Sunday, 24 February 2013


In one diary I wrote
seriously something I didn't do

and isn't it weird
how skin pops
when it's burnt
even bubbles appear
instead of burst

I wrote down
the rejection letter
but not that
just to fill in
another space

I cared mildly

behind one door in every street
sits a genius suicide some

or they shake hands
with a tall American
and make it up
as they go

there was a boy
smashed his guitar
on the cover of the NME
I heard why he's rich
now in IT

and one who does something
humane for chickens
he said I was
the most committed gig goer
he knew
like a temporary blond

how they get grey faced
from sitting not lacking
for a stretch of undernourishment

fed up with thinking
I'll never write another


the buzzer went and
he asked what day it was

a great excuse to
power blink and pretend
I saw
nothing with my eyesight

who'd pop a gun for glory
when we were
spinning Herb Alpert


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