Muttering Uttering Nuttering

The guy on the bus, he went fuckin mental,
We'd only just left Manchester Central.
Stopping the 85, driver disabled.
Impatience from all sides enabled.
WHERE AM I? His voice projected,
Near Moss Side - he's disconnected.
I grabbed my chain, observed right in,
Regardless of the crack coke sin.
For his body screams the sign is vacant,
The abuse has left him, screaming latent.
For some just think 'What a nutter'.
The addled mouth in faux filth mutter.
Screaming at a woman, "ARE YOU BLIND?"
He didn't mean to be unkind.
Her shades suggest she couldn't see,
She shrugged in the face of uncertainty.
And finally he found his stop,
Driver frustrated; at last the drop.
A one fingered salute was how they departed,
For the young shop girl had bravely started...
Her voice was calm; she spoke like lamb,
And touched him soft, unlike the gram.
For she had been the one true hero,
When others would have met with zero.

Chittering Shat

What lame arsed line did you just say?

To try and catch me for seedy play?

"Do you think he'll spin some Jagger and Keef'?"

He did, just then, you dribblin queef.

I know you think I'm easy game,

I've seen so much, I'm tried of the same.

To talk to girls in bars is cheap,

Come on man, you're just a creep.

Your breath it smells of desperation,

The beef? I'm guessing perspiration.

But I 'spose you have some kind of balls,

To rally lines and hope they'll fall.

But back up fella, this girl is taken,

Even in fiction my boyfriend fakin',

It's a shame your eyes are blurred with ale,

As this is obviously a fucking fail. 

So piss off will ya' and give me a break,

I only came here to move and shake.

Why not try the girl to my left,

She's drunk so much, dignity bereft.

That whiff of vomit in her lap,

Her fella left her, with water on tap. 

If you're looking for some easy meat, 

Then sit in the gutter, it's in the street.

Or go and find some sweaty sauce,

I'm talking Shish Kebab of course.

So let this be a lesson to all triers,

A girl with respect doesn't need a buyer,

For closed bids only is what I'm after,

And most of all bring me the laughter.

Douillet Tété (a Tété)

The blackbird it screams bullshit,

It's black eye as wide as hell,

Gnawing on meaty bones,

No stories he had to tell.

This cloud of thick vagueness,

It stutters foggy dense,

And that catholic guilt, you spoke of,

In this new age, is past tense.

So open your beautiful blue eyes,

And see the cronies in the midst,

As they're the ones who are dining,

You can see them, dribbling, pissed.

Do you know who you are now?

Can you see what they do?

For those friends that surround,

Don't want you for you.

So keep your royalty,

To lavish on those you crown,

As the ones that kiss your arse,

Are the ones dragging you down.

You're funny, and shy and silly,

And it's all stuffed in nice and tight.

For you're the boss my friend,

Keep it real, boy, keep it in sight.

So return to when you were extra;

Alone, real and pure, 

For that was when the melody,

Lacked the obvious formulaic score.

Listen to your heart, 

As that will speak in honesty,

You don't need borrowed middle eight,

Secure; your admirable modesty.

I hope it works out for you, 

I truly am an admirer.

But watch yourself, illustrated, 

And avoid the twisted that expire. 

Judah's Preach

You gave her a kiss, but you bit off her head,
Anything that could've happened, is instantly dead.
Now she's floating, suspended, thinking 'what if...',
When a small bit-of-banter became an overblown tiff,
You feared that she'd write about you and your ways,
Yet, you don't know of subversion, and the way that it sways.

She wishes you weren't you - you were somebody else,
And that your self-interest, hadn't left you on the shelf,
Whoever hurt you, whoever shut you down,
It's completely irrational, the Judah-in-crown,
But you hide away, mournful, licking your paws,
And you've unwittingly closed all of those doors.

Your prey wanders free, and prospers content,
When you got it all wrong, you didn't know what she meant.
Now you think in your cage you have a problem of sorts,
When she closed the door on lovers-in-court.
But time rolls by, the moment has passed,
It's a shame you missed out on that great piece of ass.

So you want to know how I'm doing?

I'm just super...anyone else want to take a shot? 

images courtesy of Lauren Kay Davies

Marked

I am not crying for me, I am crying as I cannot help Marked,
He paces endlessly like a caged animal - because that's what he is.
We are animals.

He spoke to me for the first time today, he asked me to protect him,
And right now I can't. I am helpless. Because I am a caged animal too!

These tears are for you.

17.11.11.

