Outcast Poems

The way we were

It was the days of hope
Hope and glory
Life-boy soap
And a never ending story
Of long summer nights
Talking about the weather
And more soap;
For the ladies
It was Imperial Leather

The milkman still used horse and cart
To do his morning run
Only full cream top bottles in his crates
And on the aging victory garden
We’d spread the dung

No tumble dryers and new fandangle
Just outside loos
And a worn out mangle
Wash boards just like Lonnie used to play
And green carbolic soap to scrub collar stains away

Football boots had leather studs
We’d play for hours in the mud
Cricket stumps were chalked on the wall
Crushed tin can’s used as a balls
The kerb a crease ‘till our mums did call

Then down the alleys we all ran
Home for tea time
Mash potatoes and spam
Listening to the valve radio
When children’s hour began

Thick bread and homemade jam
No fridges
Food all kept in the larder
The days were long
And the nights were harder

Night time fell
And to bed we’d go
Under the sheets
When street lights were glowing
Reading Enid Blyton
Without mum knowing

No duvets only blankets
Eider downs, quilts and bed spreads
And lumpy pillows to rest our sleepy heads
It was the way we were
And at least for me
In my head
It was the way I’d always be.

The Day My House Got Overrun by an Assortment of Youth Subcultures

There were Gothics in my attic
Painting each other’s nails
Washing their hands in the water tank
Getting make-up all over my towels

A crowd of Casuals were on the landing
All wearing Martinique suits
While Skinheads skanked around the garden
Pulling my plants up by their roots

Out front a line of Boy Racers
Revved up their “all show no go” cars
As a bunch of Hippies sat on the lawn
Dropping acid and playing guitars

Just inside the front doorway
An Essex Girl was getting shagged
By an Essex Man who was a Thatcher fan
And thought the Essex Girl a slag

In the basement danced aesthetic Mods
Fuelled high on amphetamine
Slim cut Italian suits and modern jazz
The perfect 60’s scene

Teddy Boys and Rockers were drinking
Beer inside my kitchen
As some Satanists and Jesus Freaks
Started up a little witching

Skaters screamed up the hallway
Power grinding down my stairs
As some Druggies peddled smack
To some Scottish Neds (who cares?)

The ASBO generation were sitting in the lounge
All Burberry, track suits and baseball caps
With young Chavettes
On each of their laps

Drums and bass boomed out the bedroom
Where the Jungle Soldiers were getting mashed
Whilst the Rude Boys in the bathroom
Danced to “When the two seven’s clash”

The conservatory was crammed full
With a mob of pogoing Punks
New Romantics chatted to Anorak Nerds
While the Suedeheads listened to funk

All of them seemed to be getting on well
There seemed no social bars
Until some Scallies nicked a radio
And keyed the Boy Racers Cars

The Mods all ran out to their scooters
As did the Rockers to their bikes
Soon it was like Brighton back in ‘67
With fighting, and alike

A Teddy Boy chinned a Casual
A Chav scared him with some bling
The Essex Girl did one as well
The Hippies stopped playing

The Gothics all went white
Actually, they looked like that before
And soon, with a crash and a bang
The Lumpenproletariat were kicking down my door

The Mods they all went mental!
The Chavs already were
Two aging Yuppies were having puppies
Then everything became a blur

I grabbed my hoody from the hanger
And made it to the streets
It was time to get out of there
I knew that I was beat

Dreads on my path were having a laugh
It was all getting proper vexing
They were banging away at mobile phones
Who the fuck were they texting?

Mike Skinner ran out after me
Wearing a crombie, red socks and brogues
Followed by two Hippies, the Essex Girl
And a few assorted rogues

It was one hell of a party
It lived up to all the hype
Every room full of youth subcultures
Representatives from every type

The day my house got overrun
By an assortment of youth subculture
I didn’t complain, I just danced through the night
Me? I’m just a subculture vulture!

I WAS ON THE T SHIRT

I was on the T shirt
and on the flyer
Top of the bill
Couldn't get higher

But I let them down
I didn't show
All dressed up
but I didn't go

I spent time with my lover
who's heart was needing
Somethings are more important
Than poetry reading!

DARKNESS DARKNESS

Darkness rose upon me
I looked back towards the place
Where the line I had long since crossed
Was no longer visible
Returning was not an option
I was doomed to roam the darkside
Until the end of my days

SPARKY THE MIGHTY POET

He does exactly what it says on the tin
Like epoxy resin and hardener
He is Sparky the mighty poet
And England’s greatest gardener

No job too small
No tree too tall
No middle-class poetry malarkey
Just real poems
For real people
From the one and only Sparky

He's shaping the landscape with Excalibur
Drinking last orders at the bar
And when you slip through his rip
in the fabric of time
Sparky will be there with his vodka-lime

Spoken acrobatics and high wire tricks
Under the Half Moon's giant marquee
He's the ring master of the Flying Circus
The gifted visionary Sparky

He's an historian plotting the life
of the now extinct tyrannosaurus
He's the world’s hardest working poet
He is another word for thesaurus

Not a mediocre man
Nor a shandy-sipping academic
He's a forward thinking protagonist
The poetical polemic

Skilful with weeds as he is with words
The horticulturalist that could have been a parky
But lucky for us and the spoken word
A poetic career chose Sparky

Be you rich or poor
Be you Whitey or be you darky
He's the egalitarian poet
(Maybe not always politically correct)
The mighty performer Sparky

POETRY IS ON THE EDGE

Poetry is on the edge
Life and death
Hate and war
Finding out your mother's a whore

The new alphabets
and the new poets
The cerebralists and fabulist
Don’t go and blow it!

