Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Forget the Ides of March !

THE LAUNCH DATE OF THE POETRY BUS MAGAZINE IS................Drum roll......pause.......baited fish.....Fuck it, it's MIDSUMMER'S DAY! My favourite day, balmy, barmy and maggeekal.

It's 21st June and perhaps, I din't really know or care, the summer solstice. It's also made famous in the play 'A midsummer nights dream' by Edridge Coleman.

June is brillo, often full of sun and daylight and short nights and long days and heat and happiness and hope and holidays and ice cream and forgetting your cares and for going places with your friends and getting drunk and falling over and falling in love.

I've been doing things the right way in the right order with the mag, compiling it, getting it designed, applying for funding.This is where I have gone wrong. I never do things the right way, if there's a wrong way to do something I'll usually find it. I've been all here's me belly me arse is coming, now I'm gonna be here's me arse me belly is coming.
Like I usually do.

I'm starting with the final thing, the launch, in belief that everything else will fall into place. So put it in your diaries June 21st 2010 the first issue of The Poetry Bus Magazine will hit the streets.

I'm doing another funding application which I will have to drive to it's destination as I've left it too late to post. This will be interesting as I have the car's THIRD NCT (MOT) test, yes, THIRD test, tomorrow.I'm too emotionally traumatised at this stage to even begin to recount the catalogue of farce inflicted on me and my luffly but ancient Audi by Laurel and Hardy down at the test centre. Sweary words were exchanged the last time, I'm bringing boxing gloves this time. Think of me at 12.25 pm, I'm seeking positive thoughts and new medication.

By the way it's not just L and H that have it in for me. A few nights ago someone, some thing, stole the drivers side wing mirror (just the glass) and (wait for it) the windscreen wiper!! Frantic trawls around the scrapyards yielded a replacement mirror that fits-mostly.I just hope tweedle Dum doesnt touch it when he tests the car tomorrow.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

She is a BUS! The Bus is a she?

Never thought of the bus having a gender.Never saw it as a woman, all diesel and weight and dirt.Maybe that was sexist of me? Any which way here (or there) she is over at another Scottish bard's house (ok, I know Foxo is Englo but she lives in Scotlo) Cyclist extraordinaire and medical Doctor /Surgeon/Nurse/ type enigmatic thing ,Swiss! Who is an accomplished (Bus) poet and has just had a poem selected for next issue of qarrtsiluni. Well done Swiss.

He has an intewresting task for us here...

Get writing people of The Bus.

Ps Don't forget to check out my TWO lists of books to buy in the previous posts.To which you can add Jeanne's book The Theory Of Iconic Realism. Jeanne is another bus poet and hasn't missed a trip, she is also a smart cookie and a Professor!

Hers is a foundational book on a revolutionary theory as a way to interpret art, music, literature, film and the media in relation to culture. If someone who writes for a literary journal would love to review it, then that person could own it for FREE. Otherwise, with a note to Jeanne, providing a land address, she will promptly send a discount form of $39.95 (£19.95...or thereabouts). The discount is effective through May, 2010. After that, the price returns to $89.95.

One day, when she's alphabetically between Julia Kristeva and George Lukacs in a Theory Anthology, you'll be able to sell this little book for thousands of dollars, perhaps millions! It has sold on Amazon for $190.00 in New Jersey this past year. Already a hot item with collectors! Get it while you can!

Monday, March 29, 2010

Stuff and things a more stuff Part UNO!

First up mucho thanksy to Rachel Fox who who drove the Poetry bus with much aplomb.A pure natural she took to bus driving like a duck to water. She has to hand the keys over to Swiss for next week.He'll park the Bus up here.... or possibly here... he may not even turn up at all,which is where the excitement builds n'est ce pas?Put a drop of Diesel in for him Foxo and make sure you leave it in gear, the handbrake isn't what it was.Great to see some new passengers aboard, ye are all very welcome to The People's Poetry Bus,I look forward to more new recruits next week and all the weeks to come. Great too to have the usual gang on the back seat. This journey is gonna be....emotional!

In another part of the Galaxy....