The Sickest Kick

Where were you when we got sick?
Working 9 to 5, busy in smoke, thick.
Your S.H. lacks any service or health;
You're far too busy counting up your wealth;
Your cars, your frocks, your deco garnet rings,
Enveloped in power with fraudulence it brings.
Speaking to ones whom mouths tell no truth,
Your silence projects no form of couth.
Your lies, your words, they don't mean shit.
Where were you when we got sick?
You could have rang, you could have spoke,
Yet you remained gagged and made me choke.
My hurt is infinite; awash with anger,
Yet the days passed, and I waited longer.
The call - when it came - was dripping in fable
And you're the one calling me unstable?
So treat your patience as I'd expect;
Lacking concern, but now regret.
Who has felt the strongest kick?
Where were you when we got sick?

Satellite

Do you know just how important you are?

For tolerance and acceptance from those afar.

Your face is always a pleasure to see,

You are the glue; essential to society.

Some people they may ridicule,

But ignorant fuckers are so cruel.

WE love those questions, and that banter,

As you visit the spots, a weebling canter. 

I miss your face when you disappear, 

But it won't be long till you reappear.

For I get it, I do, I totally understand,

You're anxious, that's fine, showing hand.

Once I tried to hug too much,

You then recoiled, unable to touch.

Though I knew it wasn't only me,

It's one of those things I didn't see.

But don't be shy, let's see those moves,

And ease up on Arabian blues.

For it will work out for them, you'll see,

Revolution and greed will be the key;

Uprising? Gas it will decline.

It'll work out man, it's going to be fine.

Oh dearest Pat, you make me smile,

Walking your beloved Golden Mile.

For you are truly loved by those who know,

When you're around, we know there's a show.

Bird of Rosacea

The milk we knew was sour,
It was never even sipped.
Rosacea; cracked and dour;
Baby bird mouthed; needy lipped.
You gave the bird no option,
To do it by themselves,
For support had had no gumption,
In helping you help yourself.

As the tiny baby bird grew;
Shy, awkward, misunderstood,
Her youthful wings were clipped,
By the sick, progressed through mud.
They flew and left the nest,
To escape the fat cuckoo,
The birdsong mute at best.
Unanswered, what to do?

But the little chick had grown,
Into the one you see,
When she flew the sickened home,
Unsupported; what would be?
Whatever was slung and thrown;
It fell from tattered plume.
So do you see that had grown?
Beyond the sick catacomb.

She dances and sings sweet freedom,
And laughs and loves with heart.
Her escape had found the Kingdom,
Against the guns; poisoned dart.
For the bird still flies alone and free,
And will not be stopped nor crossed,
The wings extend long, you see,
The Bird of Rosa - Albatross.

The Gentle Con

Ha ha, you laughed,
And accused me of such malice.
Whilst you stay, Dolly Daydream,
Inland in your stagnant palace.

The drink, a gamble;
You profess no sense,
Just an extension of your shamble,
In aiding a downfall, tense.

You said do me a favour?
I fired, send me the papers.
I do not need emissive non-labour,
From one who commits idiot capers.

You think you know best,
Remote, away from the truth,
Yet it was me who was to invest,
Roulette wheel - a private pursuit.

For one who did nothing,
And omitted his intoxication,
Yet, still he did nothing,
The downfall of procreation.

I ask, do me a favour?
Keep your concern out of my life,
For I'm not yours to savour,
Not your trouble, not your strife.

You had your chance,
I tried to show you the way,
But eyes remained blinkered,
Mouths did not honesty say.

They say you still love her,
A pointless exercise,
As she lost it long ago,
A gradual - obvious - demise.

An empty vow,
That had nought within it,
A con it seemed within the home.
And so it continues infinite...

Perhaps she'll find the secret,
A meat-only-jaundiced-mess.
One who consumes on the quiet,
And sunbathes all-inclusive for less.

I wished you well,
I meant it true, completely,
But any help you ever gave me,
Was clearly interest-free only.

So now it is the end,
I mean for real this time,
Because what once was yours,
Is - really - now just mine.

So send me the writ,
As our journey is at the end.
And let's forget this bit.
Holy union? No, I pretend.

Repeat, Repeat, Heartbeat It Beats.

Repeat, repeat,
Heartbeat it beats,
And here we go again,
The one I had my eye on,
Is another one in pain.
Perhaps this is universal,
This is a perma-state.
When eyes and minds are closed;
I hope I'm not too late.
It must be the major,
As times they are so hard.
I seem to be a hoarder,
Of damanged collector cards.
So let me in for mischief,
And chat, and laughs galore.
Perhaps I hand you my hand,
In opening up the door.
Though this can be done solo,
You could do it D.I.Y.
But have you got a grasp of it,
Do you know the reason why?
A problem held it doubles,
And rides upon your back.
But don't worry my sullen friend,
My heart it will not attack.
So let me in for helps sake,
You can't do this on your own.
For the one who remains unopened,
Is the one that stays alone.
Repeat, Repeat,
Heartbeat it beats.
You need not be afraid,
For I only want to help you,
Not allow me to be laid.
So back up little brother,
And see what I can do,
For my motive is not sinister,
Why would I want to hurt you?
Someone must have come along,
And broke your life in two,
Remember times will always change,
They'll become electric for you.
So ride this time as best you can,
And hold your head up high,
For now you should tall posture,
And dream toward the sky.
So don't take this on in single,
Let the ones who love you touch,
Come out from your sanctuary,
It doesn't take too much.
Repeat, repeat,
Heartbeat it beats.
Repeat, repeat,
Heartbeat it beats.

