Tuesday, 24 September 2013

Friday, 20 September 2013

The Roomz 18.09.2013

Been to war, Butterfly-butterfly, Silver moon.

Wednesday, 11 September 2013

Whistle Trago, 10.09.2013

 Voices, DreamingSilver Moon

Norman Arms, St Leonards 09.09.2013

This Boy, Betty, Butterfly butterfly, Hollington Girls, Hastings, Stick, Silver Moon, A

Hastings Arms 04.09.2013

Stick, Silver Moon, A

Friday, 30 August 2013

The Roomz 29.08.2013

This Boy, Betty, Bottle Alley, Stick, No tomorrow, A, Hollington Girls, String, Been to War, On Malvern Way Again, Start all over again, Butterfly butterfly, Rebecca, Take it easy, Help Me, Hastings.

Whistle Trago 27.08.2013

This Boy, No tomorrow, Help Me, A, Hastings.

The Roomz St Leonards 14.07.2013

A, Help Me, No tomorrow, Hollington Girls, Hastings.

Whistle Trago 06.08.2013

This Boy, Betty, Help Me.

Hastings Arms 31.07.2013

This Boy, When love finally hits you, Hastings.

Whistle Trago 30.07.2013

A, Been to War, Hastings.

Sunday, 28 July 2013

The Roomz St Leonards 24.07.13

A, Gone, Help Me, Near to me.

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

Thursday, 18 July 2013

Tin tin's, Hastings 18.07.13

A, Hollington Girls, Hastings.

Hastings Arms 17.07.13

This Boy, When Love finally hits you, Butterfly butterfly.

Sunday, 14 July 2013

Whistle Trago 14.7.13.

Copper Kettle, A, Brodie, No tomorrow, When Love finally hits you..., This Boy, Hollington Girls, Bottle Alley, Out of the Blue, String, Been to War, The Force that through the green fuse..., On Malvern Way Again, Isla-Lola, Start all over again, Peter Only, Vegan Eat, Betty, Butterfly butterfly, Near to me, Name of Antony, Joan, Hastings.

Thursday, 11 July 2013

The Roomz, St Leonards. 10.07.13.

No tomorrow, When Love finally hits you.

Whistle Trago, 09.07.13

On Malvern Way again, Been to War, Hastings.

Thursday, 4 July 2013

The Royal Oak, Rye 4.7.12

Betty, Butterfly-butterfly, No tomorrow, A, Peter Only.

Monday, 1 July 2013

White Horse, Bodle Street Green 1.07.13

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower..., Brodie.

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Whistle Trago, 25.06.13

This Boy, Name of Antony, Bottle Alley.

The Grey Lady, Tunbridge Wells 24.06.13

This Boy, Brodie.

Wednesday, 19 June 2013

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Wednesday, 12 June 2013

Hastings Arms 12.06.13

Near to me, Hollington Girls, Betty, String, A.

Whistle Trago 11.06.12

A, Betty, Hollington Girls, Hastings.

Wednesday, 5 June 2013

Whistle Trago 4.6.13

String, Christmas in Ore.

Monday, 25 February 2013

Beg?


Don’t send that email to your mum just yet
She might not understand what we’ve been through
Or care about the true cause of our debt
When she herself has many problems too.
Perhaps it’s better for us to pretend
That all is fine and that we can afford
To live without the money she might lend
If our electronic begging strikes a chord?
For must we not each face life on our own
And try to make ends meet when fortune shrugs?
Perhaps I should take back my mobile phone
Or maybe we can give up drink and drugs?
But let's not ask your mum, who’s such a snob
She’ll probably just suggest I find a job.

