Tag: poem
Four Letter Word – 4th April 1988
Down on your luck
Trying to make a buck
The dirt just turns to muck
So you walked in front of a truck
Shit….
Runt – 2nd April 1988
You were the runt of the litter
And that made you feel bitter
You hit your mum to upset her
And that made you feel better
Six Of One – 31st March 1988
If you’ve seen one
You’ve seen them all
I saw you high
Then I saw you fall
Eight and four is twelve
According to your mother
But you’re six of one
Half a dozen of the other
Hinge – 29th March 1988
I heard you whinge, whinge, whinge
You look like you’re on the fringe
You’re just about to unhinge
See you in the surfy water
Every day another daughter
Take them to a bloody slaughter
12th Dec 2021 – I’m sure I wasn’t the first but I’m happy to say I rhymed daughter and slaughter before Iron Maiden.
In 1995, after moving to the Central Coast, New South Wales, Australia I got involved with PCR-FM and did a radio show there which I called Unhinged and my name was The Hinge. Most times I played music I was into, other times I did noise sets (sometimes with collaborators), utilising the vacuum cleaner stored at the station.
It’s kinda odd to think about how quickly I made things happen in Australia. Australia was very lethargic in comparison with England so it was to my advantage in some ways. I took every opportunity to get on and do things and get involved. It took me many years to slow down a little.
Happy – 28th March 1988
You’ve got this happy feeling
You’re floating all over the ceiling
Everything just makes you smile
It’s nice to be happy once in a while
Flip – 27th March 1988
I fell over backwards for you
And that really made you smile
And I flipped my wig for you
And you flipped yours for a while
And then you went away
And just left me spinning
Now your hair grows long
While mine is grey and thinning
If I should ever flip my wig for you again….?
Cigars – 26th March 1988
You know there’s six cigars
In a pack of Panama
But a pack of J.P.S.
Has twenty cigarettes
Walk Away – 25th March 1988
You say just walk away from this dilemma
Just remind me again, I can’t remember
But if I walk away, I won’t forget
And I just don’t know what I’m feeling yet
18th Oct 2024 – Shared with Poets and Storytellers United – walking away
On Form – 24th March 1988
Like some old dog running down the track
Waiting for someone to pat you on the back
Your fits ain’t laughter, you just want to die
Your form book says twenty to one but no one asks why
24th Mar 2023 – I’m trying to reimagine and identify the protagonist here. Probably not a person in particular but a stereotype. Someone doing what is expected of them, playing the game, running the race but secretly hating themselves. That was something I didn’t aspire to.
I could hate myself as much as anyone but I would hate to have been seen as boring. Perhaps it was also my own way to boost my ego, to feel superior, misguidedly or not.
1994ever 