Rough Wood

I didn't want to mention,

Though I have some information,

You can't think of refrigeration, 

For you know the situation.

Don't blow the lobe inflation.

You're going to miss the station,

Distracted by congregation,

Yet in need of aviation.

Don't idle on fine vacation,

As you've got a proclamation,

It's not an adaptation,

This drawn-out situation.

An endless dead location,

Make sure of correlation,

They have their expectation.

To soothe a sickly nation.

You know the implication.

So speed up exaltation, 

For we need a celebration,

Of child-like demonstration. 

So hurry up with gumption,

We need your salutation,

Don't open to corruption,

Just do your dissertation!

Snake Flower

Your nag is not the champa,
The scent will never be the same,
It's nauseous permanence a damper,
In memoriam of empty game.

So pass me the fragrant note,
One that rings white pure,
In memory of love and respect,
It's bound in smoke, folklore.

You're doing alright Jacque,
You have support, go on fly.
Now don't you dare look back.
Stay focused on your sky.

Because the snake tree smells putrid,
It's toxic venom oozes red.
And the smell that once was lucid,
Now reminds me of the dead.

My friend Steven

You're my favourite friend called Steven, 

And today I pen you this,

You're not a jerk like Martin,

Or a broke McQueen on the piss,

You wouldn't wrestle a croc,

And then get stung by a ray,

Because you're clever, and hilarious, 

And today's your special day! 

I'm glad you're my friend Steven,

Not even Fry can compare.

How could he, when the posh fop

Wouldn't wear spandex for a dare!

Jobs is no longer here,

And Merchant is a freak,

Tyler's lips scare small kids,

He's a lady dude, that shouldn't speak.

So don your mask, pussycat! Be proud of who you are,

For you're my friend, Steven;

Pooting around in your comic car. 

Blow on something noisy, and ring a tiny bell, 

For you're the bestest Steven, 

And damn that hair's so swell!

Don't ever call him Steve, just make sure it's Ste or Stevie.

It's akin to calling Saint and then turning up with Greavsie.

So let's hear you Clive Coogan, 

As you writhe and spaz with fun, 

If I was with you today, 

I'd have baked you an oversized bun (a muffin).

Mildred at 21

I know the lights hurt you, because they hurt me too.

The memories flicker, and fire bright blue,

You lie there in pain, no one knows what to say.

Your inflections reveal, this could be any day.

Mildred, young girl, you lie awake at night,

Gaining some comfort from the darkened respite.

Mildred, old girl, you were once just like me,

But your memory stutters, and one becomes three.

I spoke to you gently and smoothed back your hair,

If only they knew, then maybe they'd care,

The pain in your side is apparent to see,

Yet help is denied, and they had to stop me.

I held your hand tight, and whispered your name, 

The brightest blue iris, its beauty to blame.

Your chatter, your calls, it doesn't matter what you said,

For the Mildred that once was, is now left unread.

BIG NEWS! EXCLUSIVE (ish)

I found this today, and it made the tasiest bifkinpie ever. You will love it.

Dive in friends and see where you're going.

Can you see the future?

Good luck.

Get off your arse, and let's get to work.

UPDATE: banoffee cream pie

This is for all my sexy fans across the world - I love you!

Thanks for all the under-the-counter pain relief, chums. Do not in anyway feel responsible for my untimely death. 

Utmost

I saw a spark: a fire, a fight,

The utmost underdog might have might,

Endlessly - though - how wrong we've been,

A passive plea that should have gone unseen.

The saboteur is happy in fractious control,

To avoid the reality of being out-of-control.

But it's back to the start; repeat, rinse, recycle.

We've been here before, it's part of the cycle. 

Push it away! Your perspective is twisted:

Lethargic, gnarly, blackened and blistered.

Look to the sky, please find the light, 

I pray the utmost underdog might have might.

Hey wiseguy...!

...Yeah well your momma is so fat, she died whilst having a gastric. Now can we please put an end to all this and just be cordial to each other?

Is your shit perfect?