New modernity hear the wake up call
May the scream inspire
Reason and rhyme
Let's enjoy and have a ball

Cross the line
Stand up and be counted
Problems behind, all are surmounted
Let hearts beat
true to your schools
Aim high, shoot low
Be nobody's fools

Immortalists
Unplugged and un-decreed
Lend me your ear
The egalitarian way
The direction is clear
Follow me
and have no fear

Poetry is on the edge
Too late to shed those tears
Hold your head up
Follow no-one
And deal with all the fears

Poetry is on the edge
Or so this poem goes
And remember what Bobby said
“You don’t need a weather man
to know which way the wind blows”

CERTIFIED NOT INSANE

The fundamentalist
Are all fundamentally fucking mental
They killed those people on that train
Me, I can't buy into that
I am fundamentally a poet
Certified, not insane

The government
Lies and more people die
They blindly take us into madness
Lies, lies and lies
Not even a feint trace of sadness
Only, passing on the blame
But not me, I am a poet
Certifiably, not insane

Tin pot managers
Making all the rules
Misguided workers
Laying down tools
And who is the captain
On this new ship of fools?
Not me, I'm the poet
Certified, not insane

The war-mongers
Go fighting on foreign soil
In far off lands they fight for oil
To supply us with 5 star
Unleaded and high octane
While the low-life pack guns
and deal in cocaine
And everyone gets mindlessly
out of their brain
Not me, I am a poet
Certified, not insane

My girlfriend likes soul music
but has no soul in her vein
She hangs out with her friends
All very urbane
But life is to short
for cheap champagne
So raise a beer to the poetsAll certified, not insane

I LOST MY VIRGINITY

I lost my virginity in an air-raid shelter
It was 1967
I didn't really know what to do
But I suspected it would be like heaven

I lost my virginity in an air-raid shelter
To a girl called Josephine Strong
The room was damp and smelt of piss
It didn't take very long

DOWNWARDLY MOBILE

You texted me
And I texted you
Then I texted you again
You sent me back two
And I did you
But in spite of your claim:

“But that’s not what I meant!”
Your last text said
‘Then why did you say it?’
Went through my head

I didn’t reply
She shouldn’t have said it
I didn’t reply
I’d run out of credit

LAST SEEN ON EBAY

It was Valentine’s night
when you dumped me
Over a speckled hen
You did it in style
In a pub near St Giles
I go back there now and again

It was Valentine’s night
when you dumped me
It was you that bought
The last round
You said you felt “suffocated” by me
You no longer wanted me around

I stared at the wet ring
My glass made
I held back the tears in my eyes
The Doors were playing in the background
“Our love became a funeral pyre”

It was Valentines night
when you dumped me
We silently walked back to our cars
I haven’t seen you since then
I still have one of your brother’s guitars
LAST SEEN ON EBAY !!!

TEXAS LONE STAR

He took her out for a meal
Refried beans, tacos, San Miguel
Jose Quervos straight
He wanted anal sex
All he got was Tex Mex
It’s like that on the first date

DICK STALKER

Dick was an educated man
By day he translated
Verses by Federico García Lorca
He was a very diverse man
By night he transformed into Dick Stalker

He’d seen her once
Whilst having his lunch
In a café opposite Blackwells
He’d followed her alone
To her street, to her home
Under the sound of Old Toms bells

In her street after dark in the shadows he’d park
And gaze up at here silhouette
Less than half an hour
She was out of the shower
Her body still glistening wet

Dick’s damp hand clutched his crutch
She would leave the house soon
He had learnt that much
And he knew
It was Tuesday eve
And would you believe
She was studying Spanish, level 2

In his silent cross trainers
He would follow her to the school
And wait out side in the park
Alone in the dark
She was an educated woman, no fool

Dick was an educated man
Who had never had a tan
Never been much of a talker
“green how I love you green”
The words of Lorca
Translated by Dick Stalker

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

Standing in a queue at the supermarket
With my basket filled for one
Tin of beans, potatoes and eggs,
And a small steak I’d cook, well done

I saw her there with her long red hair
Her basket filled for one
A bag of loose fruit, plain yoghurts,
Tomatoes that had dried in the sun

Declining the offer for help packing
My shopping was scanned
and bagged out of sight
The red head slip-streamed me
with her healthy options
Then disappeared into the suburban night

A TO Z

In a dictionary
Somewhere between
Shit and Syphilis
I found Sympathy
The self-wallowing kind
That only you yourself
Can understand

Somewhere between
Loss and lucidity
I found love
But it was only a word
That could never describe
How I felt

Somewhere between
Pathos and perfunctory
I found peace
But only in a
Perfunctory manor

Somewhere between
Life and Death
I tried to find happiness
But it was not there
Perhaps it would come later

THE SWEETEST CORN

The barn owl hunts
In harmony
With the canal
Under a rising moon
The field mouse
Eats its last meal

The sweetest corn

LADBROKES

I stood in Ladbrokes
And watched my money
Turn from purple to brown
To blue to green
To silver to copper
To nothing

A HEAD FULL OF STARLINGS

Waking up with a garden
full of starlings and a head full
of everything and nothing.
A tear of condensation runs
down the window and disappears
like the ones on our faces.
You are sleeping peacefully
but soon you will be waking up
with a head full of starlings
and a room fullof everything and nothing.

