Posts filed under 'God damn poetry'
Those have heard, down our way
Of a certain story that does tell
Of a certain character, small and thin
That reeks of compost, farts and gin
Eyes of wonder, teeth that grin
That be him, that Fumblegin
For a long time animals went missing
After dark, when the owls did hoot
At first it was believed to be fancy cats (oooo!)
Or hustling mice or chunky rats
Except that none of these exist
So to avoid humiliation, they took a risk
Set a trap and what did they catch?
Not a cat or a rat or a Bandersnatch
But a wee small man with a tache so trim
That was him, that Fumblegin
Despite trying for at least a day
He managed to escape just after lunch
Not that he really did much to disguise
Where he lived, you just followed the pies
Down the street and around the bend
Right to the very end
There he sits, belly on top
Stinking like a rancid mop
It’d take three lifetimes to recount his sin
You know him, that’s Fumblegin
May 26th, 2010
Here be a rough draft of a song that is speechmarks in the mix close speechmarks. It’s based on a well-loved character from my past whose very name can make your heart sing.
He stood three storeys high
With a wizened look in his eye
All the while that cheeky smile
At everyone passing by
He’s one for every occasion
Morning, noon and night
Have you heard his name?
Of course I think you might.
Chorus
Colossal and robust, a character of trust
Jimmy Titan, Jimmy Titan
No-one heartier than Jimmy Titan
Be wary of his powers deceptive as they are
They pack the molten punch of a massive exploding star
His hairs not near but he still looks a treat
And you’ll find him in the bar
He’s one for every occasion
Birthdays, weddings, weekends
Have you heard his name?
Of course you have dear friends
Chorus x 2
If you need manly chats, he’s for a spin
If you need a manly hug he’ll squeeze you thin
If you need entertainment for your sister’s new boyfriend’s best friend’s pool party because the party CD got scratched and your I-pod is on the blink and someone is desperately searching for their Simply Red LPs… why not?
Chorus x 2
(I. McIver / Papples Music Empire)
April 15th, 2010
The onslaught from the severe weather that has hit the country within the last 28 days has been immense. There have been schools closed, roads paved with ice, power shortages, electrical problems, endless panic buying, people pushed to their limits. It has been the the freeziest and worst December / January for a long time.
Luckily London has not been affected by any of this. We spoke to fashion guru and local MP Quaff for the reasons behind this.
“London is the centre of everything. Everything revolves around London. I have always lived in London because London has always been here, for me and for many others. If I were to leave London it would only be to travel around the world and return to London, on the same flight, possibly the same plane, so London would have a fresher taste when I gazed upon her sweet, sweet enclosures.”
5 minutes later.
“London is as London does. You think you’ve done something new? You think you’ve found something undiscovered? No. No you haven’t. London has discovered it first. That’s what it’s called Lon-done. It’s done, all done. London did it before you. Don’t try to steal it from London!”
Another 5 minutes later.
“So you see, it comes back to London. Everyone comes back to London. She is the sweetest flower in the pack, the tastiest bone in the kennel, the juciest plumbs in the meadow. Nobody owns London, London owns you. But she doesn’t own Quaff though, at least I don’t think so. Perhaps she does. There is a part of me in London that will never leave…”
(For the full 87 hour interview please contact Mack Mackford at Mackmackford@mackfordtowers.co.uk)
January 14th, 2010
Having been given a harmonica for Christmas by one A Jermyn (but for this post I shall merely refer to her as Audrey J) I have quickly surfaced with a slightly sad tune for those late nights and early morning when the sun can’t rise swiftly enough. It has poetic meaning that stretches further than any mere pop song can. In all honesty it’s the best thing to every emerge. Ever. Let’s see how the world takes to the verbosity:
Squishy Milk
Squishy milk, squishy milk
1 1 -1 1 1 -1
Meant to last, squished by fate
2 2 -2 2 2 -2
Nothing left, nothing left
1 1 -2 1 1 -2
But squishy milk, squishy milk
2 2 -2 1 1 1 1
I feel as though by adding further words it would destroy the essence of what is there. It is as Quaff would say, “intrinsically bereft of any doubt or shame.” How that man can be so succint is beyond me.