I did a gig tonight. I did a gig I'm a fan of at XS Malarkey. I was introduced as experimental, which was quite the compliment even though immediately people will be edgy (see it?)  about seeing the special kid, but I don't mind at all starting on the back foot, it's my preferred start. There was laughter, and a lot of silence. I'm not scared of silence; I originally thought I was a while back, but that was just tinnitus pain dressed as silence - that's thankfully not been a problem of late. I'm also okay with dying, as in really dying; so dying on stage isn't an issue when you've been around the stench of death so frequently.

Thank you comedy displacement.

The energy between crying and laughing is so fine that does it make any odds to how you exit that tense knot welling inside? I guess that's why I love hysteria so much - such a borderline emotion, and quite the ride. 

I know I've flippantly discussed death before and my reasoning for not fearing it, but really, now really, do you seriously think you're going to be spending much time worrying about life in death? No because you won't be able to  - and you think I'm the morbid one?

Why did Nick Griffin banish his goth son? Cos he liked wearing all blacks. 

I've been on stage 3 times in a week, it's been the only time I haven't felt ACTUAL pain, emotional pain doesn't even figure. It's been an odd relief to get that high. Thank god for comedy in these difficult times.  

That's my analysis over. My last solo stand up gig of the year is next Tuesday. Then I'm going to have a break, get well, write more, and launch into the physical wonderment of 'Sheeebeast Vs The Masked McGee' for several slots before Christmas and into the New Year. I can only try and polish one turd at a time.

Heard the one about Gillian McKeith's split from her rapper boyfriend? He dumped her cos she wouldn't quit analysing his shit.

It's a good job when you don't take yourself seriously. 

Adios Beads x

Free spirits for all!

Hello, so things have moved forward haven't they? Apparently my mum said I have a fan, so I'd best give an update into how the bifkinpie is stewing. It smells of warm Autumn dumplings that are essentially damp and musty in texture. But, aren't we all this time of year?

I've been working hard on secret things that aren't that secret, but everyone loves an enigma. Like Tom Jones' wife. I'll just say I've made some wonderful new friends over the past year and for that I am very thankful. I've had some amazing experiences, and I've loved going to work. I've also stopped drinking for a 90 day stint, and day 51 is going great, thanks for your concern.

Things are moving forward the way I like within my work and study and personally. It's ace. I have noticed that my awkwardness and sporadic shyness has lessened since I took my headphones off; which as a muso and radio broadcaster - for the best part of half of my life - has been a good habit to break. Why didn't I see it earlier? Clown.

Anyway, to a reality. I've always felt a little bit in the lurch with regards to physics, naturally I'm going to shift the blame here to an appalling teacher and my "I don't understand that" (shut down) stance. Another example, the people who decide that they can't catch, will never catch (incidentally learning to catch takes around 20 minutes to get, 'can't' catchers).

I researched schooling in West Yorkshire today. I found a progressive school. They apply their studies in a practical, physical way, because that's relevant, right? It's actually more likely that ADHD is a permanent state, but one we refuse to acknowledge en masse as it doesn't align with big societies control.

My appalling GCSE physics teacher would slink off for very long skives leaving us to fill in worksheets, unable to apply a method to a reality many lose interest due to a lack of involvement and understanding - me for one! Naturally, being a dick, I cocked about with my good friend Bec and the nice big boys; seeing how many goggles we could get on our heads in the quickest time before he returned, cutting the word 'poo' out of a paper towel and laying it on the projector for illuminated hilarity was a failure, but seeing how many metre rulers you could retrieve from the front of the room in a stiff legged fashion scored a record of 8. Those were the days.

The physical world of which we were once so attached is now becoming so removed from our lives a LOL contains as much sincerity as a full-stop. People are burying their faces in computer games and computer life and computer dating and computer work and computer language and computer etiquette. We're fat, we're lazy, we don't 'work out'. We don't work out with each other. We're becoming introspective, 2D and focus on dealing with an unreal reality of online socialising, and in turn are becoming less outwardly social in reality. Tucked away, safe from instinct, unable to act with spontaniety, calculating every movement. We're not built to do this!

How will we be firmly rooted in an autonomous interactive era when a resistance is natural? The answer is, we won't. The resistance is coming. Pomp, pomp pompetty pomp. The regression to Utopia will always override Dystopian leanings, because we're instilled with faith and together we are nails.

And what will we learn from faciabook? Probably not an awful lot. Other than we can have an infinite persona, that we did look better when we were younger without realising, and the friends we need the most will always be there. Predictably.

Depending on your level of interaction, the facebook soap opera of bullshit may as well be the same as drinking stagnant pond water. Oh boy. That tastes bland. So switch off your 2D and come and play in the 5D.

Good luck Quantum Foragers and balls to social networking. Get me on an email letter sometime. Or just send me your beams.