"FUCK OFF" SHE SAID

“FUCK OFF” she said
It was her way of saying that
the relationship was over
“FUCK OFF” she said
It was her way of saying that
her feelings towards me had changed
“FUCK OFF” she said
It was her way of expressing
her inner emotions
“FUCK OFF” she said
It was her way of saying
“FUCK OFF”.

THIS LIFE

when this life
is spitting in your face
all your friends have gone
You know that you’re
a waste of space
ding bloody dong

a wake up call
assails your ears
time to change your ways
regroup, take stock
confront your fears
look through the purple haze

its not just you
that finds themselves
alone against the world
there are others the same
on those dusty shelves
where you have all been hurled

it takes all sorts
to make this life
you are never on your own
it just feels at times
its full of strife
a solitary zone

I wish there were
some hope to give
to guide you through the mire
but alas it is
the one life you livebefore the funeral pyre

THE MISSING

I am older
I am much colder
All my love has been spent
Memories of you
I have quite a few
But I wonder where
All those years went

TRACES

Your hair on my pillow
Your smell on my sheets
Are all I have left in my home
No toothbrush
No clothes
There are none of those
It’s strange that you left not a trace
Just your smell on my sheets
And a hair on my pillow
That once restedOn the cheek of your face

A YEAR IN THE LIFE

One year of living
One year of giving
All I had in my heart
I knew all along
Something was wrong
I think I knew it
Right from the start

One year of taking
One year of faking
Knowing that something was wrong
And now she has gone
To sing another song
I wish her luck With her life in the making

I POET

I poet
Hereby state
There is not a soul
In the world
I can call my mate

They have all
Let me down
Now no one is around
But when I blow itI try not to show i

ON BREAKING UP WITH MY GIRLFRIEND

A friend at work said
“I’ll have to get you laid”
To her it seemed the best
That she could do
She said she’d sort me out
With a WPC, over at Police HQ

A WPC to just for me
To shake away my blues
A WPC to just for me
Complete with black stocking
and sensible shoes

Fantasies soon filled my mind
A WPC just for me
I wondered what I would find
I’d be squeezing her breast
Through a bullet proof vest
In the name of the law
I’d paw in the name of the law

A WPC to just for me
To beat away my blues
A WPC to just for me
Complete with black stocking
and sensible shoes
The handcuffs
I won’t even go there
Nor the mace in my face
But love we would make with abandonment
Without care, till our fun was done
Then she’d lay on my bed
Resting her head
And would fall into a delicate slumber
I stare at her jacket
On the back of my chair
And memorise her shoulder number

A WPC to just for me
To frisk away my blues
A WPC to just for me
Complete with black stocking
and sensible shoes

It would all be arresting
It would be very testing
But I’d try not to do anything rash
What else could I do
With PC1422
‘cept hoped she didn’t find my stash

She’d be back on her beat
Her life now complete
Remembering our moments pleasure
She would drive like a star
In her little blue car
Knowing she had buried me
Like a piece of old treasure

A WPC to just for me
To charge away my blues
A WPC to just for me
Complete with black stocking
and sensible shoes

But is wasn’t wedding bells
That I heard in the cells
Hosed down in my prime
And my glory
I was sitting behind bars
Instead of under the stars
The last sentence in this little story

A WPC to just for me
To lock away my blues
A WPC to just for me
Complete with black stocking up to her bum
and shiny black sensible shoes

THE ELECTRICITY THIEF

He always turns up late at night
His visits often brief
With a bag of leads
To serve his needs
He’s the electricity thief

He plugs in a gadget
Once inside the door
He’s only after 12 volt
Or sometimes 24

He boots up his laptop
You stare in disbelief
His transformer
Getting warmer
He’s the electricity thief

He takes it from the rich
And takes it from the poor
He’s only after 12 volt
Or sometimes 24

He’ll plug in a mobile
He doesn’t mind which socket
When it’s full
He’ll say “That’s cool”
And leave there like a rocket

At times he takes a little
On others he takes more
He’s only after 12 volt
Or sometimes 24

Watch your meter spin away
And your bills spiral high
Without even a head-nod
He’ll fill up his Ipod
Electricity thieves don’t buy

He’s heartless and thoughtless
He is rotten to the core
He only wants your 12 volt
Or maybe 24

With a Walkman he’ll ignore you
And listen to the Keiser Chiefs
He doesn’t want your flattery
Just a full charge on his battery
Like all electricity thieves

Don’t show him to a power point
Just show him to the door
He’s only after 12 volts
Or a trickle of 24

His behaviour is shocking
He has many tricks up his sleeves
His latest charger's
Larger
Check it before he leaves

Never trust the bright spark
Watch your sockets near the floor
He'll rob you blind of 12 volt
And maybe some 24

If you see him outside your house
He's probably doing a recky
Don't let him in
To steal and grin
He's only after your 'lecky

He'll rob you if you're rich
And rob you if you're poor
He'll steal it as 12 volt
And even 24

In all his transformer glory
He is guilty and fully charged
But be careful everybody
He’s still out there
The electricity thief’s still at large

BOATER'S LAMENT

The cool nights
Made him shiver
Or was that cirrhosis
Of the liver

A winter wind blows
And freezes up the cut
He sits and stokes
The burner up

The radio is playing
At the end of the boat
Wet boots sit
Under a sodden coat

All those things
The day has sent
And left him alone
With the boater’s lament

SUMMER

It’s raining now
The sun has gone
A southerly breeze
Blows the leaves along

This is it
This is summer
The end of the day
What a bummer

THE INTERVIEW SHOW

Suited and booted
Ready to go
Off-peak return
To the interview show

Ask me no questions
And I’ll tell you no lies
Dark blue suit
In a room full of ties

Tell them a little about your self
Show them enthusiasm
Not lack of wealth

Hear yourself talk
Much too freely
Hear them say
“You did that, really?”