Well done to Bus poets Kate Dempsey (Emerging writer) Niamh Bagnell (Various) Peter Goulding (The stammering Poet) and TotalFeckinEEjit (TotalFeckinEEjit) who are all about to be published in the latest copy of Revival poetry magazine.Revival is always an interesting read, it's one of only two poetry mags that I buy regularly.Why don't you buy it? It's lovely, made of paper and full of poems, what more could anyone want?Don't forget my poem is in there,(as well as 3 other bus poets) and is probably the best poem ever written. People have been known to swoon under the sheer joy of it's spell. It can cure warts, piles, ringworm and certain strains of the common cold. It is also guaranteed to bring you untold wealth. All that for €7 !!! Buy your cure/wealth/ poems here....... Think of it not as a purchase but an investment in your mental, physical and financial well being.

More things.....

Hard to believe people that Christmas is but around the corner again.Where did that year go to?Only 239 shopping days left till the big day.I bet you haven't got a single present bought, but don't worry, panic ye not, for I am here to help with The TotalFeckinEEjit Christmas Present Guide 2010!

All these thingswill make fantasto gifts for all people of all ages , alive or dead.

First from Bus Driver extraordinaire and Poet Rachel Fox , a really lovely poetry collection called 'More about the song' It's eco friendly and beautifully made and a bargain at £7. She also does a fine range of poetry postcards, these make brilliant bookmarks as well as being handy to send to people. Buy her book and cards here.....

Another deadly no prisoners taken (even when prisoners are taken) collection ,this time from Bus Poet Joanne McKay Titus.Hard hitting and moving. At £5 it's worth buying for the wonderful cover alone! Email Joanne to get yerself a

Stuff and things and what? Part DEUX

A fine anthology from The Deansgrange Writers Group featuring our own Bus Poet Padhraig Nolan among a host of others. A mixture of poetry and prose there is something for everyone in this professionally produced 96 page book. Padhraig's poetry is as strong as ever here and watch out for the title Story by John Piggott a metaphysical journey like you've never witnessed before! More information and how to buy can be found here....... All proceeds from this book go to The National Rehabilitation Hospital (Ireland)

John (Jack) Hayes of Robert Frost's Banjo has a finely wrought beat style (or 'beat formalist' as Jack coins it) collection called 'The Days Of Wine and Roses' It covers his poetry from 1990- 2003. Another nicely made book which can be bought in paperback for €7.30 or downloaded as a PDF for John/Jack hasn't yet been on the weekly bus but has kindly given a poem for the soon to be launched first issue of The Poetry Bus magazine.

The Poetry Divas ,Kate Dempsey (Emerging Writer) Niamh Bagnell (Various) and Triona Walsh (Domestic Oubliette) are three girly womaen type things that perform together where anyone will listen to them , including the Electric Picnic and Flatlakes festivals. All Bus Poets they produced a lovely (if girly) hand made (not home made) poetry pamphlet called Poetry Divas 1.It can be yours for a bluey (€5) plus €1 p+p here.... scroll down the sidebar to find it, you won't regret it- trust me!
I don't have a photo of it but multi talented artist Susan Sanford (ArtSparker) has a wonderful book of imagesand words about Alice In Wonderland.It's called 'Dreaming Alice' and you can preview it here and also BUY it .......... Susan is the Bus Poetry Magazine designer and illustrator and I'm looking forward to seeing her work in the finished article WATCH THIS SPACE!!!

Ok, you can stop watching now.

There you are folks that's the Christmas rush sorted. I really like to help.
Ps. Many thanks to Hyposperous (The Golden Hare) for helping with the books.Jimmy The Butler usually assists but he's still thumbing his way home after losing his shirt on Paddy The Plasterer at Cheltenham. Ah well!

Saturday, March 27, 2010

The Poetry Bus Poem.

The Bus is brim full of diesel and heading out around the world.It's already in Scotland over at Rachel Fox's blog

Get theeover to there and see the passengers and a link to this weeks challenge, set by Foxo herself, join in why doncha? The departure date is Monday but you can get aboard anytime before then(or even after) It's that kind of a bus,with a timetable from heaven.

Basically we have to choose a (favourite) word and use that for the start/basis of the poem.But that's just a guideline , you have the baton, run with it ,write anything ye like about anything ye like. JUST WRITE!

I don't have a favourite word so I waited for one to drop from the sky.And one bounced out of the poet Paul Muldoon's mouth into Niamh B's ear and onto her blog and into my poem.The word is 'guddle' which apparently is what you do when you tickle a fish to catch it.