Friday, 22 February 2013

Crown of Sin (1/7 Wrath)


Let’s contemplate, and weave a crown of sin
And for this task let Anger kick us off
Why is it bad if my blood should begin
To boil and fill my soul with burning Wrath?
When shitty modern life drives me insane
And nothing in the world seems to make sense
How can I clear a space inside my brain
Or relax when the pressure’s most intense?
I hit the kids when I’m pissed off, so what?
I swear at cunts who cut me up in cars
Love and peace man, they mean diddley-swat
I like to get in fights at night in bars
‘Cause Anger can be power and I trust
That Wrath is no more sinning than is Lust

Crown of Sin (2/7 Lust)


That Wrath is no more sinning than is Lust?
Well Lust cannot be sin ‘cause it’s such fun
That glorious softness into which I thrust
Has been there ever since the world begun
The shadow beneath tits from far away
A subtle glance behind which pleasures lurk
Is procreation to be led astray?
I fantasise, and crack one off at work.
Though not just all desire’s of the flesh
I also yearn to join a country club
But when love fails to keep libido fresh
I fuck the sluts I pick up down the pub
Or buy a blowjob in a darkened street
Then on my way back home I stop and eat

 

Thursday, 21 February 2013

Crown of Sin (3/7 Gluttony)


Then on my way back home I stop and eat
To indulge in delicious so called ‘sin’
Kebab and chips with Gluttony’s sweet deceit
That keeps my bloated stomach feeling thin
But still there’s emptiness that must be filled
I eat and eat and eat until I hurt
Spicy sausage, salmon, steamed and grilled
‘Till stuffed I am with undone jeans and shirt
And then I pack my face with Chocolate Goo
And Belgian waffles topped with toffee sauce
That’s washed down with a pint of coke or two
And thrown up on the pavement of remorse.
My body’s racked with hunger, I must feed
For Gluttony keeps me busy, just like Greed

Crown of Sin (4/7 Greed)


For Gluttony keeps me busy, just like greed
I love to shop for things that I adore
Though buy one get one free’s not all I need
But more and more and more and more and more
Six cars and sixteen brand new shiny suits
Three houses and a twenty-five foot yacht
Ten pairs of sixteen hundred dollar boots
Another golden bling-ring like I’ve got
So tell me why you think that I should share
When everything’s still not enough for me
You cannot win, but why should winners care
If you can’t feed your children. Can’t you see
That Capitalism doesn’t make mistakes?
The rich man should be proud of what he takes

Crown of Sin (5/7 Pride)


The rich man should be proud of what he takes
We all know Pride’s not sin, nor a disease
The artist who’s ashamed of what he makes
Will find it hard to find someone to please.
Conspicuous consumption’s all the rage
I flaunt with Pride the trophies I have won
Why shove my glorious victories in a cage
And not upon the front page of The Sun?
As much a sin it is then, not to show
The way I feel when feeling’s filled with pride,
As is this sin from which all others grow.
Should I be modest and pretend that I’d
Not felt the joy of feeling envious eyes
Upon me where no envy’s in disguise?

Crown of Sin (6/7 Envy)


Upon me, where no envy’s in disguise,
Are placed the burdens of a wanting mind
Beyond the doors of envy, treasure lies
What’s yours that’s worth desire, is there to find.
The grass is always greener and I say
“Well done”, “Good luck”, “I love you” but I lie
Your winning keeps my happiness at bay,
And makes me sort of wish that you would die
What’s wrong with hoping you lose all you own?
My Envy keeps ambition hard and quick
Though now I’m feeling broken and alone
I’ll build myself what you’ve got brick by brick
Beginning with your suit of Nessus’ cloth,
Such wealth I’ll get when finally rid of sloth

Crown of Sin (7/7 Sloth)


Such wealth I’ll get when finally rid of sloth
But not today though, hey, let’s just relax…
Turn on the TV, turn my brain back off
Smoke a spliff, feel my body change to wax
Spend a bit of time on my Play Station,
MaƱana’s what I think they say in French,
What I need’s a really long vacation,
Go down to the park and sleep on a bench
In the sun, with my feet up, can’t be arsed
To do anything else. Nothing will come
Of nothing, but the first will still be last
And the last be first… now I’m feeling numb…
Can’t think… bad breeds bad… Sloth lets anger in…
Let’s contemplate, and weave a crown of sin…

Friday, 15 February 2013

Now

Control your heart
Enjoy this now
Don't let it slip away.
For plenty future memories
Are taking place today.