Should I have said this?
Should I have said that?
Should I have even mentioned?
Susan’s Cat

Interview over
You shake goodbye
Head full of doubt
Time to get out

Light up a cigarette
When you hit the street
Back at the station
The sun shines on the nation

On the train
You start to relax
Try not to think about
The un-paid tax

Back at home
All alone
A bottle of red
Then off to bed

EVERYTHING IS OVERRATED

School for 20 years
Blood, sweat, and tears
Get a degree
All signed and dated
Sign on the dole
Like another lost soul
That’s why education is really overrated

Fall deeply in love
All turtle dove
Get married
To the one that you dated
Divorce rears it’s head
Cost you an arm and a leg
That’s why love is really overrated

Invests cash in stocks
Told “they’re solid as rocks”
Till the markets crash
Economy completely inflated
Share value gone
Just paper printed on
That’s why money is really overrated

Broaden the mind
See what you can find
Get herpes
From a stranger you mated
Catch a flight home
Once again you’re alone
That’s why travel is really overrated

Hit the booze
Nothing to loose
Mouth off
About everything you hated
Cold sweat and shiver
Cirrhosis of the liver
That’s why drinking is really overrated

Put all into working
No time for shirking
Get fired
Your debts all get backdated
You are all null and void
Like Pretty Boy Floyd
That’s why careers are really overrated

Turn to the smack
Supplement it with crack
Go mad
Then they keep you sedated
The warnings you didn’t heed
Eventually you OD’d
That’s why drugs are really overrated

Turn inwards, don’t blow it
Become a street poet
Churn it out
Get your verses collated
Along comes writes block
You are soon back in the dock
That’s why poetry is really overrated

And then you die
No word of a lie
Buried
When you wanted to be cremated
Amongst all the crazies
Pushing up daisies
That’s why death is really overrated

But don’t despair
Hope is still there
Dream large
The rest is all fated
Remember your dreams
They are your only schemes
That’s why dreams are really underrated

BACK IN THE EAST END AGAIN

I felt like Cain in Get Carter
When I asked for a thin glass
And that was just for a starter
I was revisiting my past
The entire cast
Back in the East End again

VIVA ESPANIA

Holidaying in Spain
Again and again
Walking on the playa
With eyes like Russ Meyer (RIP)

Fueled with cerveza
And carne a la braza
Withy a torso burning slowly
Next to Catholics feeling holy

Up all night
With a senorita in my sight
Trying not to be too strange
With my cultural interchange

Facing up to my torro
Like a middle England Zorro
Drinking bottles of vino
Like an alcoholic latino

Eating flamencine
With a nubile Spanish teen
It’s the bars where I’ll be lurking
This certainly beats working

ST IVES FOREVER

Hand in hand
Walking on sand
Through streetwise seagulls
Under the stars
Laughing tears
All for love, no fears
Nighttime, spring weather
It really could have been
St Ives forever

NICK THE MAN

When Nick The Man
came to stay
he filled a bag
with Craven A

His voice was tinged
with maple leaf
a twinkle in his eye
and a flash of teeth

Nick was cool,
giving girls the chat
in his crocodile boots
but no gaitor hat

When his mouth got dry
he’d give it a lick
time for another label
on his walking stick

And now he’s going
up into the sky
he’s going back
to drink Canada dry!

SID AND NANCY WERE OVER

Sid stared at Nancy's very brief text
Nancy just said "NO !", let Sid work out the rest
Sid's eyes watered
He thought of psychedelic sex
When Sid and Nancy were over

Nancy liked to drink too much
And Sid popped pills as his crutch
If it wasn't for all for love
It may not have mattered much
When Sid and Nancy were over

Sid woke up, dropped a Cipromil
Nancy's silence was enough to kill
Sid tried to face another day
But he didn't really have the will
When Sid and Nancy were over

From Botley to Eynsham Sids memories lay
In his heart Nancy never went away
If he was in the slightest religious
He would have started to pray
When Sid and Nancy were over

Nancy had dug her heels in when she said "NO !"
Sid had packed his bags, it was time to go
Sid really should have
Gone with the flow
But now Sid and Nancy are over.

TIME DRAGS

Laying here
Surrounded by bags
Full of nothing
Full of rags
Time drags

Drifting off
In a Diazepam dream
I reach out to
See if I can feel
My strip of Cipramil

FUCK YOU

Fuck you
For your inconsideration
Fuck you
For fucking up my head
Fuck you
For your selfish games
Fuck you
For your drunken onslaughts
Fuck you
For the lonely nights
Fuck you
For the empty bed
Fuck you
Fuck you
Fuck you
Very much

CITY HEART

Last night I loved
A dream
In the darkness
Of your body
You made my
City heart beat

I HAVE LOST

I have lost at love
Dreams are all I have left
And the sky up above
Now out of reach
Lots to learn
But nothing to teach

PAC-A-MAC MORNING

It's a pac a mac morning
Rain on my head
Non long since I left
My unmade bed

This may be how
All mornings start
With rain seeping through
To a broken heart

I AM ALONE

I am alone
No home
No friend
No one
Just me
Can't see
Only double
Trouble
No heart
No love
No loyalty
No truth
No understanding
No peace
No place
No face
Nowhere
No care
No fucking idea

TEARS COME

Tears come to my eyes
You will never know why
Didn't even try
It's easier that way
We will never be
You and me
You choose the high road
And I'll take the low road
Never we'll meet
Like the rain in the street
The stain on the sheet
I'm done
I'm beat.

