2011

Old records




















Neatly from the alphabet they stare
Equal in rank, crooner and head
With their stacked heels and bouffant hair
Des O'Connor and the Grateful Dead
Their sleeeves fading to obscurity
The too-sincere, dangerous and mad
With cracked old videos for 50p
I watched them with mum and dad
Stoned and square, hippy and straight
They are moving to oblivion
Time does not discriminate
Shuffling to the bargain bin
Perhaps it is better to end up here
Than in a summer season on some pier