Run

You think there is a thing in life
That seems to you a curse,
But if you from a problem run
You will run in reverse.

Get rich from your blog!

I never thought that blogging,
Would make me rich one day
Nor that writing poems
Should be done to earn some pay
But now I know, and you can see
(From the picture on the right)
That I've already got 20p
And the future's looking bright!


Beside the headboard

Beside the headboard, the window shakes
Next to the grey the blue is startled
Close your eyes to the noise in your head
Let your knowing let you leave
Understand all forgiving
Lie down and take it
Rest with it
And go.

Sunday, 27 January 2013

There's one little room...

There's one little room that is quiet,
When the rest of the house is a riot,
Reading books on the loo,
While you're having a poo,
Is really quite good, you should try it!

Friday, 25 January 2013

"Does anyone remember laughter..."

It's a long time ago that I laughed like that. Every time my children can't control themselves and crack up and fall to the floor in hysterics I must confess a little jealousy. I laughed like that once; Watching TV with my dad, or in school at Chapel Practice with friends, where we acted like five-year-olds but were really just enjoying the stupidity of being. Once for a month or two while working as a lifeguard at an outdoor pool in Denmark during their coldest summer ever; bored but with people of a similar age, being silly but laughing and laughing every day, to the point of tears, and going home with exhausted stomach muscles, back to the reality of my life back then. I laughed watching 'Sleepers' and watching 'Fawlty Towers' and watching other things that I can't even remember anymore...

When I laugh now it's almost impossible to let go, and what comes from me is little more than a sardonic chuckle...

"See that little child a laughing
In the shade of that golden tree
He laughed so much he started crying
I wish that little child was me..."

(Silver Moon https://soundcloud.com/stream by me!)


Wednesday, 23 January 2013

Brownsville Girl...

Hard to begin on this. Where to start. Something about a mixture of the past and present. Something about a record shop and tears, hearing it and bowing. Something about times when it's all there is and all there is to aspire to. Something about rumours of him writing lyrics, those lyrics, there in the studio, not all of them but always changing. Something about "You can please some of the people part of the time and part of the people all of the time..." and "I'll see him in anything, so I'll stand in line." But it's even deeper really, there's a woman and freedom and a painted desert and "...people who suffered together having stronger connections than those who are most content." and other things dropped effortlessly from a talking tongue that sings. And the rising background and the "Oh, yeah...???" And fame and dreams again, and fame and the gunfighter and defeat and the inevitability and the forever and ever of both those things and Gregory Peck quoting slightly wrong, and another singer's mistake "is... was..." "and forgetfulness at lyrics and the backing ladies getting it right but all wonderfully, so he, and so meant to be wrong and perfect. Like all the other mistakes and moments of clarity. Sometimes this is all there is and all there needs to be... this is truth and truth is this...

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Wordle, Wordle.

Wordle, wordle
Scrabble too
Make my brains
All turn to glue
Make my heart
Run hot and cold
And make all sounds
Seem new and old

For what's the use
in being nerds
And getting points
For making words
Tripple letter,
Double third,
Xi for thirty
Zoo absurd!

Yes what's the point
It's all just crap
A waste of time
Delete that App
I hurl my phone
Out in the bin...

Then blame my wife
'Cause I can't win...

Sunday, 20 January 2013

This thing that I am not.