I HAVE KNOWN

I have known sadness
I have known love
I have grown lifeless
With too much blood

Behind the back
The drug dagger stabs
Pharmaceutical pills
From a back-street lab

Another tab down
Another man in the past
It should have been clear
It would never last

HOW I FEEL NOW

I feel betrayed
By a secret drop
By a pill you choose
Over love supreme
Minds apart
Distances the heart
You'll never know
Why the bad start
Love is not enough
Take the rough
With the rough

So lonely tonight
When you are "out of sight!"
It's all trite
It was never love
At first sight
You never knew
What I meant to you
Cheap thrills
Pay the bills
Leave me behind
Out of your mind
See what you find
You will never see
What you mean to me
Escapist to the end
Not my friend
Don't want that now
Can't understand how
I feel how I reel
Mental disturbance
Like a trance
But I'm not in a dream
Just feel betrayed
Fuck you all
Fuck you all
Fuck you all

WORLDS APART

Worlds apart
Not together
It rains outside
That's just the weather
Leave me behind
See what you find
Worlds apart
Maybe forever

DEAD SEA MAGIC

It's thick and it's creamy
It's slippery and it's dreamy
It makes your entry smooth as silk
Dead Sea Magic, lover’s milk

It doesn't matter which way you go
Back or front, fast or slow
Dead Sea Magic makes it right
Keeps it lubricated throughout the night

Its good for fingers, good for fists
Night time fun, like gorillas in the mist
Life without it would be tragic,
Once you've discovered Dead Sea Magic

It's not so greasy as Baby Oil
Or even Vaseline on your foil
DSM just can't be beat,
And it will wash right out of your sheet

If ever a product was made for love
Dead Sea Magic is from heaven above
Spread it thinly, spread it thick
DSM will do the trick

Squeeze DSM in the palm of your hands
Spread that love cream over those glands
Dead Sea Magic has no smell
Dead Sea Magic will serve you well

TOO MUCH BLOOD

Too much blood
when you ripped out my heart
Too much pain
right from the start
Too much gloom
now we're apart
Fresh tracks in the mud
is all that's left
Fresh tracks in the mud
and too much blood

SORROWFUL TIMES

In sorrowful times
I write these lines
Not so inclined
to feeling fine
Life is no longer a dream
Of beaches and peaches and ice cream

THE HOUSE OF LOVE

Cooked food smells and music
Floats through the rooms above
As I walk from bookshelf to bookshelf
That line the house of love

I found my peace of mind there
Stroking Jeeps the cat
The House of Love laid me down
It is where I laid my hat

MICHAEL MOORCOCK'S BED

In the middle of the night
Waking up out of head
Getting inspiration from
Michael Moorcock's bed

Don't know if I dream in Sci Fi
Or of aliens and planets red
But one thing I know for sure
It's Michael Moorcock's bed

Words pen through my dreams
From every book I've read
Seems to happen every time
I sleep in Michael Moorcock's bed

All things around me have changed
Life is different to the one I led
Ever since that first night
I slept in Michael Moorcock's bed

THE OLD LADY AND THE JOINT

There was an old lady who smoked a joint
I can't see the point in smoking a joint
Perhaps she’s high

There was an old lady who drank some dizzy
That made her head feel whizzy and fizzy
She drank the dizzy to chase the joint
I can't see the point in smoking a joint
Perhaps she’s high

There was an old lady who snorted some speed
She didn't need to snort that speed
She snorted the speed to chase the dizzy
That made her head feel whizzy and fizzy
She drank the dizzy to chase the joint
I can't see the point in smoking a joint
Perhaps she’s high

There was an old lady who free-based some coke
She was completely broke after free-basing coke
She free-based the coke to cut the speed
She snorted the speed to chase the dizzy
That made her head feel whizzy and fizzy
She drank the dizzy to chase the joint
I can't see the point in smoking a joint
Perhaps she’s high

There was an old lady who dropped a trip
Oh how un-hip, dropping a trip
She dropped the trip to chase the coke
She free-based the coke to cut the speed
She snorted the speed to chase the dizzy
That made her head feel whizzy and fizzy
She drank the dizzy to chase the joint
I can't see the point in smoking a joint
Perhaps she’s high

There was an old lady who swallowed an E
Oh deary me, she swallowed an E
She swallowed the E to cut the trip
She dropped trip to chase the coke
She free-based the coke to cut the speed
She swallowed the speed to chase the dizzy
That made her head feel whizzy and fizzy
She drank the dizzy to chase the joint
I can't see the point in smoking a joint
Perhaps she’s high

There was an old lady who smoked some crack
She nearly lost track after smoking that crack
She smoked the crack to chase the E
She swallowed the E to cut the trip
She dropped trip to chase the coke
She free-based the coke to cut the speed
She snorted the speed to chase the dizzy
That made her head feel whizzy and fizzy
She drank the dizzy to chase the joint
I can't see the point in smoking a joint
Perhaps she’s high

There was an old lady who skin-popped some morphine
She went into a dream after skin-popping morphine
She skin-popped the morphine to chase the crack
She smoked the crack to chase the E
She swallowed the E to cut the trip
She dropped the trip to chase the coke
She free-based the coke to cut the speed
She snorted the speed to chase the dizzy
That made her head feel whizzy and fizzy
She drank the dizzy to chase the joint
I can't see the point in smoking a joint
Perhaps she’s high

There was an old lady who shot some methodone
You should have heard her moan after shooting methadone
She shot the methadone to chase the morphine
She skin-popped the morphine to chase the crack
She smoked the crack to chase the E
She swallowed the E to cut the trip
She dropped the trip to chase the coke
She free-based the coke to cut the speed
She snorted the speed to chase the dizzy
That made her head feel whizzy and fizzy
She drank the dizzy to chase the joint
I can't see the point in smoking a joint
Perhaps get high

There was an old lady who main lined some horse
She's high of course!

