Excellent interesing set of instructos from Niamh this week.I had things floating about and used this structure of hers to galvanise them, So I got triplets, whicxh is nice. See them below and all the other passengers here..... http://variouscushions.blogspot.com/2010/04/bus-doors-open-for-bus-ness.html and if you haven't got wroiting yet then what's keeping ye? Don't think, just do! Don't intellectualise, just feel!
Get on board, tomorrow, or tomorrow, or tomorrow we die! Remember that famous Latin inspirational phrase seen in the hallowed halls of Trinity, Oxbridge , The Sorbonne and Waterford IT.... 'Carpe diem scrotinium andronicus shako'...seize the day by the bollix poet and shake it!
Fuck You!
Three minutes is all you have
and three minutes is all you need
For a love song dead beat poets of punk
And three minutes is all I need to call you
and if I’m gonna call you,
I’m gonna call you a ****
Pretentious arrogant asshole
Take a mountain and shove it up yer arse.
Fury like Hell Hath No Poet Scorned
Buckfast breakfast
And I or he
Noises outside or inside the walls
Shuffled in shoes or bare feet
Litter on the table
Sweep it to the floor
Silence
Freezing footsteps in the snow
Christmas Eve
The jewelled prize
A black box
Your brother shot someone
that slept with his wife
Money makes the man and the machine, work.
Coins.Trap doors pulleys dumb waiters
This is about poverty this is about revolution
This is the inside of your head
Things roll like stones crackle on the floor
Knives forks tools
There’s a queue for hell civilised as you like
Pause action re-wind stop go
Put the chain around your neck
The instructions make no sense
with or without glasses
clay in their hands
the thin line walked
the floor is cold and dirty
it’s your turn, in you go,
the rats are waiting,
catch their tales
tie them up in knots
over and again.
Kite Flying.
The little black book and I gave you a black look
a backward glance a backhanded compliment
a second hand chance a moving memoir
moving away from a coup de grace
falling far away from grace
far away from a god
and falling and falling like autumn leaves
like the tears from your eyes
deeper than the ocean
buried beneath the sod
where you can fall no more
see no more do no more
kiss no more miss no more
your memory motes in the mist
your portrait watercolours
washed blackbird feathers in the rain.
Get on board, tomorrow, or tomorrow, or tomorrow we die! Remember that famous Latin inspirational phrase seen in the hallowed halls of Trinity, Oxbridge , The Sorbonne and Waterford IT.... 'Carpe diem scrotinium andronicus shako'...seize the day by the bollix poet and shake it!
Fuck You!
Three minutes is all you have
and three minutes is all you need
For a love song dead beat poets of punk
And three minutes is all I need to call you
and if I’m gonna call you,
I’m gonna call you a ****
Pretentious arrogant asshole
Take a mountain and shove it up yer arse.
Fury like Hell Hath No Poet Scorned
Buckfast breakfast
And I or he
Noises outside or inside the walls
Shuffled in shoes or bare feet
Litter on the table
Sweep it to the floor
Silence
Freezing footsteps in the snow
Christmas Eve
The jewelled prize
A black box
Your brother shot someone
that slept with his wife
Money makes the man and the machine, work.
Coins.Trap doors pulleys dumb waiters
This is about poverty this is about revolution
This is the inside of your head
Things roll like stones crackle on the floor
Knives forks tools
There’s a queue for hell civilised as you like
Pause action re-wind stop go
Put the chain around your neck
The instructions make no sense
with or without glasses
clay in their hands
the thin line walked
the floor is cold and dirty
it’s your turn, in you go,
the rats are waiting,
catch their tales
tie them up in knots
over and again.
Kite Flying.
The little black book and I gave you a black look
a backward glance a backhanded compliment
a second hand chance a moving memoir
moving away from a coup de grace
falling far away from grace
far away from a god
and falling and falling like autumn leaves
like the tears from your eyes
deeper than the ocean
buried beneath the sod
where you can fall no more
see no more do no more
kiss no more miss no more
your memory motes in the mist
your portrait watercolours
washed blackbird feathers in the rain.
When it comes to Poetry Buses, It's good to be a passenger...
13 comments:
Feeling better, then, eh? ; )
I just love those final three lines of 'Kite Flying' TFE!
You really have the bit between your teeth today eej - fantastic stuff. Wish I could reward you with a rhubarb crumble (and custard!)
Loving that Passenger version...
Re the first one - delete that poet's number for god's sake before you ring them up late some night to deliver the piece in person!!!
I like the civilised queue for hell in the second, it's a dark one
And yes - the last four lines of the third pack a fair punch as well.
A decent bit of work Mr!
I especially like the 3rd poem!
I promise not to miss this week's bus! (So just wait for me, ok? Please!)
Got to echo Jeanne Iris about the final three lines of "Kite Flying", but I liked all three poems, and I'm afraid to say the line I will most frequently bring to mind is
"Take a mountain and shove it up yer arse."
which probably says more about me than you. I love anger, and that is a class angry poem.
Also, where does one find the bollix poet?
bloomin eck!...
These poems are just the dogs proverbials! Particularly enjoyed Buckfast breakfast, and kite flying is just all over dripping with beautifullness
and all this with a bit of Sioxsie!..
I'm almost beside myself with stimulation.. err.. that sounds so wrong! :-D
This was a rip-roaring, rolling, tumbling, yowling, spitting, whirlwind this week - loved it - "There’s a queue for hell civilised as you like" was a hit for me too. I can imagine these being declamed, declamed!
These are fabulous! (Don't you love that word? Who the heck says that? But they are!!)
"There's a queue for hell civilised as you like" - love that line and all of the images in this one.
I think Kite Flying is my favorite of these, but as I said, they're all ab fab!
Wow! Wow! Wow!
There's SOME vitriol in that first one. (I wonder if there's ever been a poem with that title before?) I'm not a fan of the F-word (except when I stub my toe), but I have to say, I love the poem and can't wait to tell someone to "take a mountain..."
The second one starts out with such atmosphere and just gets better. My FAVE line is "the rats are waiting". That is superb!
Now, as if you couldn't top those two, you pull a poetic rabbit out of your hat with Kite Flying - this could well be the best of yours I've read (and there are many to choose from). I LOVE that "blackbird feathers" image.
(Those little black books certainly do stir up the old sense, don't they?)
Kat
first one made me laugh
didn't get the second at all
loved the third so much, all the images and word play, each line following so perfectly from the one before but ending up somewhere unexpected, felt quite stream-of-consciousness
thanks for sharing
and am enjoying coming and seeing the new pictures at the top of your blog too, curiouser and curiouser:-)
cfm
Have to admit, I love the mountain / arse line. Brilliant!
Never knew Souixsie did a version of that - and is she actually smiling in the video?
Wow - I love the way both Kite flying and Buckfast Breakfast just keep pulling you on to the next line, and the next line, and the next line. Really nice stuff.
And seriously productive - three poems in one post!
The bus is waiting at my place, whenever ye feel like hopping on board for this week (mmmm - I don't even want to think about the many ways in which that could be misread :)
Kite Flying touched me so much, It's beautiful, it's perfect, from the first to the last word.
"your portrait watercolours
washed blackbird feathers in the rain"
I loved the other poems, too,
of course.
And I was really glad for this song, I haven't heard it for years.
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