The Beautiful South

Guddle me fuddle
We’re all in a muddle
Whispering wound and a blood ,e blood ,e blood.

And a say nothing and a nothing is silence,

And no silence is golden,

And pieces of silver go clink, a-clink ,a-clinkety, clink.

Then lick , a-lick, a lickety-lick the wounds
Clean as a whistle blower blow, a-blow, a-blowing.
What, oh what, are we showing?

A terrible racket
This poetry business.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010


The Poetry Bus World Tour is underway. Starting with Rachel Fox

Here are the tour dates in full:

Monday 29th March Foxo

Monday 5th April Swisso

Monday 12th April Niamho

Monday 19th April PFo

Monday 26th April Argento

Monday 3rd May Watercatso

Monday 10th May P.Nolano

Monday 17th May Barbara Smitho

Monday 24th May Teressao

Monday 31st May Billo

Monday 7th June Weavero

Monday 14th June Jeanneo

More drivers needed. Long hours ,(not really I'm just being dramatic) no pay, but ultimate job satisfaction guaranteed, or your money back. (Just joking no fees involved, but donations welcome.)

Sunday, March 21, 2010


I want the bus to go on tour.I'm looking for victims, I mean volunteers to drive the bus on their blog, a different blog each week for 4 weeks.If you would like to drive the bus and set the weeks task, just let me know in the comments box.If I get less than 4 that's ok,if I get more I'll put the names into a hat and pull 4 out.No experience or licence required.Doesn't matter if you've never been on the bus before or have never even written a poem, all are welcome

C'mon drive the bus, you know you want to, please?

Don't forget to see previous post below for this weeks bus trip, John McEnroe is driving but he thinks it's a boat for some reason.I think his headband might be too tight.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

THe (monday) SUndaY Pome (on a sitarday)

Looking at you with lust in my eye
picture this portrait the drinking Dorian Grey
blood shot peepers peeping at you
Whiskey and wry a one armed bandit
a triggerless gun
you've gotta hand it to me
right here in my dirty face
overweight and out of date
sing it manic street preacher
every drop says I love you
every drop makes me hate you more
happy alone when i am with you
master and mistress victim and whore
you still twist and turn me on
could I find the switch I would turn you off
i am you and you are me
and soon how happy we shall be
dying in the arms of love
one shot two shots three shots more
level up the horizon
even up the score
the best years i gave you , yet
you stole them from me
all these highs are lows
and still how happy we will be
dying in the arms of love
first thing in the morning
last thing at night
looking for the darkness
blinded by the light
straight jackets wouldn't hold me
nor prison walls confine me
till i get back to you
we are dying in the arms of love
the sweetest kiss ever crossed these lips
the blackened rose the DT throes of love
nor law nor duty nor public men nor cheering crowds
this impulse of delight
this bloodied rose
this thorn
this sweet decay
i love you still
hate you more.

Ok, (amphibious) Bus people, Batten down the hatches, burn the mainsail and splice yer barnacles, , we're heading for heavy seas. Har!

First mate Jeanne slugging it out

Awash with anarchy (Percy) Bill (Shelley)

Weaver waving the white flag from sick bay

How d'ya like these apples Cap'n ? From Rachel Fox

An alternative sea shanty from 'ave a go vigilante , Argent

They should be keelhauled from Titus

Turning tide from Enchanted Oak

Deck hand Peter Goulding is ready to deck someone who pissed him off at the Post Office

Stowaway goat from Heather

The rations cupboard from salty seadogs/Cats. The watercats

Don't feed the Pirates

Double rations on the cattle boat from Pure Fiction

Positive mutiny from Swiss

Walk yer own plank! From Niamh

Domestic Oubliette's gone overboard with Thin Lizzy.

Kat O nine tales (well two tales here)

Maybe they've got scurvy? Susan Sonnen.!.html

Karen's shipwreck

Nautical NanU is busted

Education all at sea from Crazy Field Mouse


I don't believe it! THe dream is at an end after minutes of toil, years of blood , snot,sweat and tears. It's been a rololercoaster (a cross between rolos and rollercoaster) ride of joy and laughter, pleasure and pain, sometimes the pain was the pleasure and other times the pleasure was the pain.