FAT FACE

It was the morning of the party
Decorations filled the place
I woke up feeling happy
Until I saw my fat face

Terry drove me to A & E
He drove at quiet a pace
We have an emergency here he said
This man has a big fat face

A young Australian medic
Was shortly on my case
He laughed beneath his Aussie breath
When he confronted my fat face

We were told to sit, told to wait
Until they had room, until they had space
For an extremely upset man
With a big fat fucking face

Others were seen straight away
Of injury there was no trace
I sat there getting agitated
Oi! Look at me, I've got a fat face!

I'm not just a number I shouted
I'm still part of the human race
You're treating everyone before me
Can't you see I've got a fat face

Eventually a doctor called me
Her good looks were her saving grace
As she did nothing at all to help me
She just prodded at my fat face

What are you doing tonight, I asked
Thinking I was playing my ace
I'll be studying advances in medicine
Not out with you and your fat face

I upped and went, got out of there
Left her without a trace
She won't remember my name again
But she'll never forget my fat face

WHEN POETS BLOW IT

"I will love you till the stars stop shining
and the morning dawn breaks,
o'er fields and trees and bowers"

She looked annoyed,
and turned her face and said to him:
"But that is only a couple of hours!"

He felt awkward in that moment
His words echoed 'round in his head
He took hold of himself and didn't show it

Could he recover his glory
When deep down inside he knew
That’s what happens when poets blow it

I love you more than my car
More than my leather interior
More than my racing steering wheel

Her face looked sad
He'd said something bad
He was beginning to feel quite ill

She looked distressed
He'd said something wrong
But he didn't quite seem to know it

But somewhere inside
Beneath his pride beneath, he knew
That's what happens when poets blow it

I love you with my poets heart
Feel it beating beneath my chest
Like a drum, like a drum, like a drum

Your heart beats hard
Because you’re unfit
And the drum, its your tum, its your tum

He'd said something wrong
He'd put his foot in his mouth
An was getting ready to toe it

When she smiled at him
And kissed his chin, saying "no,
This is what happens when poets blow it

SAGA LOUT

The tattoos may be faded
But don't be in any doubt
If you wind me up
You're as good as dead
'cause I'm a Saga Lout

I'll take no shit from no one
If you cross me on my day out
Show me respect
Keep up your guard
'cause I'm a Saga Lout

I holidays with club 80 - 50
Last year I pulled some old trout
Gave a good old seeing too
in her hotel room
'cause I'm a Saga Lout

I may get cheap car insurance
My teeth may all come out
But don't look at me like
that sonny jim
'cause I'm a Saga Lout

I read books at arms length
My pension is worth nout
But zimmer frame or
no zimmer frame
I'm still a Saga Lout

My hearing is going a little
Sometimes you may need to shout
But be careful
of what you are saying
'cause I'm a Saga Lout

Don't be fooled by this arthritis
I'm still on for many a bout
I don't mind punching
below the belt
'cause I'm a Saga Lout

My knees have started playing up
My nose hair is starting to sprout
But don't judge me
By my appearance
I am still a Saga Lout

I suffer from chronic indigestion
My big toes are swollen with gout
Be we all get older
But I won't fade away
Because I am a Saga Lout

WHEN TINA SPEAKS

She speaks to the old
She speaks to the youth
When Tina speaks
She tells the truth

Words of wisdom
Born form insight
When Tina speaks
You see the light

She speaks down-to-earth
Nothing profound
When Tina speaks
Her words are sound

She puts it in a sentence
Like you've never heard
When Tina speaks
She gets it in a word

She helps you see
She ends the trial
When Tina speaks
You start to smile

THE BARON OF THE BOTLEY ROAD

He's Steve McQueen
He's a love machine
He's the Baron of the Botley Road

He's a football player
A local soothsayer
He's living on overload

He's the Shaman of the Bells
A god to all the girls
He's the Baron of the Botley Road

He's a motor biker
Galaxy hitchhiker
He's reaping what he's sewed

He's the dark side of the alley
He's the King of Aunt Sally
He's the Baron of the Botley Road

He's a late night dancer
He's a social chancer
He's living by the code

He's a hero to the nation
He's on a chemical vacation
He's the Baron of the Botley Road

He's a demon on the keys
Green fingered with the weeds
He's the gardener of what he's hoed

He's a celeb in the kitchen
He's moody and he's bitching
He's the Baron of the Botley Road

He can hang you a door
Sing like Aznovor
He's travelled around the globe

He's a lover and a brother
He's one mean mother
He's the Baron of the Botley Road

Amen

THE ARTIST FORMALLY KNOWN AS STEVE

If you need some art work done
And your designer is away on leave
Don't despair, pick up the phone
And call the artist formally known as Steve

When all hope is lost for that airbrushing job
Don't just cry on your sleeve
Get in your car, go down the Bells
And search for the artist formally known as Steve

When your colour scheme's clashing
Don't look at it and start to heave
Get it sorted, get the job done
By the artist formally known as Steve

