I know you love me but if you follow me I'll love you too!

Tuesday, 2 December 2008

TOP prompt

Two different versions of my Cottonopolis thingy!
LITTLE MISS
Little Miss Cotton Cottonopolis
rocks her baby at the factory
in the cradle of industry.
It’ll soon be noon in boom and bust
And she’s just twenty-four hours ahead
She knows that by this time tomorrow
that the whole world will follow
every single word that she said.
And she said:
We’re going to build a canal to bring
coal to town and to link us to the sea.
At noon the next day
the whole world laughed
and said that she was daft
but they waited and they watched
and they copied her by half past three.
And she said:
We’re going to build about
two thousand mills each one eight floors high
with chimney stacks that scrape the sky
we’ll power the looms in boom and bust
with the new technology that we trust
and we’ll fuel those steam engines with coal
that we’ll cart up the Bridgewater canal and
the finished goods we’ll send across the sea.
At noon the next day
the whole world laughed
and said that she was daft
but they waited and they watched
and they copied her by half past three.
And she said:
We’re going to build a passenger railway station
and lay tracks to every city in the nation
and build new dormitory towns to house the hoi polloi.
At noon the next day
the whole world laughed
and said that she was daft
but they waited and they watched
and they copied her by half past three.
And she said:
We’re going to build a university
and a new town hall
a free library and art gallery
and public parks for all.
At noon the next day
the whole world laughed
and said that she was daft
but they waited and they watched
and they copied her by half past three.
And she said:
We’re going to build a ship canal
so ships can come to us
thirty-five miles from the sea.
At noon the next day
no one laughed
or said that she was daft
but they waited and they watched
and the ship canal officially opened in 1894.
011208
-->
First free public Library, Manchester 1653
First real canal (not river assisted)
The Bridgewater Canal Manchester 1761
First steam powered mill Arkwright’s, Manchester 1783
First passenger Railway Station, Manchester 1830
Manchester Ship Canal officially opened May 21st. 1894 by Queen Victoria
First Red Brick University, Manchester 1824
-->
WHATSIT?
Little Miss Crochet
up from Whatsit?
queues outside the
monastery gates for
bread and honey and
her baby cries for the
milk that she’s not got
and across town the
dark satanic mills
rise up eight floors
above the cut and
the phallic chimneys
tower one hundred
and eighty foot into
the air belching smog
that hurts your eyes
and the bargees down
below are blindly carting
coals to fuel the loom
in bust and boom
and even as the tracks
are going down for the
worlds first passenger
railway station
across the road she still
shares half the basement
with eight children and two
drunken and abusive men
there’s no sanitation yet
they dump and hit and miss
in the river and kill the fish
almost next door to the
Italianate warehouse fronts
of the Nouveau riche that line
in eighteen twenty nine
the streets of Cottonopolis
301108
Cottonopolis = nickname for Manchester UK in the nineteenth century
Bargee = boatman on a canal barge
Cut = canal
Whatsit? = the countryside

Sunday, 30 November 2008

READER AWARD!!!

SEXY READER AWARD

My friend Anthony North at Beyond the blog! has passed on the following Reader Award:

Rules: Pass it on to five other bloggers, and tell them to open the nearest book to page 46. Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences. The closest book, not the coolest, or the one you think will sound the best. THE CLOSEST.

The closest book to my desk is called I'm Saying Nothing by Eric Topp ISBN 1-903160-07-3. Eric was a friend of ours from the Manchester Writers Group, sadly he died when he was 34 having completed thirteen novels. Three of them are in this collection.

"Nice to hear from you, can't hear you, sorry. Bye!"

There is an earthquake: I thought it was imaginary, a sympton of my over indulgence. But actually it's Janine, slamming cupboard doors.

"Shit!" She goes, "Shit, shit, shit!"

Please don’t feel pressured to take part, I'm not going to pass this on to you, but you can have a go if you like!

Hey Anthony, I'm putting a link to you in my sidebar because I'm sick of looking you up all the time...

Friday, 28 November 2008

Writers Island - Memories

For the Writers Island prompt: Memories

DYLAN
LENNON
AND LOU
Honky-tonk talk
New York
Sidewalk

You can do it
and they can
do it and we
can do it too

New York talk
Manhattan
Don't Walk

He can do it
and she can
do it and Noel
and Liam too

But we can't
do it like they
can do it

Like
Dylan
Lennon
and Lou
271108

Wednesday, 26 November 2008

Kyrielle for TOP & (not) following The Rules for RWP#54

Kyrielle (attempt).
Written for Totally optional prompts.


