Monday, 3 August 2009
This first poem is about, well, the title says it all. My Mum recently passed away and I felt like I wanted to put my feelings down on paper. I didn't want to write a really dark brooding poem though as my Mum took the whole thing on the chin and put up a bloody good fight. I also hate the term 'lost her/his battle with cancer' cos it sounds like the person has just given up and I feel it kind of weakens their image somewhat when they have been anything but weak.
I want to leave it here
And not bring it home
What does it want with you
What does it want with us?
Why does it do it?
I kinda feel non-plussed
I want to punch it, fight it
Hit it, stomp it - really fuck it up
You take it better than me
I guess that's way more tough
And I love you, really love
And this fucking thing inside
Is like an evil bastard phoetus
Who chose you in which to hide
There, now I'm swearing at this thing
Swearing my soul to hell
Well if I go there then I hope
To meet that fucking thing as well
But you calm me down
Yes, even now
Keeping me on track
I'm with you now and we'll have that always
It can't take that back
Hands held, smiles swapped, hair brushed, eyes met
These things can't be undone
So do them now, don't think ahead
That way we will have won.
At the last poetry meeting there were a lot of female poets - which is great - and they were doing a lot of love hurts/men are bastards kinda thing, so I thought I'd balance things up a bit, albeit tongue in cheek. Can't wait to perform this one next month he!he!
THE BEST A MAN CAN GET
Oh I've heard you girls talk of P.M.T.
So let a man now have his turn
Cos I know you suffer once a month
But everyday we have razorburn!
We have to scrape scrape at our face
To get the clkean cut look
That grace all the pages
In that Elle or Grazia book
It seems to be quite de rigueur
For a guy if he wants to start dating
But pull that % blade sensor over your skin
And the pain's excrutiating
One blade lifts, the second one cuts
The other 3 slit your throat
Leaving you with a rash - just above your collar
Like some blood red castle moat
I suffered with it all my adult life
The only way it disappeared
Was not through posh cosmetics
But because I grew a beard
So girls just settle down would you
And think before you all start raving
What bleedin' pain in the neck it would be
If, like a bloke, you had to start daily shaving!
Break Your Heart Baby is one of the songs that I have co-written with Corky Burger for our Santa Clara Group ( http://www.myspace.com/thesantaclaragroup ) for my performance of it I added an extra verse and took out the choruses. The whole idea of the song was writing lyrics with references to other songs and artists - see how many you can spot.
BREAK YOUR HEART BABY
Dolly had a dagger
And old Mack he had a knife
He ran around with Suzy
'Til she bacame his wife
Tommy had a broken heart cos she ran away
Looking out his window almost every single day
I wish I had a penny for the hearts that Debbie smashed
I'd take them to the bank
As a stack of Johnny Cash
The girly she had legs that she knew how to use
And I was sharply dressed
So she couldn't refuse
We spent our life together
Living there in old Boomtown
She always made me happy
And didn't bring me down
Some say that they would like to die
Before they fade to grey
But I'm alive and kicking
And it's such a lovely day!
All (c) G.Phillips
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
This first one is based on my experiences being a DJ over the years...
THE DREADED REQUESTER
I'm not a fucking jukebox
Sorry, no requests allowed
There's always one comes up to you
When you rock a crowd
You don't like the track I'm playing
Telling me what I need to do
Out of 200 people here
The only one is you
"What would fit
Right in - right now
Would be some Fatboy Slim"
I'm playing funk and soul and rock
I ain't fucking playing him!
"Call yourself a DJ?"
Yes I do - I have for years
I love my music, always have
From when I first had ears
But you've been dancing all night long
So why start being a pain?
Go wait for the next track
Don't fucking speak to me again!
The next one is based on me being from Whitehawk - a council estate in Brighton - where we speak all common like! Dropping H's etc. Not exactly the Queens Hactual Henglish don't you know?!
(In this poem, where the words are spelled out i.e. C.H.O.C.L.U.T. you say each letter, ok!)
Phonetically speaking is what I do
So let me do some phonetics for you
Chocolate, now that should really be
For amazing, drop the A from the beginning
And it's F.I.N.G.
When you spell out 'thing' and
Fell free to use F.R. double E for the number
and E.R. becomes an A on that last word - like when you're spelling 'Rumba'
B.A.R dash B dash Q at B.N.Q
Lets break that down
Means barbecue at B & Q
With dropped A and D cos you make the 'un' sound
But with some words spelling them right
Takes less effort than putting sound into sight
Like P.O.E.T.R and Y
Is said P.O.E.R.T.R. double E
And not poe - try
So here's my last example
If you needed more proof
After I'm done here, I'm going home to my bed
Under my own R.U.T.H. - roof!
All (c) G. Phillips
Sunday, 14 June 2009
When they heard of the craft
But the glow in the sky could be seen by the eye
In the evening
BLACK AND BLUE BIRD
TAKING THE P
And a skinny cappucino
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
But some wanker brought them back to our shop today and asked for a new pair of shoes as he said they were faulty and shouldn't have gone like that in such a short space of time.
He had the receipt and when he gave it to us we saw that he'd had them 3 months. Yeah, 3 months of wearing them in all weathers, to every house/commune party, club, pub and illegal rave on the beach. Up the organic allotment with Tarquin 'Moonmonkey' Barclay-Dentalplaque, over the Southdowns countryside walk with the dogs, out around town putting up posters for your mate's Psy-trance night, to the farm farm for the cider festival, blackberry picking, fishing and generally anything else that Hugh Fernly-Wittingshall does on his River Cottage cookery programmes, to Lewes bonfire celebrations, Christmas Day booze-up and Boxing Day Morris Dancing specatacle and generally any other get together your rustic/pagan, right-on upper middle class, vegan, hippy, snobby anarchist set deem to go to to get wasted at and take the piss out of the people who genuinely do enjoy these things and try and ruin their day to amuse you and your chums!!!
I mean, what type of person keeps their receipt for 3 months? A blagger, that's who.
Now We've all blagged a bit in our time. Embellishing on a CV to get a job, tryng to get in to a club for free or even backsatge at a gig. But these twats think it's their right to be able to take something back that they've worn the shit out of - and get a free pair! In fact, I have had one person bring back a really old pair of Adidas with a receipt that he'd bought a new pair with a few weeks before and try and say they were the one and the same! Good job the receipt lists the items - but do they really think we're that thick? We love trainers and we know our stock inside out. Everyone of us has worked in 'the industry' for years but oh no, we're just dumb shop assistants - they won't know the difference. STOP WASTING OUR FUCKING TIME!!! In the end we took them and are gonna send them away for an 'inspection'. (We've done this before and they've come back as 'wear and tear' NO REFUND!)
He wasn't pleased with that outcome, he wanted a brand new pair of shoes there and then - which if we had given them to him, no doubt would have returned in a few months again - tough shit mate!
I just wish I could say that to them without losing my job!