When your posters are late
No point in starting to grieve
Open a bottle, fill up a glass
And toast the artist formally known as Steve

Let it be known he's the best in the land
He's worthy of all he receives
So roll up a note, cut up a line
For the artist formally known as Steve

GET OUT FAST

When you can tell that things aren't right
When you know it's not gonna last
Check all the exits open to you
And get out of there real fast

When you are out-numbered two to one
And the final die has been cast
Watch your back, cover your tracks
And, get out fast, get out fast

When the future is all that is left to you
When the present is worse than the past
Set your co-ordinates out of there
And get out fast, get out fast

When you are drifting out to sea
On a ship with a broken mast
Grab what you can, something that floats
And get out fast, get out fast

WHEN FAIRIES GO BAD

There is a bit of goblin in every fairy
If it comes out it can be quite scary
When suddenly you feel
You are going mad
Well, that's what happens when fairies go bad

So much good is hard to sustain
And there's a touch of darker stuff inside the brain
It makes you feel a little insane
It can make you very sad
But, that's what happens when fairies go bad

When love gets betrayed
Just to get laid
And all of your debts remain unpaid
When you know you are being a cad
Surely you should know by now,
That's what happens when fairies go bad

SID AND NANCY DO SAINSBURYS

Nancy stares into Sid's glazed eyes
Sid lets his hand stray across her thighs
In the cold meat section
You can hear their sighs
When Sid and Nancy do Sainsburys

In frozen foods the air is cool
And Sid presses Nancy up against the wall
Its not the Haagen Das making them drawl
When Sid and Nancy do Sainsburys

In the aisle marked coffee and teas
Sid looks at Nancy and drops to his knees
To taste the difference, Nancy's pleased
When Sid and Nancy do Sainsburys

In the warmth of cooked chickens
Next to the deli
Sid puts his hands on Nancy's belly
CCTV gets it all on the telly
When Sid and Nancy do Sainsburys

A stack of toilet tissue falls to the floor
Nancy stares at Sid
begging more more more
Sid sticks his tongue into her jaw
When Sid and Nancy do Sainsburys

From fruit and veg to check out till
For Sid and Nancy it's thrill thrill thrill
If it wasn't for closing time
They'd be there still
When Sid and Nancy do Sainsburys

PSYCHEDELIC LOVE

In the heat of the sheets
Making psychedelic love
Red hair
White skin
Green eyes
In the heat of the sheets
Making psychedelic love

In the heat of the sheets
Making psychedelic love
Paisley pillow
After-burn movements
Tracer teeth
In the heat of the sheets
Making psychedelic love

In the heat of the sheets
Making psychedelic love
Stretching lips
Fluid limbs
Floating bodies
In the heat of the sheets
Making psychedelic love

PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE

My relate counsellor
Told me I was 'passive aggressive'
I didn't know if that was because
I reminded her of Steve McQueen
Or is it that I just didn't give a toss

It was in 'Bullet' that Steve McQueen
Played his most 'passive aggressive'
Keith Moon from The Who lived
next door to Steve for a while
I would have thought that would have
Made Steve 'aggressive'

Keith busted up with his wife
While he was living there
She later moved in Ian McClagen
From the Small Faces
Keith's counsellor probably said
He was 'fucking bonkers'

Mine told me I was 'passive aggressive'
And all of that came to mind
I sat there thinking
"If she calls me 'passive aggressive'
One more time
I'll kick her fucking head in"
Of course, I didn't show that
In my facial expressions
or my general posture
Neither did I do it
But she knew
She knew all right

THE BULLINGDON

In the days when
Frankie Goes to Hollywood
was charting,
Late at night
Joe would call out
"A taxi for Dublin Martin!"

Nephew Tony filled the pint jugs
to the brim with ice,
he said it cooled the glass down
and made the Guinness taste nice.

Around an open fire
Out the back of all the bars,
Blues tunes were strummed
On broken string guitars.

Behind drawn curtains
That kept out the night
Martin would order
"Another pint of shite!"

He would stand by his bar stool
Hands in is coat
And have us all spellbound
With Paddy McGynties Goat

The atmosphere was always thick
The creative juices flowed
Until the dawning sun came up
Along the Cowley Road

To that Bodhrán beat
We'd stamp our feet
Under pictures of Shaw and Yates
Joe would do his 'bit on the side'
As the evening became late

Many faces passed through there
Some are not with us now
But we'll never forget the Bullingdon
When it had its finest hour

On nights when things got out of hand
And the strummers turned into a 20 piece band
Music poured out over the land
Along the Cowley Road

As the Guinness flowed
We used to play pool
As some one sang
"You're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool"

All the women there were cool
Given the respect they were owed
Until the morning sun came up
Over the Cowley road

In its glory, at its best
It was like the 'cool aid Guiness test'
The days were short, the nights were long
In Joe Ryan's Bullingdon

Now it has gone
But respects are owed
To Joe Ryan, The Bullingdon
And the Cowley Road.

FOR WHOM THE EIGHT BELLS TOLL

Starry night skies
Through beer blurry eyes
Laughter and sighs
Lift up the soul
The truth and the lies
For whom the Eight Bells toll

MODEL VILLAGE

There is a model village
Just off the M40 near Beconsfield.
Naomi Cambel lives there
Just up from the Little church
Opposite a 1 foot square house
Where Kate Moss lives
Twiggy lives in a tiny retirement home
At the back of the farm yard
That I nearly trod on.
Jean Shrimpton has a room next to her,
They have to keep her sedated.
Liz Hurley moved out of the
End of terrace cottage
When she got pregnant by Bing
Well, that is what the neighbours think.
Claudia Shiffer has her car
Permanently parked outside the
Village station
She must have a lot of tickets by now.
The clock tower next to Jordan's house
Has gone rusty
And the paint is flaking on Jerry Hall's lawn.