JIB GIBOLSKI
Do the jib, man
do the 'spare rib'
take the short cut.
Do the jib, Gibolski!

Jib, jib, jib.
Okay, yah!
I'll do my best. To,
Do the jib, Gibolski!

They've got sat nav!
Sat what? They'll be
sat there 'til Sun. or Mon!
Do the jib, Gibolski!

Amber Gambler?
Jump the light...
flash the sensor.
Do the jib, Gibolski!

Don't just sit there;
make a left...
take a right.
Do the jib, Gibolski!

251108


Written for ReadWritePoem #54

I WISH!!!

I wish that you

could come to

visit and never

go away.


'cos you know,

I love you so,

I told you

yesterday!


I wish that you

would stay

forever, much

like once before.


I wish that you

could come for

crimbo, not just

Christmas day.


'cos you know,

I love you so,

I told you

yesterday!


I wish that you

would stay for

New Year, and

never go away!


Don't you know,

I love you so?

I told you

yesterday!

241108



Sunday, 23 November 2008

Sunday Scribblings "Grateful"

Written for the Sunday Scribblings prompt - Grateful.

GRATEFUL

Grateful for greatfruits...
What are greatfruits grateful for?
Not being eaten!
231108

Thursday, 20 November 2008

TOP prompt

Written for TotallyOptionalPrompts

THAT’S ME!

Looking at life thru the bottom

of a bottle, blue green glass, that’s me.

It’s midnight late; I’ve been waiting

for my date, since half-past eight, that’s me.

The bars in motion, music’s a commotion,

a kafuffle, that’s me.

I’ve been eighteen for nearly eight years now

and nobody knows that that's me.

If you call, don’t call me small,

call me cute and dandy Andy, that’s me.

I’m the guy, straight talking, street talking,

sweet talking, pub-poetry, that’s me.

Fourteen, twenty-one, I’ve not been sober

since last October, that’s me.

You might think it’s neat, to step on my feet,

I don’t think so, but that’s me.

Looking at life thru the bottom

of a bottle, blue green glass, that’s me.

191108

RWP #53

This post has been written for ReadWritePoem.

AMERICAN SENTENCE REVISITED
Since the post a year ago on RWP #1 I have written a number of full length poems in different disguises which use this seventeen syllable sentence in way way or another. In reviewing them this morning I did notice that a few of the lines are actually fifteen or sixteen syllables here and there but anyway, if you're interested please take a look.
List of Titles.
The American Sentence RWP #1
Three to Three past Three.
Confession.
Confessional.
Dinosaurs and Fangs.
Kiss.
Foreign Lands.
King of Kingston.
Wino's Bench.
2 Girls.
And Still.
Goddess of Love.
Magic Island.
Disco Very.
Soon.
For Change Sake.
Expectations.
Kafkaesque.
For the Umpteenth Time.
The above titles are all listed in my sidebar
with a clickable link under Permalinks to poetry prompts.
I nearly forgot, here's todays offering:

BEAUTY FACE

Hello beautiful,

goodbye painted face

You look so

beautiful now!

Hello beauty face,

goodbye old ‘boat race’

You look so

Beautiful, wow!

Hello lover,

goodbye the other you,

You look so

Beautiful, phew!

201108

Sunday, 16 November 2008

Sunday Scribblings "Stranger"

Written for the Sunday Scribblings prompt: 'Stranger'.

FOR THE UMPTEENTH TIME

Down on the autobahn by the funny farm where the big kickers go.

I don’t give a ruck about them, but that’s where their stiletto’s get stuck.

Him in the habit said his name was Shirley but Mummy calls him Jack.

Jack, get back in the closet, ‘cos no one cares about the things you wear.

Sam drives a Rolls Can’ardly, rolls down hills but can hardly get up ‘em.

Takes the chauffer and Daddy’s limo when he goes to town to tank up.

And Matey Minedrops is just about as ginger as his wardrobe friend.

He dresses to tease, to please himself, naked, looking in the mirror.

Then the cell phone goes, ‘pronto, yeah, yo, whats-yer-face what yer want? not now!’

When the stranger walks in, the stash goes down the pan, for the umpteenth time.

161108

Friday, 14 November 2008

Writers Island - Embarrassing predicament.