December 28th, 2009
So we’ve now managed a full twenty-four days and with only seven still to go I believe that we can finish this year well. When I say well though I do mean with a post for every day. ‘Well’ has so many… no actually it doesn’t, it’s pretty straightforward. So for all you lovers out there here is a song to warm your cockles and melt your heart:
Love My Face
Lady
Do you like my face?
Could you love my face with all your eyes?
If you loved my face would it taste
The sweetest you’ve ever spied?
‘Cos one thing I wouldn’t want
Would be to hear the lies
The ones that taint the taste
Taint the looks of your eyes
If you can’t look
At my wonderful face
And feel the thrills we once cried
Then you should walk away now, tootpaste
The well trodden path I despise
I might still call you
On the odd occasion, with no ties
To hear the words from your face
Let them drift into my eyes
There’s no rushing, no time to waste
I hope you know Ted Hughes is a spy
Once you lay waste to my face
Then my face will be disgraced
It will taste like mace
Do you want me to taste like mace?
I’m a waste of space without my face
But like space I will chase
Chase you and your face
Your face, full of grace… and raspberries
Actually that wasn’t very romantic and I think the last verse was supposed to be rapped. Erm… MERRY CHRISTMAS!
December 24th, 2009
PUMP!
December 19th, 2009
Raspberries
Raspberries.
When you draw them they look like grapes, grapes
I don’t draw them anymore
I can’t draw them anymore
I can’t stand them anymore
They ruined my life
Those damn raspberries.
Arthur “Lemon” Lemonson
December 13th, 2009
Sometimes I feel like covering other people’s songs.
Sometimes I feel like the hype just isn’t justified.
Sometimes I feel like selling out.
Sometimes I feel like releasing a deluxe four disc edition of my debut album which is entirely unnecessary as it features the same ten songs over and over again.
Sometimes I should just stop.
(Musical parody and rant done with. To continue and resume again shortly.
Plus, have you seen her face? I wish I hadn’t. FACT)
December 5th, 2009
Bought me a cat and the cat pleased me,
I fed my cat under yonder tree.
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a hen and the hen pleased me,
I fed my hen under yonder tree.
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a duck and the duck pleased me,
I fed my duck under yonder tree.
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a goose and the goose pleased me
I fed my goose under yonder tree.
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a sheep and the sheep pleased me,
I fed my sheep under yonder tree.
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a pig and the pig pleased me,
I fed my pig under yonder tree.
Pig goes oink, oink,
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a cow and the cow pleased me,
I fed my cow under yonder tree.
Cow goes moo, moo,
Pig goes oink, oink,
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a horse and the horse pleased me,
I fed my horse under yonder tree.
Horse goes neigh, neigh,
Cow goes moo, moo,
Pig goes oink, oink,
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
Bought me a dog and the dog pleased me,
I fed my dog under yonder tree.
Dog goes bow-wow, bow-wow,
Horse goes neigh, neigh,
Cow goes moo, moo,
Pig goes oink, oink,
Sheep goes baa, baa,
Goose goes hissy, hissy,
Duck goes quack, quack,
Hen goes chimmy-chuck, chimmy-chuck,
Cat goes fiddle-i-fee.
September 8th, 2009
Whilst having my shoes buffed at the local buffery yesterday I noticed a rucus occuring across the street. I paid Gepetto, the friendly Northerner, his usual fee of two carneys and went over to investigate. Before I got the chance to lodge an interest I was attacked by three chagrins. They were bad, Gabby Hayes bad. The leader had two eyepatches and a mohawk which he used to tickle underneath my chin. The other two danced a disturbing dance of pain before nutting me in the Welcomes.
Thankfully a rival gang of Chagrins, the Chirpies, were teaching some limpets how to draw circles nearby and came to my rescue. Sometimes I wonder if they are both a curse and a gift, then I remember how much the Chagrin has given to the modern world and I immediately weep openly like a bitch.
May 18th, 2009
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