Hello again poetry lovers! Here's another selection of words that I have put together - hopefully - for your enjoyment! " of them I performed at July's Brighton Poetry Society gathering, which was good fun as usual. Next gig is 31st August 2009, Sanctuary Cafe, Brighton. http://www.myspace.com/brightonpoetrysociety


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.

CANCER

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

Here goes, with more prose!

Well, I went to the Brighton Poetry Society gig last night (29 June) and had a lot of fun. There were some great poets on stage and I was slightly nervous...2 pints later (thanks Tom!) and I was ready to go - just in time for the halftime interval! A band went on after that then the mic was opened up again so I seized the chance and did 3 of my poems. They seemed to go down pretty well and I got a good round of applause - so now I've got the poetry bug and can't wait for next month's do! Anyways, here's 2 new poems that I performed last night...


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

Phonetically speaking is what I do
So let me do some phonetics for you
Chocolate, now that should really be
Pronounced C.H.O.C.L.U.T.

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

Words and pictures...

Seeing that Spring has finally sprung and all the little creatures are having their babbies everywhere, I thought that - just like the little baby chicks - I'd let loose my fledgling poetry career!

I've been writing these over the last 2 months or so and I felt it's time to put them out there, so to speak. Hopefuly you'll like them...

WAR-NING
When they heard of the craft

Everybody laughed disbelieving
But the glow in the sky could be seen by the eye
In the evening

There were gasses and smoke

And it suddenly spoke

WARNING!

Don't come any closer

WARNING!

Or you will be toast Sir

Leave us alone and let us roam

There was clanking and a clanging

And a hell of a banging all hours

And some arcs that sent sparks splashing down and around

Just Like showers

With a whoosh up it rose

Just as plain as your nose - again

WARNING!

Watch where we tread

WARNING!

Move or you're dead

Tell the boys and the girls we're here for your world

There was battle - killing cattle

People screaming and running for shelter

Just a sneeze - if you please

Brought the aliens their helter skelter

To the young and the old

The silence was gold

We held up our heads

And we were bold and said

WARNING!

To you up in the stars

WARNING!

This life it is ours

Think it's easy to take

You've made a mistake

WARNING!

BLACK AND BLUE BIRD

Dark are the nights

Darker than daytime could ever be bright

Long gone the sweetdreams

Replaced by thoughts that just are not right

When did you leave?

When did you go without telling me?

You are so crazy

You are so foolish to think I would hide

You man cannot keep me

Keep all my glory buried inside

I let you leave

I let you go without meaning to me

Good are your nights

Glad that you've reached where you had set your sight

I'm on to tomorrow

Sticks and stones no more breaking my bones

Good luck goodbye

One day you will die and you'll think about me

So long - you sigh

Your maker will judge you then where will you be?

I won't be around

I'll be with somebody who's setting me free.

THE HOBO

See him walking aimlessly

Don't know where he's going

He lived his life quite blamelessy

But he is not knowing

Striding gait to shuffle feet

Everybody passes

He relates to nobody

Rejecting all the classes

He's walking free but still feels trapped

Inside his mind and body

With dirty shirt and feet that hurt

His boots are rather shoddy

What does he do? What does he think?

How does he fill his day?

Down on the seafront, up and down

Under blue sky - or grey

At night a cinefilm will run

Flickering to life

A girl - a lover?

No. Not his Mother?

He's got it now - his wife!

She's smiling, waving, blushing, laughing

Bashful for the camera

He feels that time envelope him

It is so good to have her

But all too quickly she has gone

Taken in the prime

And once again he gets caught up

In history and time

So see him walking aimlessly

Don't know where he's going

He lost his Love quite blamelessy

But he is not knowing

Striding gait to shuffle feet

He's lost society's ways

And only walks to get to sleep

Which is when the old film plays

TAKING THE P

I was sitting in the coffee shop by myself

With a magazine that I had picked off the shelf

When a lady walked in and so I thought I

Go up and offer to pay for her order

I'll have a frappacino
And a skinny cappucino

An americano grande

And a small chai latte

All to take away please

And some fresh pastries

Thank you very much you're awfully kind!!!

