Poems should hit like a fluttering punch to the heart - RIGHT???
99.999999% of 'poems' play like the writer is filing a tax return and the reader has to pay...
The movie you can’t forget; a song of summer age 18; fresh skies in the morn on a day off; waking in the inner city, country, village, town, and nothing mattering ever again.
The light and grace and buzz of adventure.
Reading this and thinking, fucking hell, YES…
Poems are cannons and flowers and laughing until it HURTS.
They make you feel.
Like
the
below…
how did pink floyd get big???
you audition for your memoirs
as the neighbour bangs the walls
and the email drops
and it’s some dude from a year you forgot on a greek isle
hanging out at the souvlaki stand and the club 18-30 rep who was 21 to your 18 showed you what’s what after you told her, frankly, ‘i’m not very good at this’; and there’s the time, now,
trying out in the casting call
when all the tough boys from town got pimped out in women’s clothes, makeup, the whole rocky horror show and Ed T hit the island midnight and you met him on the chopper, took him to find his pals and they were blitzed on booze and acid
so you store this in the ‘maybe’ file and keep on casting casting calls for the peek into your annalsÂ
like
that time stood in the meadow half nakedÂ
or the sun razing stepping off the 2 seater plane
at goa airport, the cows having zero clue who you are
and the day starts and the day ends
and you think of the gang in the press room
post Guardiola post City beating Wolves on Sunday quipping/telling them: ‘only 30 more years to go’ and knowing some time all will have gone to the newsroom celestial heavenly hellÂ
and can you recall one moment you forgot you forgot?
say coming out of hope street No 14
you’re 18
and all you have before is nothing unless you want it
so this goes into the backstory as frontstory of the memoirs
a vignetteÂ
primer
literary devices r us
while keeping on rolodex-ing more auditions like how the whistling bit out of walk like an egyptian holds the joy of kidhood then pondering what’s intrinsic what isnae to a ditty and the broadcaster you got curious about how he vanished if he vanished before you’re on TV with him the next evening discussing man utd (ooh quaint coincidence) and one casting call you dinnae have to cast is the title nom de plume/guerre of this nostalgia fest for the future:::
feeling
feeling
feeling
feelingÂ
because:::::
what else is there?????????????????????????????