(written 4 September 2015)
It’s a simple view, down to the sea:
A complicated harbour,
with rod-red cranes and all-night lights
reflected in the water.
Untidy stacks of low-rise blocks
nothing ventured, nothing gained
a stumbling stack of rooftops
a racecourse painted green
the cutout cargo ships upon
an ocean of a dream
and the early morning traffic
stitching headlights through the scene.
The sun has never learnt a trick - it improvises day by day:
today it’s pushing orange through a sieve of suffering grey.
Tuesday 8 September 2015
Friday 28 August 2015
friday poem fanclub #42: Hoom... what shall we call it?
(written 28 August 2015)
A long time ago, before I threw in the towel on my marriage, before I let them cut a 6-inch gash in my stomach to remove the cause of my current troubles, I used to write a poem on Friday mornings and send it people and they’d laugh and laugh, and then everybody would get back to pretending to work. It was called the friday poem fanclub and I figured I’d give it another go. I think many of you didn't used to receive this, so this will be your first one! Yay! You can while away the day reading the old ones here: http://fizzerscotchfriday.blogspot.com/search/label/friday%20poem%20fanclub
A long time ago, before I threw in the towel on my marriage, before I let them cut a 6-inch gash in my stomach to remove the cause of my current troubles, I used to write a poem on Friday mornings and send it people and they’d laugh and laugh, and then everybody would get back to pretending to work. It was called the friday poem fanclub and I figured I’d give it another go. I think many of you didn't used to receive this, so this will be your first one! Yay! You can while away the day reading the old ones here: http://fizzerscotchfriday.blogspot.com/search/label/friday%20poem%20fanclub
Saturday 10 May 2014
fpf?+10: Time-lapse photograph of me putting on my yeodeling
(written 4 December 2008)
pants
Stupid:
This is the time of year when every theatre troupe in the land puts on a family/christmas play – I mean like how frikken obvious can you get? This is not the picture Jesus had in his mind while he was hanging on the cross, but this isn’t the time and place for tarrying on things Jesus so here’s something you didn’t know: Cinderella is Durban’s Favourite Fairy Tale. Yes! It’s true! It says so on the poster all the way down Berea Road. I didn’t know that – did you? I’m so excited that everyone else in Durban has exactly the same favourite fairy tale as me! Jeez Louise. What were they thinking? Did they do a poll? Is this the result of audience testing over the last 30 years when they got crap houses for every other fairy tale they put on so now they use cutting edge deductive reasoning and come up with the result that Cinderella must be where the hopes & dreams of Durban lie? How do you settle on that? “Durban’s Favourite Fairy Tale”? I mean isn’t it clear that it sounds needy and stupid (which is a difficult combo to pull off)? Durban’s such a small town – I’m sure one of you must know the guy who made his mark Durban with this humdinger. If you do, please tell him from me: Quit your day job and take up Buddhism.
pants
Stupid:
This is the time of year when every theatre troupe in the land puts on a family/christmas play – I mean like how frikken obvious can you get? This is not the picture Jesus had in his mind while he was hanging on the cross, but this isn’t the time and place for tarrying on things Jesus so here’s something you didn’t know: Cinderella is Durban’s Favourite Fairy Tale. Yes! It’s true! It says so on the poster all the way down Berea Road. I didn’t know that – did you? I’m so excited that everyone else in Durban has exactly the same favourite fairy tale as me! Jeez Louise. What were they thinking? Did they do a poll? Is this the result of audience testing over the last 30 years when they got crap houses for every other fairy tale they put on so now they use cutting edge deductive reasoning and come up with the result that Cinderella must be where the hopes & dreams of Durban lie? How do you settle on that? “Durban’s Favourite Fairy Tale”? I mean isn’t it clear that it sounds needy and stupid (which is a difficult combo to pull off)? Durban’s such a small town – I’m sure one of you must know the guy who made his mark Durban with this humdinger. If you do, please tell him from me: Quit your day job and take up Buddhism.
fpf?+11: The yoyo of perfection defeats the monkey of incredulity
(written 18 December 2008)
Inventions:
Shooting right to the top of the frikken best invention ever is the mosquito net – that translucent tent of peace within whose dusky drapes I slumber unsucked by mrrrrrring mozzies. If you’re a kid or a moron, you go “The Wheel. The greatest invention is the wheel” but you’re wrong. You can keep your stupid wheel, in your garage. But what of the oft-unsung floor – that most subtle and fantastic invention of mankind? True – the floor is way up there, maybe even no 2. I mean think of all the great stuff that you have because you have a floor instead of an untreated patch of lumpy earth in your lounge.