After jumping all the hurdle and with the finish line in sight the TFE blog bus type thing has fallen/run out of diesel at the final fence/bus stop.
Ah feck it/fuck it.
It was the jumbo header that did for me, and the fact that there just wasn't enough swearing and needlework. Being rubbish didn't exactly help either.

It will be hard now ,almost impossible ,to carry on after this devastating blow, but carry on we must, for we are men (and women and goats,) and carrying on is what men (women and goats) do best. Sure we will probably fall again, but we will pick ourselves up and maybe even fall again, (that's whiskey for you ) but we will carry on carrying on till we are carried out.

Let no man (woman, goat) here say 'he blog that is TFE didn't carry on regardless after devastatingly, and without hazzard warning lights, being eliminated in the final get down shakeup of the 2010 Irish blog awards in the best arse, sorry, best Arts and Culture blog category! '

Instead may they declare that 'this blanket is intended to be used as an "underblanket" and therefore shouldalways be placed on a relativey firm and un-adjustable donkey'

Or something equally heroic.

Hopes yous are all getting yer pomes ready for the angry bus. It will be driven by a young John McEnroe being stung by a bumble bees and swatting them with his tennis racket.

Pip pip!

(No,I didn't get them out of a sour grape)

Best of luck to all the finalists. Nuala Ní Chonchúir is in there and Emerging Writer's son, so extra best luck to them!

Thursday, March 18, 2010


(Putting the Ha! into hate.)

What gets your goat, up yer nose, sticks in your craw?

Do idiots irk you, are you browned off by bores, piqued by politicians, angered by arseholes?

Do you take umbrage at eye level umbrellas wielded willy nilly, are you peeved by people with no sense of personal space,do you hate it when someone get's a cheque out at the checkout, do you bristle at people who whistle, does another meaningless statistic drive you ballistic, do jeeps give you the creeps, , does tobacco drive you wacko, an opportunity missed make you pissed , do only twats have tattoos, is it cruel to have zoos are you sick of bad news, tell me your views.

Do The Bee Gees give you the hebeegeebies, Johnny Cash give you a rash,would you choke if a bloke preached another smidgen of religion, would you ask an atheist to desist, can you handle another scandal, would a Duke make you Puke, a King soil your ring, is a president the wrong kind of resident,is beer too dear, are drugs the dregs?

So have a wail about war, a pop at the pope, bellyache about Berlusconi talking baloni, frown at Brown, be dow-n about Cowen, barrack Barack,and just for the craic if you think poets are pests or you hate string vests,if you're a victim of crime , or unjustly doing time, then put it in rhyme.

I want anger!I want bile! I want venom! I want vitriol! I want fury!I want passion! I want wrath! I want rage! I want a lie down!

Be as serious or as flippant as ye like, but pretend you've just stubbed both your big toes on an iron bed leg, that's the level of fucking anger, pain, and annoyance I want!

THis is THE PROTEST BUS! Bring your own banners and loudhalers, we're going out across the world!

Altogether now,

" Whada we want?"
"Protest poems!"
"When do we want 'em?"
" By next Monday at the latest!" Etc etc etc.

Stick two fingers up to the world, it won't make any difference, but you'll feel a lot better, I promise.

Ps.For inspiration. A protest poem.(found this on Rachel Fox's blog)

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Poetry Bus the report

Twasn't the best of prompts,I'll give ye that. A toughie it turned out to be,what the feck was I thinking, in me Irish blog olympics week an all?

I get most of my best lines on the cusp of sleep lying in bed (or on the floor) , sometimes maybe even the gist of a short story and I always think Janey Mac, that's brilliant , I'll bish-bash-bosh that out in the morning, fame and fortune will be mine.Then morning comes (or afternoon ) invariably by which time, of course , it has evaporated into the ether like the steam off a cow's moonlit piss .

But this one 'She was wearing Stella MaCartney,I was drinking Stella Artois' lasted the night.Probably because it was really rubbish.I say rubbish but the other one that stuck was 'I've got an itch in me throat, I've had a scratch of me scrote' -So count yourselves lucky.

Poems are like children, you raise them but then ya gotta let them go. They're your's to have, but not to keep.They have lives of their own.If people love them don't get too big headed and if people hate them , don't take it too hard, they are your's but they are not YOU.

