I read the most wonderous novel last year –
So moving, so thoughtful, so witty and sheer.
I think you’d enjoy it – it’s somewhere round here.
So feel free to borrow, I’ll bring it tomorrow –
It ain’t gloom and sorrow, but will raise a tear.
I don’t mean to hassle or bug or cajole,
But these are the hands that have touched at my soul –
Yet all of their beauty is wholly unknown –
These pages get lonely to wander alone.
I heard the most marvellous album last year –
So rich and inspired, so quirky and queer.
I think you’d enjoy it – the vocals are clear.
I’ll lend you the disk if you’re willing to risk –
The tempo is brisk, but it long haunts the ear.
I don’t mean to pressure or preach or ensnare,
But these are the songs that assuaged my despair –
I long to belong, to be part of the show –
And know there are others who know what I know.
I saw the most glorious movie last year
So moody and epic, so lush and sincere
I think you’d enjoy it – oh, please volunteer !
By all means I’ll lend what I sure recommend,
For what kind of friend would not loan out their gear ?
I don’t mean to labour or pester or dwell,
But these are the visions that saved me from hell.
They may not be normal, they may not be rife –
But maybe, just maybe, they may change your life.
I’m waiting to hear what you thought of my dears,
Waiting for rapture or rancour or sneers,
Waiting for days and for weeks and for years –
Until they come sheepishly unopened back to me –
And still you will miss how remiss this appears.
I don’t mean to censure or grumble or such,
For you are my friends who have given so much –
Yet still you don’t think or else still you don’t care
When you once again leave me with nothing to share.
Don’t you come around here
I’m warning you, don’t you come around here, boy
Cos I won’t be home, d’you hear ?
Cos I won’t be here when you come around here, boy
So don’t you come knocking I know that you’re in there Said don’t you come knocking You’re silent as sin there There’s nobody home, cos I won’t be unlocking
There’s nobody home, so you don’t you come knocking Your TV is flickering somewhere within there
You’re neighbours are bickering, winos are liquoring
Street kids are snickering. What do I care ?
And I can wait days
And I will
I can wait days, and I’m waiting until
You open your door and you find me here still
You open your door, cos I’m knocking Why you so stubborn ? I guess I just am So stupid and stubborn I’ve no sense for damn You’re shabby and sloven, a slacker and screw
I bet you’re on acid, and reefer, and glue
Your vision is flaccid – your timing is too I guess I’m a bit of a shambles, a clam
I guess that I get it from you Now if you was plumbing to tap me for shaking
You’d better just come in, there’s nothing worth taking It really ain’t that way, I’m hitting a wall
I just need to talk yer, was all You just need to talk, eh ? And split a few beers You just need to talk, after how many years ? Thing is, there’s nobody else I could try
Not Ma. Not the guys. Not Father MacKay
My girl, see, my girl is – well, she’s gone and got…
Well, me too, I guess, it was my fault alot
But I never got no sense for damn You mean you done gone and got your girl with kid ?
Jeez, of all the stupid skid you did !
This takes the slam I know, I know ! What could I do but scram ? Oh. Now I see
You rabbit out and think of me
And hope you find a life so bad
It grits you up to be a dad
But maybe what you find, my lad, is reasons worth to flee
But then one day, some years away, when you ain’t clocking
They may come knocking.
Filing, filing,
They must be got in order,
Thought who’d be such a hoarder
To let them stack so deep ?
Filing, filing,
A papery assortment
Of doggery deportment,
And thoroughly asleep.
Do they rustle out in vain,
And yearn to be of use again ?
Or do they long to end their plight
With damp or flame or paper mite ?
Either way, the data’s piling;
Only remedy is
Filing, filing,
So endlessly abundant,
So battered and redundant,
So crumpled and a-crease
Filing, filing,
They served so well their placement,
So box them in the basement,
And let them rest in peace.
So much emotion invested
In teams over which we have little control;
So many loyalties tested,
Where happiness hangs on a single damn goal.
We buy into brands and we swear that we’re theirs,
But we’ve nothing to offer ’cept hoping and prayers;
So they win or they lose – and at least someone cares,
Though we act like it cost us our soul.
But all of that devotion
For an empty sporting rite
Must leaves no spare emotion
To our fellow humans’ plight:
There’s torture to be ending, and forests to be saving,
There’s justice to be tending, and freedom to be braving;
There’s too much needs defending to waste our flags with waving,
Let’s get our passions working here instead.
We need to get ignited for the good of all the blighted,
Regardless if they’re wearing blue or red.
Just a gentle shove,
Just enough to be affected –
You’ll be coursed with love
Seeking ways to be selected.
Friendship, fear and lust
All combine in equal measure,
Simmer, spark, combust –
Evolutionary pleasure.
Each prosaic nerve
Further drugs the mindtrip you’re on –
They are there to serve,
Hope and love from cell and neuron.
And when they call,
Knowing this will help you not-at-all.
Living in the present, in the middles, not extremities –
No-one owns a raincoat, and no-one’s building memories.
Washing whites with colours, touching wood but never farming trees –
No-one reads the manual, and no-one’s singing harmonies.