Jesus is also a really great invention – he’s almost as popular as the wheel – but according to Google’s law of authoritative links, the mozzie net wins hand down. Picture the scene: Nazareth, 1962. The German army approaches and Jesus stirs fitfully on his bedroll – the mozzies are bad tonight. He wakes and shouts into the night in anger: “Jesus Christ. Frikken mosquitos – I wish I had a bloody mosquito net!”. Now I know this is an anachronism – “Jesus Christ” wasn’t the go-to phrase for expressing animosity and negative feelings about a situation in 24AD – but that’s entirely beside the point: The Mosquito net is a better invention than Jesus.
Inventions:
Shooting right to the top of the frikken best invention ever is the mosquito net – that translucent tent of peace within whose dusky drapes I slumber unsucked by mrrrrrring mozzies. If you’re a kid or a moron, you go “The Wheel. The greatest invention is the wheel” but you’re wrong. You can keep your stupid wheel, in your garage. But what of the oft-unsung floor – that most subtle and fantastic invention of mankind? True – the floor is way up there, maybe even no 2. I mean think of all the great stuff that you have because you have a floor instead of an untreated patch of lumpy earth in your lounge.
Jesus is also a really great invention – he’s almost as popular as the wheel – but according to Google’s law of authoritative links, the mozzie net wins hand down. Picture the scene: Nazareth, 1962. The German army approaches and Jesus stirs fitfully on his bedroll – the mozzies are bad tonight. He wakes and shouts into the night in anger: “Jesus Christ. Frikken mosquitos – I wish I had a bloody mosquito net!”. Now I know this is an anachronism – “Jesus Christ” wasn’t the go-to phrase for expressing animosity and negative feelings about a situation in 24AD – but that’s entirely beside the point: The Mosquito net is a better invention than Jesus.
fpf?+12: a friday poem, risen from the dead and dripping rotten zombie-flesh
(written 20 March 2009)
I saw a blue crane by the side of the road
But when I got closer I saw
It wasn’t a crane
But a mangled up sign
Saying STOP or 100 or ---
--------------------------------------------------
Indeed. Here it is. I sent the last one in – um – last year? And it’s not that I’ve had nothing to complain about; as you may imagine I’ve found lots that makes me want to eat the skulls of my enemies – take Windows for example: You know you want to go and find the guy who decided that Windows needs to check that what you told it to do is what you really meant to tell it do, right? You also want to strap him to a stool, shine a 1000W bulb in his eyes and grind his toes into the floor with a pneumatic drill.
I’m not losing stuff and going unbalanced here am I? I’m expressing my frustration in a socially-appropriate manner? I’ve been out of touch a bit lately so I can’t tell this kind of thing so clearly any more… Anyhow – back to the funnies:
Gareth & I have started Black Square up, and we’re just a little bit fucking busy right now is why there’s been no Friday poem. I’m going to get a Coke.
OK, so I went to the fridge to get the Coke and I remembered – how could I have forgotten? The thing that’s mostly been completely fucking me off is the goddamn cats. Jeez. Us. Hands up who likes it when the cat wees in your crocs (even if you deny crocs)? Yes – it’s like a convention of people who have been strapped to a chair with a 1000W bulb shining in their eyes and are having their toes ground into the floor with a pneumatic drill. (They can’t raise their hands because their hands are strapped to the chair - yes?). They sleep in the sink, they make the most insanely ultra-mega-disgustingly smelly little craps in the kitty litter. Ugh. Anyhow – this isn’t a discussion so I’m not looking for advice or judgment on my attitude to my cats so just keep it to yourself OK? OK. So now we can move on. The kitty litter is next to the fridge so that’s why I remembered, because some hippie twat psychologist said smells prompts memory more than any of the other senses, more than even a picture from a happier time or a beautiful melody – which might be true is just so fucking boring.