I got two comments of polar opposites on my poem this week, one I loved that told me exactly what I was hoping, the other precisely what I didn't want to hear.But which was correct, either? Neither/ Both? Who knows?

Ya gotta just do your own thing, sing your own song. If you like it ,then stick with it. Be the judge. Sometimes you've gotta keep singing the same song till people like it, other times you've really gotta find a new one, but knowing which to do might take a lifetime to find out.There's the rub, and there's the fun.

You can't control what people read into them either.Ted Hughes said that poets build houses, but it's up to people how they live in them.That said , I have to point out (Kat!) that there were no wives battered in the course of me pome and Mrs EEjit as is, and Miss EEjit as was , is not, and never will be (prosibly)* a punchbag in real life either!

Even a prompt has a life of it's own I really didn't see the slapstick coming.But variety, the spice of life, that's one of the reasons I love The Bus.I can't wait each week to see where we are going! There was multicoloured threads of humour and there was doggerel, there was mad and crazy rhyme, but there was other stuff woven as well, ecclectic hardly does it justice.But mucho thanks to everyone that took the time and talent to join in with a poem or a comment.

Happy St Patrick's Day to all.

Ps. St Patrick if you're up there/out there/ in Aldi, come back, we need you, you left the worst snakes behind, the bishops, the politicians, the bankers, the lawyers..........
* 'Prosibly' A word I invented to cover the space between 'possibly' and 'probably', but slightly closer to the latter.

Monday, March 15, 2010

THe BUS The Busz The BUsh the Brash the Bushell The Brushes TheBes The BUSt The Bustard The Ballilika The Ballustrades The Bollix

Will I ever forget?

She was wearing Stella McCartney
I was drinking Stella Artois
An homage to the pastiche of ourselves
We were a match struck in heaven
But lit in hell fingernails painted and bitten
In equal measure the pleasure was in the pain
Hold on, hold on, tight to the night
Neon gypsy bus tripped out wires star crossed
Danced dizzy in a haze of love of excess
Sense yet to be learned our fingers burned
Fireworks in the black, black Manchester skies
Police helicopter marlboro smokes searchlit
Platt Fields bodies in the pond words on the wire
Fists before dawn guns around the corner
Of our lexicon, fight five times a week
Battered blue boy, the drunk kid on the block
Self-defence was excused
Downstairs in The White Lion subversive
Subterranean, survival of the luckiest
Danger licked the corners, bravado
By the pint more desperate than strong
Kiss me Judas-quick if you think that wrong
Rough injustice no friend of mine, but
She was the stars, I the moon
We blaze our own neon nebulas
From the back of a stolen car
the sodium lights blurr 70 , 80 ,90
Princess Parkway, one way, one way only,
And that was Out.

Argents subject is feeling a bit cut off.

Stella crossed lovers from Niamh

Stellar line up from Titus

Oedipus complex from Weaver?

Full moon from Karen

Padhraig's Bolt from the blue

These watercat shoes were made for walking (out)

Ringo you're a star from Don't feed the pixies

Swiss has had a skinfull

Southside girl Northside Bar NanU

Unrequited lust from Heather

Life can be Hell without Villanelle- Ask Poetikat

She loves you yeah, yeah, yeah? Crazy Field Mouse

Lemons but no sour grapes from The Alchemist's Pillow

Oh, Ruby, don't take your love to town- Susan Sonnen!.html

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Friday, March 12, 2010

Ah, Feck, feck and feckitty feck!

How fughin typical is that? Here I am a leg end in my own lifetime, a bloggo genius at the peak of bloggability and on the cusp of blogging immortality in the Irish Blogger awards (apparently I breezed through round one.Round two ,a mere formality, is on Friday) and my prize winning header blows up out of all proportion. No matter how hard I hit the screen with a hammer it just won't shrink back down to normal size. Despite officially having the best blog in the WORLD * , I surely might possibly miss out on a top prize now. (This may look like a handy excuse for losing, but that's only because it is.)

Rather cleverly, however, I have managed to upload my old header pic underneath the new bloated header to illustrate the difference whilst at the same time creating an exciting and somewhat avant garde collage that may well win the hearts and minds of the rather gorgeous and highly astute judges that will be popping in. I in no way wish to influence their decision by saying that any prize monies , freebies,groupies, trips, pot noodles will be shared among them when, I mean if, I win. No, that would be plain wrong.