Written for the Writers Island prompt - Embarrassing Predicament.
KAFKAESQUE
Ever been in a situation like this before, the sergeant asks.

Miracles only ever happen behind closed doors when you’re not there.

Before you open your mouth again I should think about your thinking.

Also, it has been a long time since you last went to church on Sunday.

Really you should write to me more often, if you want to hear my news.

Rice and rice cakes are on the menu at the masked ball, don’t eat too many.

Already it’s time to go, I know you don’t want to but that’s the rule.

Someone somewhere will look back sometime and that someone will find me out.

So what do I do now, how can I ever escape these prison walls?

Me, and my big mouth, got you into this fiasco in the first place.

Even though the situation is Kafkaesque, there is still some hope.

Not a lot of people know about this secret society, yet.

Though when they do, I will not be the first to die of embarrassment.

141108

TOP prompt "Expectations" & RWP #52 - Fears

Written for and prompted by

Totally Optional Prompts. & Read Write Poem

EXPECTATIONS

Expect the worst and when uni-ted

hits the fan, that’s when it happens.

You can legislate for these things,

they don’t just appear out of nowhere.

Someone, somewhere, makes them happen

and good style too by the look of it.

Who knows the why’s the what’s and

the wherefores, which way up do you flip out?

And is there actually something that

we all perhaps, should know about?

How long is it now since I first

confided in you and made you sweat?

My questions outweigh the

situational sense of expectation.

I have a deep understanding of

the workings of your inner self.

And I still desire to guide you through

this quagmire of doubt you portray.

From the very first day that you

came to me I knew what I should do.

Congratulations, annihilation of the foe,

crushed like a crumb!

Expectations, expectations, expectations,

banging on the drum!

131108

Sunday, 9 November 2008

Sunday Scribblings "Change"

Written for and inspired by the Sunday Scribblings prompt: Change
FOR CHANGE SAKE
No matter what they
say at the soul cafe
I still want you to stay.

And I always will
'cos I love you so,
don't you know?
no matter what!

No matter what they
say at the art cafe
your music makes me sway.

And it always will
when I dance with you
so don't change things
for change sake.
081108


Saturday, 1 November 2008

Sunday Scribblings "Scandalous"

S$$ $$$ $$$S
SCANDALOUS
*CANDALOU*
**ANDALO**
***NDAL***
****DA****
***NDAL***
**ANDALO**
*CANDALOU*
SCANDALOUS
$$$$$ $$$$$
011008
Written for Sunday Scribblings

Thursday, 30 October 2008

Rick Mobbs - Last image prompt.

Re-Written for the final Rick Mobbs image prompt.
SOON
The Martians are laughing at the odd, man-made dog, who 'conquered' the moon.
Soon they'll reveal themselves as the little 'tin gods' that they think they are.
They'll emerge from the shadows, throwing hot rocks at the automaton.

That poor dog, no space tree to bark at, legless, stranded, like a dead duck!
The Martians, standing there like Montezuma, ejaculating fire.
Spurting from every orifice and projectile of their tall tin frame.

But NASA will cut the delayed transmission - to the people on earth.
A million Internet flunkies will never quite know what's just gone wrong.
They press a button, terminate the session, find something else to do.

You think I'm kidding, maybe? the Martians will be laughing at us soon!
070797

Tuesday, 28 October 2008

TOP prompt - Totally optional option!

Posted for Totally Optional Prompts
I elected to take the totally optional option this week.

ALMOST

The first time,
you're really subjective,
autobiographical, almost.

Then later when you've
had time to shop around,
you get objective,
pessimistic, almost.

And then, when you find
your 'own voice' you become
romantic, optimistic, almost.

But they do say that:
'Patience is a virgin', almost!
080797

Sunday, 26 October 2008

Sunday Scribblings "Myself"

Written for Sunday Scribblings.
CONFESSIONAL

Just to prove to myself that I don't know what I'm doing when I'm drunk.
I went out to the pub last night and had a couple of pints, of Rum!
I rolled home about two or three a.m. and crashed out on the sofa.
Some time later, I woke up, crawled up the wooden hill and went to bed.
It's not like me to get pissed so easily but when I do I zonk!
And when I zonk, I snore, so the sofa is the only place to go.
Sometimes the walls are paper thin, like in my house, then the whole gaff shakes!