Well I didn't quite know just what to think

But I paid the bill when she gave me a wink

And before the last croissant got put on a plate

She'd given me her number and arranged a date

So I turned up at the bar with time to spare

She was in a red dress and had done her hair

I put my hand on her's ever so discreetly

Did she want a drink? and she answered sweetly

I'll have a pint of beer

What have you got?

With a chaser of some whisky

And a Tuaca shot

Then that stangely named tipple

Called Slippery Nipple

Sorry Luv, my wallet I can't find!

And I got up and left that girl behind!!!

CANNIBAL CARNIVAL

It's a carnival of cannibals

All of them eating each other

"Look at her, what's she wearing?

Too much lipgloss, Have you seen her lover?"

"Hello darling! How are you?

Lovely to see you." Mwah Mwah Mwah!

"What you working on? Love it! Love it!

Oh that's hilarious" Ha Ha Ha!

"You like that painting? It's so urban

I paid 6 grand for the bloke to paint my curtain

That latest pop fad? It's sooo ironic

And I once owned Rapper's Delight and Dr. Dre's Chronic"

"Cos Darling! I'm down with the streets

I make weird hand signals when I hear Hip Hop beats

I love the music and all it's layers

I even called my P.R. company The Playaz"

"Have you met Richard? He does Feng Shui

Everybody! Everybody! Richards gay!

Do something Dicky - say something camp

I've told them all you'll do it - you dirty little tramp!"

Oh yes my darling, in actual fact

I'll only treat you as a cabaret act

We don't really like you - my friends and me

Next week we'll be onto our new minority!

All (c) 2009 G. Phillips

What A Joke!

As a new feature - once the 'rant' takes me, the text will go bold!

The greediness just keeps on going!

What with all the banks spending our money, asking for the government to give them more of our money to keep them in business, then borrowing more of our money to pay off the debts they incurred while spending our money, then asking for even more of our money to pay themselves bonuses for all the 'hard' work they did in losing our money and then negotiating to get their hands on more of our money - you kinda get the picture!

Then you hear about MP Jacqui Smith who is claiming expenses of £160,000 per year for her 'second home' - the place where she lives to be closer to her work in London. This second home happens to be her Sister's place and according to eyewitnesses (the neighbours) she's hardly ever fucking there! She, of course, denies any wrongdoing and it's all above board and totally legal under the Government rules. So that's the end of that. You would think that it couldn't get any worse wouldn't you? Think again.

A pensioner in my hometown decided to follow all the Government guidelines on energy saving. She had her property insulated and replaced all her lightbulbs with energy saving ones. Margaret Pracy (above) followed all the steps and suggestions and has got her pre-pay meter spending down to around £5 a week - not only saving the planet but also money in these lean times for the general public. So did she get a pat on the back? A certificate from the local council congratulating her on her energy saving diligence? No. She gets a 'fine' from British Gas (her energy supplier) of 54p a week for not using enough energy!!!

This is outrageous. It also says "Don't worry about what the government say, or saving the planet - cos if you do try, we'll charge you for your troubles!" Thing is, when we moved into our flat, the tenants before us were on key meters for both gas and electric. We'd never had them before and we were surprised with just how much money you had to put into these things to stop the supply running out. What's laughable is the fact that key meters are usually targeted at households that are living on or beneath the breadline (you use them just like a pay-as-you-go mobile phone) but when the workman came to replace ours with normal meters, he told us that the price of the gas/electric is actually 25% more than 'normal supplies' - so how exactly does that work out then???