Don't forget now this weeks Poetry Bus challenge is to craft a poem using the breathtakingly brilliant first lines wot I rote but can't (yet ) finish

'She was wearing Stella McCartney,
I was drinking Stella Artois'

Or swap it about to suit yourself/gender.

If anyone from Mars or Carlow are looking in, Stella McCartney is a fashion designer and daughter of famous ex Beatle, Ringo Starr. Stella Artois is a Belgian medicinal cure for warts and walking straight.

Get your poems written, post them on your blogs next Monday, leave a comment in me box and I'll post links to all the doings. All aboard!

* Source: Guiney's Book of Bollix.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Hell hath no fury

like a magazine mogul scorned.My (our!) funding application to Wicklow County Council has been rejected. Are we disappointed? You betcha, big time!. Are we surprised? Not a jot!The realist within me is downhearted, the remnants of the young rebel that I once was is delighted and thinks Fuck them! Who needs their money anyway? Go it alone, independent and free. Be in no one's pocket.
Either which way this magazine will go ahead, it's a good thing and won't be killed.I'm more interested in publishing The Poetry Bus and all it's poets than I am in publishing/writing my own stuff, so I won't give up.I'm more determined than ever to make it a great magazine.

Rejectees are allowed to ask for feedback so I'll be doing that.I'll also be very interested to see who did get funding.If they have a better project than our Poetry Bus ,then fair fecks to them, they deserve every cent.

The next step is to seek funding from Artslinks,I'm more optimistic about this. I was hoping to seek funding for a new camera there, but that can wait. (Cue violins)
Should this fail it's plan B, which is a totally foolproof plan.Not sure what it is yet, but it's brilliant and won't fail. (Please note, no animals and very few humans will be hurt in plan B)

As for the virtual poetry bus, lovely poems again this week and thanks to each and every one of you that took the time to create . That's the whole point of the thing, to encourage everybody and anybody to write and provide them with an outlet for it, then to get people to read it. This is the Peoples Poetry Republic! Neither The Bastards nor The Angels will grind us down.

THIS WEEKS POETRY TASK is to finish a poem starting with these genius lines wot I thought of ages ago but cannot finish(yet)

'She was wearing Stella McCartney,
I was drinking Stella Artois'

If you is a woman ( I love women) you can, if ye like, switch it to

'I was wearing Stella McCartney
he was drinking(stinking of) Stella Artois'

And just go for it, whatever comes into your head, and let's see where everybody ends up. Oh, and if you want to know the names of the people who thought our poetry enterprise was not worthy of funding they are....

Nora Hickey- Director Mermaid Arts Centre Bray

Tara Connaghan- Director Eigse Carlow Arts Festival

Carmel Moore- Executive Librarian Wicklow County Council

Live long and prosper peeps. Bus Poets of the world unite, they will not chain us, they will not change us , we are freeborn people of this planet and we will have our say!Vive la revolution ,vive le Republic, vive la Bus!!!

PS. If any of ye wish to contact Wicklow Arts Office direct to find out why we were denied funding please contact Jenny Sherwin, Arts officer, Wicklow County Council Tel. o404 20155 or easier / cheaper, simply email

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Das Poetry Bus ist schnell und schon.

Can you believe it's almost Monday? It doesn't seem hardly even almost a week since last monday. Time is such a funny substance, sometimes you have piles of it on your hands and you can't seem to wash it off , even with a brillo pad.
Other times it slips through your fingers like sand and you can't keep hold of it, nor track of it. . A buttered up pig on poteen and Red Bull is easier to contain . But what is time? How do we really measure it? In pints or bottles? How do we know when time is up ? How do we know when time has run out? And where is it going, why the hurry? Maybe it's trying to catch The Poetry Bus....Go greased lightning it's burning up the quarter mile, go greased lightning, ooh greased lightening!

Yes Folks , its party time again. A peoples poetry party , where people write poetry and post it on their blogs and pretend we're all on a bus. And why not? We come to raise Caesar not to marry him.

