Monday, 9 April 2012
Laid back with your feet on the chair, you always looked
I don't forget your face.
The way you fill the space between us with your smile
It was twenty past seven.
I lay listening to Chris Evans as you leave my heart
I didn't know there was trouble.
The water starts to bubba-bubble for the tea that helps
I go out for a while
It is harder to smile as I wish now for a chance
Now there you are.
This marathon was not too far as you give me
Peace of mind.
Friday, 19 August 2011
Some are tougher than others to crack, of course. Some just take a petrol bomb to knock out. Bloody impressive sight, that. I love the sight of a burning bridge in the morning. Really good for crushing morale. Some, of course, take a more concerted effort to put into the water. But when they go, my God is that satisfying. Few things more satisfying in this life, to see your days and weeks of effort rewarded like that.
Take the bridges. Unpick the stitches that this community wove for itself to unite and grow together, and you will divide them. Then, when you're the only one with access to all sides, you become the one with Aid, with Food, with Resources. Siege ended. Conquest complete.
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Yes Mavis, look at the screen and tell me what you see.
Hooligans trying to score a new Mackensie hoodie for free,
While battering the shit out of JD, improvised baton in hand
As others run, flash mob militia, headfirst into a wave of shields.
What was it all about Mavis? What are they saying Mavis?
How can they be talking about urban decay when they're the ones
Lobbing bricks into shopkeepers' windows, and all for a laugh
Cos there's nothing better to do.
Where are the leaders of our community now Mavis?
The ones you look up to?
I suppose it's not as if they can say anything after
Smashing up restaurants for fun - didn't you know that?
It's amazing how one man's fun and games is another's social depravity.
I see you flipped the channel Mavis.
Something more agreeable and palatable for the stomach eh?
Not in my book.
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
This is for a very inspirational young lady. I felt compelled to put together a little something and some of the rhymes just popped into my head - so I had to get the job done. It's so cool, how she changes the world the way she does.
Little Lion Man is a very good song
But for this person that one just doesn’t quite belong
I don’t want to be so cheesy that it makes your toes curl
But I have to tell you all about the Little Lion Girl.
She has young eyes that look as though they’ve seen through the ages
She knows how to rock a show, it doesn’t matter where the stage is
Whether singing or speaking she never sounds like a rookie
We affectionately call her our Oreo cookie
On account of the brown that surrounds her pure whiteness
Not Caucasian, I’m talking about another plane of brightness
She cares about us all, she never fails to inspire
She is also so determined and she continues to aspire
I guess she’s up and coming just like Ed Sheeran
And there is no-one that Little Lion Girl is fearing
I can’t wait til her songs are what we’re all hearing
Without a doubt she’s the one we’ll be cheering
I got lazy just then so I’m sorry for that last verse
I’ll wrap it up on this one, just in case it gets worse
Double L to the G, huge love and respect in your direction
Let's get in the studio and make a collabo connection! :P
Monday, 15 August 2011
Dear Mr Postcard Seller,
I don't mean to be a pain and cause a fuss - you can tell by my accent that I am English after all - but seriously, you can't expect me to buy these postcards?
What kind of place is this, Mr Postcard Seller, where instead of pictures of cobbled streets and pretty panoramas, you're showing me a completely smashed and pulverised place?
Do you really expect me, Mr Postcard Seller, to take this scene of an airstrike, of levelled terrain; of ex-houses and former tenants, and on the reverse write "Wish you were here?"
And with your tales of what happened, Mr Postcard Seller, in limited and stilted English, Mr Postcard Seller, do you hope to persuade me?
The look of sincerity in his eyes. The longing for what once was. The sight of the memories replaying in his mind over and over again did more than any patter ever could.
Dear Mr Postcard Seller. I'll take six.