But once more, the big industry gets away with it. We received a gas bill for £279 a fortnight ago. Now, I know I eat a bit but I certainly don't use that much gas to cook with. Yes, we do have the heating on but we have to otherwise Mum would freeze - especially in her current state of health - and the Government advises older people to not freeze to death, turn the heating on if you are cold! Well how the fuck do you think they would be able to afford that? If they did, they'd get a huge bill sent to them, they wouldn't be able to pay it, the computer would automatically send out a reminder, then a red letter, then activate proceedings to retrieve that money, after cutting off the supply of course, then activate legal proceedings, then send round the bailiffs, who with their new powers don't need to knock on the door and can actually break into the property and if the poor old dear is still alive after all the stress on top of the pnuemonia he/she can watch them take away all their valuables and possesions to the value of the exorbitant bill!!!

Don't mater though, this country don't want to know if you're over 60 and/or earning under £60,000, so a cull of them oiks outside that bracket would do Britain the world of good.

When asked on the BBC News what would happen to pensioners and people on the poverty line when British Gas hiked its prices up higher than inflation last year, the British Gas spokesman said they would look into ways they could possibly help they obviously meant help themselves to more money. The spokesman (I suppose I should say spokesperson in these PC times, even though he was a man and he spoke on behalf of the company!!!) also said they were letting people know how to insulate their homes and save not only money but energy and the planet too - you know, the exact same things Margaret Pracy is getting penalized for doing! -

What's also a joke is the fact that British Gas put their prices up with immediate effect but how long do you think it would take to get people into your home to help you make all these money, energy and life saving improvements? After ringing up, going through the loop-de-loop automated phone system, getting the wrong department, loop-de-looping again, getting it all sorted only for no-one to turn up for 3 weeks, ringing back, loop-de-looping again, getting someone different who says "Can't seem to see any note here on the screen about it, you sure you rang the right dapartment, it was someone at this office? I'll put the request in again but it'll take another 2 weeks" getting 3 different contractors round to price up the job, the local authority deciding on who is the cheapest, a wait for the local authority to have a meeting to agree on issuing a grant to pay for the work, a phone call to say when the company is coming, the workmen turning up but the necessary equipment and supplies not being delivered on the right day, the workmen having to go to another job leaving your's half done, then the weekend when they don't work, then back to it the following week, finally finishing it, all in time for either your court case for non payment of an overpriced fuel bill you're looking at, at least, 3 months - or your funeral cos you've died from either hypothermia or all the fucking stress!!!

And to think some people still have the cheek to call this country 'Great' Britain!

Once again we have been shafted!

With everything that is going on in our country concerning the greed of top brass (like the overspending banks being bailed out by the taxpayer - only to find the bosses then give themselves massive bonuses and go on junkets worldwide) the news comes as no surprise that the Police force is now getting in on the act.

Just a few weeks ago, we learnt that our local Police force (Sussex Police) are sitting on a huge slush fund somewhere in the region of £10 million. These slush funds are supposedly there just in case they need them or something unexpected (I suppose something like a disaster or some such) which is all well and good - except that Sussex's fund is more than double the Government's guidelines and the biggest in the country!

Then it was announced that they were asking for a grant for a few hundred grand to supply their poor telephone operators with massages as they worked to keep them de-stressed, awww bless.

On top of those stories was the news that the Chief Constable of Sussex Police is asking for the Police's share of the Council Tax to be increased by more than the rate of inflation - as they need more money.

You think that's the lot? Uh-uh.

Today it was announced that 10 of the top brass had taken upon themselves to book into a luxurious 5 star hotel and conference complex to hold their annual 'plan of action' meeting for the year ahead - and were putting in massive expenses claims!

The greedy so-and-so's decided to have the event at the Grand Hotel at a charge of £2,500 - despite having their own conference facilities only 19 miles away which they paid £900,000 having done up!

The C.C. also put in claims for meals that cost up to £73 a time and between April and September he put in claims totalling £409.25 for just 9 meals!!!

But what can we expect? Look at our Government, they're no better. In fact, for us commoners, there ain't a lot of hope. If you're super rich - come to Britain! You'll get your cocked sucked by MPs and big business, be able to blow all your dough on anything you like and then get it all back via the British Taxpayer. Cheers!

"It's on the British!"

Blogger v Blaggers

Look at these two pictures. They're pretty battered shoes ain't they?





They look like this when new...

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!