I'd really like to have a date with you but don't let me near the Rum.
Or the Vodka or the Whisky or the whiskey or the G and T.
In fact, make me steer clear of the top shelf, don't let me near the vino.
The laughing gear is strong enough for me but it has to be hand pulled.
From the wood and gravity fed, I know they say: keg still does the trick.
But any Tom, Dick or Lazarus can get up after a few of them!
Forgive me Father, for getting Brahms, It's been a Rum time since my last...
261008

Thursday, 23 October 2008

TOP prompt "Justice/injustice"

Posted for Totally Optional Prompts
Piccadilly-Pick-pocket!

ASSAULT + FLATTERY.

Daisy Dippy
on the 'dilly
kissed my lips
and touched
my willy
must've thought that
I was silly.
When she said
she liked
Big Ben!
I didn't know
she meant
my ten...
quid that
she slid
into her pocket
that she dipped
from my
sky rocket!
AS1393
Glossary
Dippy, Dip = pick-pocket
'dilly = Piccadilly
Big Ben = rhyming slang for ten
quid = £1 English money (slang.)
dipped = stole, pickpocketed
sky rocket = pocket

Have you read my poem Polyamourosity yet?

Wednesday, 22 October 2008

readwritepoem #49 - Echolalia

Written for the readwritepoem prompt - Echolalia

THE LIVERPOOL ECHO

Echo, Echo! Hey, Read all about it!

Poetry book sells quarter million copies!

Echo! Echo La? Lia? There yer go!

Echo, Echo! Straight from the horses mouth!

Patten, McGough and Henri, sold out!

Echo! Echo La? Get yer Echo La!

Irreverent, sardonic, funny, sad!

In an unintelligible Scouse tongue,

The newsboy shouts it out, Echo, Echo!

He bawls, with his echolalia tic.

MYC171008

Have you read my controversial poem Polyamourosity yet?
Go on clink-the-link!

read write image #1










Retrospective of a Myth.
Drawing by RossinaBossioB

Click the drawing
for a bigger picture.












IN FAGINS DEN

It’s like Fagin’s den in ‘ere love, let’s shoot…

‘old yer ‘orses guv, I’ve still got some gin.

Does yer ‘ubbby know that yer out up west?

Leave it out, it wus ‘im who sent me ‘ere.

Well the sooner yer drink up the better.

Yer won’t ‘urt me will yer gov? I’m not well.

Yer look kosher to me darlin’, what’s up?

Nuffin’ much, I’m just out to earn a crust.

Well yer can trust me love, I’m a doctor!

Cor blimey! Yer not that Jack the fingy?

201008

You can read what everybody else wrote at readwritepoem

Have you read my controversial poem, Polyamourosity! yet ? - clink-the-link-Here

Tuesday, 21 October 2008

Writers Island - Controversial

Written for the Writers Island prompt - Controversial
POLYAMOUROSITY

(ME + HER + HIM + HER + POLLY)
Little miss Polly polyamorous
Don’t she just think that she’s so glamorous
Her, him and her mono-poly combo

Dancing in the gym with him she thinks, hey
Beats that polyester fashionista
From the polytechnic that lives next door

Or that bloke, misogynist Sylvester
With his carrier bag mentality
Serial monogamist, etcetera.

Then there’s that polythene politician
Who has no clue about which way is up
Is he hetro, homo, bigot or what?

Polygamy is seen as blasphemy
Metro sex, - metrosexuality?
Polyamorist, - polyamory!

Mahogany bedpost monogamous
Monotonous monogamy? Not me
I’m a multidimensionality

Me and my other personality.
Not tried ethical non-monogamy
Twist my arm and I’ll test it properly.
191008
polyamourosity Vs polyamorousity and polyamorosity...

Saturday, 18 October 2008

Sunday Scribblings "My Style"

Written for Sunday Scribblings prompt : My Style

MY

STYLE

Fake this line, write it in quick time slowly

Right side up wrong side down which way to go

Everest is the highest mountain still

Every day someone tries to change the rules

So you want to know what my style is hey?

Then you’re going to have to give and take

Yesterday was different to today

Lines come and go, tomorrow who can tell?

Every day is different to the next.

I’ve not got a lot to say about form

Soon there will be more forms than there are poems

Many times I try to do the right thing

Yet, every time I fail and fail again.

Still want to know hey? Freestyle is my style

Too many people try to get it right

Yesterday was simple, now things are hard.

Lessons are continually being taught

Every day something new makes me forget.

181008

Wednesday, 15 October 2008

Read Write Poem #48 Collaborative

Written for the collaborative prompt from Read Write Poem

TENUOUSLY FORGETTABLE MEMORIES

As yet I don’t know which words to delete

Antiquated meditation, perhaps.

