Tuesday, October 9, 2012

What the what?!

Liz Lemon soundboard. Press the buttons and your favorite spirit guide speaks.
Over and out.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Super productive Sunday afternoons.

Er, don't mind the cheesy old picture, and never you mind that there's not even a hint of guitar in this.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

October skies & Belgique.

Belgium's great.
Also...free concert right outside our hotel? Mmm, okay. Obvs.

More moody poetry, mmmkaythanks. Like or hate it, let me know, yeah? Been in a bit of a poetry mood apparently.

I don't know how one would attempt
to describe it
other than broken-hearted wee
but I will try.
She was like that brilliant
plume of white
factory smoke
across October skies
a cloud
against clouds.
Watching her wee/eeep gave you
that same desperate
but in your belly
more than your throat innit?
Her twisty mouth like covering yourself
in fresh grass
in a field sumwhere
and staying there.
And kicked dogs are mentioned
quite often: "she looks
like [sic]."
But I am more
brought to mind
of the hopelessness
of the old people in that awful brick building
we just passed
or the surreal nastiness of the hanged dog
in that fancy-new-raw-whatsit
Heathcliff thing
er film
where it is ALWAYS
October skies.
So that's why I can't help.
you do understand.
of course of course of but of course you do.
Because a kicked puppy
I can clutch to my ample bosom
and give a bone and maybe a snuggle
but a hanged one I can only pity
and throw up
and bury.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Make That Three

Omaha Beach and the American Cemetery today.

This is like, er, straight from ma heart and all, so if you like it, yeah, words to that effect would be awesome, and if you don't, that's cool, it's okay, there are no claims to being great here, but...er, gentle, constructive criticism? Thanks mate.

Visiting the D-Day beaches and the American & German cemeteries though...seriously a transcendent experience.

I only know one person
- two - who have died.
I cried more
over Moe
who was 17
and my cat
than I did for my grandma
and great-granny
Make that three
but he lives -
lived - in the desert
and I rarely saw him
and so it's not real
is my understanding.
So 3000 graves is a bit much, yeah?
for an 18-year-old
who only knows
- make that 3 -
people who've
"passed on".

My great-granny
looked strange
when she was dead
I remember the room felt pink
like cloying, really warm
and she looked ridiculous.
And she was crabby
so I'm sure she agreed
and she'd have scolded
that mortician
Scolded him roundly.

I don't much like
to think about death
when I do it gets into my tea,
the taste of
the thought of
the inevitable-it-will-happen-without-exception-to-all-every-single-you-love-ness
of death.
So these white stones
and red lawn-mowers
make me tired and a little angry
- which I'm not used to -
but really sad
I've gone from
- make that three -
I hardly grieved
or don't believe
to a father and son I didn't know
but am sitting on this freezing bench
kind of crying over.