There will always be this thing, that I am not but that others are. As I struggle unnoticed, with children and am passed, going the other way, by two men in a Porsche, speeding their own way up a slippery, snow-clad hill. Yet I will also be he who is watched as he drives off, or around another, different, corner.
I will never be he who steps over the winning line having done 10K in under thirty minutes or who scores the winning English try. Yet I will grow old as these others do, and pass along in their fashion too, filled to the brim with me, me, me.
I will never, again, be the person forced to be part of me through blood. To be proud and yet at times doubtful of that father’s sanity, watching myself in the mirror as one and another in line, step over and into life. Never will I be he, bound in snow and ice, who stands waiting for the next rain.
Stand on that position now, neither here nor there nor gone. Turning again in my mind to the day’s mistakes, the lack of judgment, the pointless anger, the tired impatience, the idiot lack of understanding, the bullying that size too often brings, the guilt at huge gaunt clumsiness, the sorrow at stupidity.
Just try to be better, let tomorrow start another attempt, be Groundhog Day again, get some exercise, eat well, drink plenty of water, work hard, strive to be happy, bring happiness to others, forgive yourself your imperfections, accept and understand…
Or do not do so and try to sort it out…

Snowman

I am just a snowman
Standing in the snow,
Reminding all the parents
Of the things they used to know.

I'm just an ugly little chap
'Cause it takes time to create
And everyone was hurrying
Because the day was getting late

I'm just a lonely snowman
And soon it will be night
I hope the weather's cold and that
The foxes they don't bite

I'm just a little snowman
And I'm glad you had some fun
Come and get your hat back
When I've melted in the sun

Friday, 18 January 2013

Primitive man.

Can we ever imagine now, what it was like to be closer to the start of this?
To wake up in the cold, on an English plain, walk to France over a year and then come back again? To wear the fur of an animal that you yourself killed? To know your first few children would probably not survive, or it would be a miracle if they did?
Primitive man is standing behind us, looking over our shoulders at our electronic keyboards, staring in wonder at our mobile phones, touching a radiator and getting burned.
Not even Primitive man though, even me from my childhood. A teenage Tony Peek sits in the chair beside me wondering what a DVD player is, or how Sky+ can go back in time, or where things go when I make the arrow on this screen move to the word "Publish" and click...

Where's the snow?


Where's the snow?
Well the teachers in my school they’ve all
Got restless itchy feet,
They’re staring out the window,
Hoping it don’t sleet.
Because snow is what we need you see
To fall like fluffy foam,
And an email from the Head to say
That we can all go home!

Thursday, 17 January 2013

Lions and Tigers and Tygones...

Lochie was at the day-carer's today. It was fine, he likes it there, he is usually happy and smiling, and happy to go in and happy when he comes home again.
We got a picture sent to us during the day, they'd been face painting and he'd been made up to look like a Lion.
That was the idea at least... he was meant to be a lion and the photograph that the day-carer sent to our phones looked pretty lion-like. I got the picture in the middle of an English lesson, and my wife got hers in the middle of a council meeting about expected redundancies during the next round of pay cuts.
The pictures were fine but neither my wife nor I realized what the face painted Lochie-Lion had turned into during the day. He'd wanted to be a tiger you see, but the other children, who'd been painted before him since they were younger, had all wanted to be tigers as well and the bright orange face paint had all been used up. The day-carer, clever in psycology as these ladies need to be, had painted him as a Lion but said that he was Lochie-Lion, King of the jungle.
But that wasn't enough, sadly, he wanted to be a tiger, you see, and tiger he would most definitely become. He had announced for the other four children that, actually, he wasn't just Lochie-Lion-King-of-the-Jungle but was in actual fact, actually, really, now to be known as, and called by forever, for all eternity and forever and ever: Lochie-the-Tygone-King-of-all-the-animals-everywhere-including-Tigers. The other children didn't argue, because he's the oldest, and the morning passed peacefully with Lochie-the-Tygone firmly in control of proceedings at the day carer's.
As I'm writing this, he is still Lochie-the-Tygone-King-of-all-the-animals-everywhere-including-Tigers, having refused to allow the face paint to be washed off and absolutely refused to let slip the new, tougher, and all powerful personality that he has become during the day.