Of course, some may say
They don't really live there.
In fact there are no models
Living there at all.
But when I walk around
the model village
just off the M40,
near Beconsfield,
Looking down on the rooftops,
I like to think they do.

BIRDS FLY

Lonely and sad
I walk the streets of Oxford
Under the gleaming spires
That few dreams inspire
A sun sets over a distant field
of yellow rape
As silloetted birds fly
like me
Back to their nest

HAZEL'S NAVEL

Jimmy Hendrix said:
"Purple Haze is all around
Don't know if I'm up or down"

I took Hazel to have her
Belly button pierced.
I couldn't make it rhyme
But it was poetry

MY CAR

My mechanic Floyd said
"It's a head case Bill"
I said
"Floyd, do I look like a sucker"
"No, straight up"
Floyd replied
"I'd advise you to out the fucker"

ROY THE BOY

Roy the Boy was a Barking boy
He didn't have a chance
He started out stealing Mars bars
Then moved on to other peoples houses
and their cars
Roy the Boy was a Barking boy
He didn't have a chance
He worked for a while
Down on the Thames Barrier
He went out with a nurse
But he didn't marry her
He lived the life that he had made
His face had a scar
From a Stanley blade
Roy the Boy was a Barking boy
He didn't have a chance
One night down at Bow Locks
Roy the Boy blooded his Docs
The other geezer cried
He could have died
Now Roy's inside
Nowhere to hide
Roy the Boy was a Barking boy
He really didn't have a chance

YOU MAKE ME COME

You make me cum in colours
Like a Jackson Pollock canvas
Like Van Gogh's skies and his starry nights
Like Yves Klein's blues
Picasso’s hues
And Warhol's shoes
You mix me up
and lay me down
You make me cum in colours

FOOD OF LOVE

Sex without love
Is like wine without food
I eat you and drink you
My wine and my food

NOT A DREAM

I have burnt more bridges
Than most will ever cross
I have lived on the edge
Like candy floss

But I am strong underneath
My will to live is supreme
And this is MY life
It isn't a dream

LIKE A BITCH

I will leave this world
The way I came in
Screaming and crying
Looking for sin

If I get to heaven
The angels will wish
I was back on this earth
Living like a bitch

YOU TURN ME ON

You turn me on
Like the sun opens flowers
You turn me on
Like a generator feeds
the city with electricity
You turn me on
like acid on a happy day
You turn me on
like the wind fills a sail
You turn me on
like jazz
You turn me on
You turn me on
You turn me on
You turn me on
You turn me on
You turn me on
You turn me on
You turn me on
You turn me on
Off

I HAVE BEER

I have beer
I have cigarettes
I have wet feet
I have food
I have hope
I have money
I have love
I have life
I am a man

TIME TO

TIME TO THINK
TIME TO SEE
TIME TO FEEL
TIME TO DREAM
TIME TO TELL
TIME TO LOVE
TIME TO LIVE
TIME TO LAUGH
TIME TO PLAY
TIME TO PASS
TIME TO QUESTION
TIME TO CONNECT
TIME TO TOUCH
TIME TO FIND
TIME TO LOSE
TIME TO REMEBER
TIME TO FORGET
TIME TO CRY
TIME TO DIE

ON THE WAY 3

Dusk over some place I have never been
City streets I have never known
twinkle their lights up to me
inviting me down
So many lives down there
So many ways of living
Twinkling like everyone else

ON THE WAY 2

Six miles high
over a candy floss landscape
Speeding forwards to you
with metal wings
Six miles down
to Istanbul City
Where you are
like an angel with wings

ON THE WAY 1

The roads we are on
take us to death
So take the happy road
as far as you can

DRIVING ISTANBUL

I am driving through Istanbul
Listening to the radio
Sitting next to me is beautiful woman
Both of us are extremely happy
I park the car and get out
I am in Uxbridge and the woman has gone

TXT ME 2

TXT me your :)
TXT me your xoxox
TXT me your mmmmmmmmmm
TXT me your love

TXT ME

txt me a kiss
give me your cyber love
let me feel your lips
let me hold your hipslet's make that kind of love

CU CG

You smile on-line like a sunrise
Tanning my white skin with your rays
Your words silently appear and disappear
but for long after their feeling stays

GLOOM ON EARTH

Silence explodes all around me
Emptiness fills up my room
Jet planes up in the sky
Twinkle their lights like lovers eyes
Down here on earth it's gloom

BATHED BABE

bathed in sunlight
bathed in starlight
bathed in screenlight
bathed in love
bathed babe

KNEE DEEP IN THE ZAPPED

I moved through chat rooms
Knee deep in the zapped
Searching for you
Rooms full of lost souls
Rooms full of arseholes
Knee deep in the zapped
Searching for you

A Word From The Outcast

These of poems were written between 2005 and now. I do regular readings at “Sparky’s Flying Circus” at Joe Ryan’s Half Moon, on The Plain in Oxford (UK), every Thursday evening from about 9pm. If you are around call in, have a beer or two nad listen to some poetry and music. Come and read your own or play us something if you want. It would be nice to see you.

Outcast Poet

T. S. Elliot
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

AIM HIGH SHOOT LOW
©
"ALL FOR LOVE"