Untouched, nobody guards his artefacts,

sacred tribal tatterdemalion

now lost in the courtyards of his villas.

I attempt to scavenge some of the junk

and recognise the badge of civil chrome

on the parked cars belonging to the host

across the alleys, gleaming in the sun.

Nowadays though he hardly leaves the house,

if he resurfaces the Pap’s will pounce,

they scream obscenities in his front yard

and slink away to jettison their bile.

His brilliant tablature will not deplete.

151008

Tuesday, 14 October 2008

TOP prompt "Internal Rhymes"

Prompted by Totally Optional Prompts

this is my attempt at a 'climbing rhyme'.

TIC TOCK STOP

Climbing rhyming

tick-chiming-tock!

Skimming the clock

with a block in

a sock. Ticktock

up the clock face

of rock they climb,

making time tick.

Day time they come

at a run, just

for fun to find.

In their mind they

must wind the key

clockwise. Three times

back, tree trunk style for a while, ticktock, I'll stop!

131008

Wednesday, 8 October 2008

Read Write Poem #47 of Monsters + Dinosaurs

Posted for the Read Write Poem prompt: of Monsters + Dinosaurs
YESTERDAY IS DEAD!

Yesterday is dead
yes that's what I said
yesterday is dead!
You won't catch me
digging for dinosaur bones.
Hell, I've got enough
troubles of my own.
You're sixty-five million
years behind the times.
So, don't speak to me
about your scientific finds.
Don't talk to me with your
pre-historic minds.
'cos,
You won't catch me
digging for dinosaur bones.
Hell, I've got enough
troubles of my own.
Yesterday is dead,
yes, yesterday is dead + done.
But babe, you wouldn't
think it, the way those boffins
go - on, talking about the past
like it's the 'In-thing' to know!
You won't catch me
digging for dinosaur bones.
Hell, I've got enough
troubles of my own.
They cite devolution,
like it's some kindda solution.
It's a piss-poor contribution!
If that's the way they
think, that we oughta grow.
Yesterday is dead
yes that's what I said
yesterday is dead!
4599
I had to dig this one out of the archives and dust it off. It was originally written in 1999 in response to the science fiction movies Jurassic Park 1+2
I think that I thought of them as being some kind of cyclical prophesy that the world was devolving into.

TOP prompt - Discoveries

DISCO VERY

I used to go to Disco Very,

every Friday night so merry.

Poco Loco, Disco So-so,

Cinderella’s an’ Arabella’s.


Sing, Sucu sucu, dance like Ferry,

Do the Strand in the Roxy room.

Piccadilly Jilly’s, Pip’s and Placemate,

Disco Very, yeah, yeah, yeah!


And everybody at Disco Daze,

would disco dance to the disco craze.

Northern soul, do the Tamla walk,

those seventies days in Manchester.

061008

Sunday, 5 October 2008

Sunday Scribblings "Forbidden"

MAGIC ISLAND

Tara skips barefoot on the hot sand of Brown Sugar Beach towards the sea.

Before she reaches the strawberry scented ocean she strips naked.

Freeing herself from her city clothes she steps into the cool pink sea.

It is a beautiful day, she tells herself, as she splashes around.

When the surf caresses her body she starts to forget about him.

The salts in the water and the heat from the two suns start to heal her.

Floating on her back Tara lets the gentle waves carry her forward.

Before long the magic island of Tiny Tree is just a feint dot.

Turning onto her front her powerful arms strike out and she swims back.

The beach deserted earlier, is now a hive of activity.

Dozens of naked men and women are picnicking on the hot sands.

Their perfect bodies screaming immortality, clothes are forbidden.

041008

Thursday, 2 October 2008

RWP #46

GODDESS OF LOVE
She is my meditation and my muse,
without her I cannot live.
Every day she steers my ship at dawn,
to new horizons and beyond.

She is my communication,
my voice, without her I am silent.
As if by magic-carpet,
galaxies appear at the speed of thought.

She is my constant companion,
without her I am lonely and lost.
At the market-place she is with me,
when I re-wick and oil the lamps.

She is my imagination, my strength,
when I rub her lamp she comes.
She is more than a genie to me though,
she is my goddess of love.

She is the spirit that fuels my soul,
on towards immortality.
Already we have built a million mansions,
in the eternal realm.
021008