My poem is shite, no sorry, my poem is ' a work in progress' I'll post it now in all it's raw monstrosity and ineptitude and you may even see it metamorphosise before your very mince pies over the next couple of tangents in the cosmos otherwise known as days. Or not.(Time can touch the circle of life but it can never cross it, unless the lollipop woman is there)

I’m still on

The train to Aberystwyth
I had a ticket, a lift to the station.
Early morning, Uncle Liam granite man
The great escape, windows and fields flying by
Every passing house another few bricks away from home
And everything noosed me to the seat

The train to Aberystwyth
Left from Reading or Watford and changed at Crewe
I was meant to try and save me
A lifeline thrown , clickety clack.
Beer and sandwiches, heaven on a plate
Stale dust rising in morning light
Hearts can carry heavy weight
The irony of intent Romeo and due regret
Dire Straits how apt
Clickety clack don’t look back

Trains to Aberystwyth always leave
They never arrive, lost in self
Reflections of faces in the window
A thousand breaths of relief hypnotic
Passing over gravel and sleepers
Iron wheels spark steel tracks
Always there never back
Always there never back
Always there.

The bus this week is driven by The Fonz and first aboard is...




Don't Feed The Pixies


Rachel Fox



Pure Fiction

Dominic Rivron


Emerging Writer





Crazy Field Mouse


NanU (part deux)

Domestic Oubliette


Friday, March 5, 2010

YE didn't feckin miss me!

I was away. Virtually away, or away virtually. No internet connection for two whole days!! ( Be honest now, you didn't even notice did you? Your little world kept on turning just fine without me. Six feet under I could have been and ye would still be watching Bradley getting buried on Eastenders)

Combine this with no alcohol for FIVE whole days and you have a desperate man on the edge. Not The Edge from U2. I've never even met him let alone got on him. But I was baying at the moon, scampering around on all fours and chewing the legs off the table. This was mainly due to the messy divorce from the drink, but also the insatiable desire to check my emails.
Stuff was surely happening, commissions, acceptances, offers, requests, bursaries, all kinds of fascinating, exciting, life affirming stuff was being stuffed into my inbox and I couldn't get my hairy hands on to it. (I didn't have hairy hands till I gave up drink by the way.) From the drink to the brink in five eternal, irritable, shaky days.

But NO! Amazingly fek all was happening as feck all always happens, but emails are like the Lotto, the day you don't check your numbers, is the day your sure you've won.

Anyway I'm back now and coincidentally back on the drink as it's the weekend and to celebrate and for no other reason except for joy itself I'm going to shout out Bollix ! And even louder BOLLIX!! Why? Because I can !

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Train Train! It's the POETRY BUS!

Writing poetry is like painting The Forth Bridge- if you fall off you ain't gonna ride the bicycle again. Nope, I'm not sure what that means either, But I do know the Poetry Bus is turning around and coming backatcha again and this week it's got TRAINS on the brain. Write ANYTHING you like but if you canno think of 'anything' then write a poem about anything involving trains.
If ye still canno think of anything turn up your speakers /headphones to the max and clickety clacks down the' ya tube' tracks below for inspiration.( and a bit of perspiration, from The Rev.)

Any-which-way-up write a poem of your choice, post it on your blog and leave a comment in me box so I can provide links to all the poetry. The Bus leaves MONDAY! Good luck and may your train go with you.

Tube station

Trés bien

A terrible beauty is born

Ps. If anyone can figure out the lyrics to the Rev's song please put your answers on a postcard and send it to' What the fuck is the big fella saying?' EEjit Castle, Peeps Republo D'EEjit, Tipp North.
All entrants can get a totally cool FREE Rev Peyton's Damn Big Band Poster for FREE here FREE. Did I say it was FREE?
Mrs EEjit is getting a washboard and I'm gonna makes me a steel geetar out of empty beer cans.

Monday, March 1, 2010


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Well , that was a smorgesbord of death and delight! People eaten by cows, scattered among the dirt or lifted high in a soapy bubble and every possible imagining in-between. Thanks a million for all your poems, they were as varied as they were wonderful .The best/ most response ever I think.I used the word 'interesting' and 'different' a lot in the comments.Perhaps this is because we were dealing with the unknown , an ethereal intangible journey, one that can only be guessed at yet one that every single one of us must face.

Sometimes I think, well there's feck all you can do about it, so forget it. Other times I think it's the most enormous elephant sitting in the room and we really should look at it.

I didn't come up with a poem as I had to drive this week. Richard Nixon was booked and paid but didn't show (Busgate?) so instead here is an apposite song by Johnny Flynn. Pip pip!