Now my three-year-old son is asleep in bed as a half painted lion/tiger mix and only time will tell if the Lochie of old will be permitted to return to us in the morning when I try, once again to wash his face.
Wish me luck...




Wednesday, 16 January 2013

After creativity, what next?

The next new video is done and uploaded and parts of me are waiting for time to pass so that I can understand it: Was it worthwhile? Is it good? Was it a waste of time? Is it bad? Was it just practice...  just a lesson in editing? Only time will tell whether this newest and, for the moment, most important thing is good or bad.

If I'd been more professional I would probably have waited a month before uploading it but I was too excited last night and my trigger-happy-click-finger got the better of me.

Some things that I've done during my life I am still very pleased about. Some actions I've performed I'm still disturbed by.
And now it's true, I'm a bit nervous... I wonder how I'll feel in ten year's time about this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eqn2GTa7TaI



Monday, 14 January 2013

Guitar strings and nappies...(diapers)

Just in the middle of changing my guitar strings I was interrupted by my 20-month-old daughter. She came waddling through the door, looking up at me with innocent eyes and demanded a cuddle. I stopped what I was doing, of course, not wishing her to be blinded by the waving and flicking of my sharp, metal guitar strings.
I put my guitar down (or up as I should say to avoid the tramping feet of the other children) and reaching down lifted Isla up onto my knee.

I could smell it straight away of course but just to confirm my suspicions I asked her, "Have you had a poo?"
"Poo-bum, poo-bum," was her innocent enough reply so I put her down and, getting a nappy and wipes from the other room, came back to find her lying on the floor next to my old guitar strings waiting for me to change her.
I did it. I've had a few children and have changed a nappy or two so it wasn't difficult but, since I was distracted by her from my original task of changing my guitar strings I was a little thoughtless and un-noticing as I changed her. She was happy, but I was thinking about my strings and looking forward to playing my newly strung guitar and didn't notice as her happy young hands managed to get hold of one of the discarded strings that lay beside her.
She shook it.
Luckily I noticed in time, pulled my head up and the sharp end only cut my lip. Anger flashed through me for an instant. Anger at myself and my distracted and complacency.
The guitar string cut my lip, but it could have been my eye quite easily. And obviously, as everyone knows "...it's all fun and games until someone loses and eye..."



Saturday, 12 January 2013

Silent Witness and the DeLonghi Perfecta


They’ve got one now. When the camera takes us into Leo’s office. There it is in the far corner waiting to have its buttons pressed and to spout out its delicious loveliness.
However, there is the problem of noise. When I make a coffee early in the morning it’s hard not to wake the children, which sort of ruins the point of waking up early to attempt something creative. For example this is being written upstairs in bed, where I can turn on my computer and write in relative silence.
If I had ventured downstairs and turned on ‘the machine’,  first of all there’s the huge clacking and whirring of it starting up and then there’s the grinding howl of its actual coffee making.
It’s a lovely machine; we got it as a combined Christmas present from both of our families four years ago (and even then we had saved up half the money, so for us it was not inexpensive).
Yes, it’s a wonder of nature and thoughts of it even now fill me with joyous expectation. It’s really good, but it’s really, really noisy.
In Silent Witness, in Leo’s office, they’ve added a coffee jug, which they walk over and pour coffee from. There’s no heater to the side of ‘the machine’ so their all drinking cold coffee, but then again they’re actors so that’s what they do.
I guess they added the coffee jug due to the fact that if they actually pressed the buttons they’d have to stop filming for three minutes while everyone watched the coffee being made and listened to the cacophony of noise that this action entails.

PS: Maybe the newer one (which they have) is quieter?
PPS: Is their coffee drinking a homage to Scandinavian Crime TV and Books?
Bye for now.