And also, you might be thinking that the only reason I’m now trotting out poems that I thought of 2 months ago but didn’t get around to doing earlier is because it’s my birthday next week, but I’m just not that guy, you know. I’m just looking for friendship. And so I made a blues song, which Caitlin much admires because it’s about a guy and a girl, even if she a) doesn’t appreciate the depth of feeling and 2) doesn’t quite realize that she’s dumped him due to circumstance beyond his control/of his own doing. So, a song about thinking ‘bout my baby on a summer’s night when I can’t have her because she kicked me out because I was late:
-------------------------------------------------
Driving along on a summer’s day
Arm out the window
Radio on
Tapping my finger on the steering wheel
Off to see my baby on a summer’s day
Hitting 180 on the old highway
Policeman stopped me said – hey boy
What you try’n to prove, getting in your grove
I take you off to jail on a summer’s day
So I’m sitting in jail on a summer’s day
Thinking ‘bout my baby, what I’m gonna say
She’s gonna be real mad – hope she understands
I just couldn’t wait to see my baby-doll
Well they let me out at 7 o’clock
Made my way to my baby’s house
Knocked on the door, she opened up
Slammed it in my face and said the I’m no good
So I’m standing out by my baby’s place
Started to rain so I knocked again
Said “let me in, let me explain”
She turned out the light and sent me on my way
Driving along on a summer’s night
Arm out the window
Radio on
Tapping my finger on the steering wheel
Thinking ‘bout my baby on a summer’s night
Thinking ‘bout my baby on a summer’s night
Thinking ‘bout my baby on a summer’s night
-----------------------------------------------------------
Repeat after me: I want to be a zombie, just like,
Tom
I saw a blue crane by the side of the road
But when I got closer I saw
It wasn’t a crane
But a mangled up sign
Saying STOP or 100 or ---
--------------------------------------------------
Indeed. Here it is. I sent the last one in – um – last year? And it’s not that I’ve had nothing to complain about; as you may imagine I’ve found lots that makes me want to eat the skulls of my enemies – take Windows for example: You know you want to go and find the guy who decided that Windows needs to check that what you told it to do is what you really meant to tell it do, right? You also want to strap him to a stool, shine a 1000W bulb in his eyes and grind his toes into the floor with a pneumatic drill.
I’m not losing stuff and going unbalanced here am I? I’m expressing my frustration in a socially-appropriate manner? I’ve been out of touch a bit lately so I can’t tell this kind of thing so clearly any more… Anyhow – back to the funnies:
Gareth & I have started Black Square up, and we’re just a little bit fucking busy right now is why there’s been no Friday poem. I’m going to get a Coke.
OK, so I went to the fridge to get the Coke and I remembered – how could I have forgotten? The thing that’s mostly been completely fucking me off is the goddamn cats. Jeez. Us. Hands up who likes it when the cat wees in your crocs (even if you deny crocs)? Yes – it’s like a convention of people who have been strapped to a chair with a 1000W bulb shining in their eyes and are having their toes ground into the floor with a pneumatic drill. (They can’t raise their hands because their hands are strapped to the chair - yes?). They sleep in the sink, they make the most insanely ultra-mega-disgustingly smelly little craps in the kitty litter. Ugh. Anyhow – this isn’t a discussion so I’m not looking for advice or judgment on my attitude to my cats so just keep it to yourself OK? OK. So now we can move on. The kitty litter is next to the fridge so that’s why I remembered, because some hippie twat psychologist said smells prompts memory more than any of the other senses, more than even a picture from a happier time or a beautiful melody – which might be true is just so fucking boring.
And also, you might be thinking that the only reason I’m now trotting out poems that I thought of 2 months ago but didn’t get around to doing earlier is because it’s my birthday next week, but I’m just not that guy, you know. I’m just looking for friendship. And so I made a blues song, which Caitlin much admires because it’s about a guy and a girl, even if she a) doesn’t appreciate the depth of feeling and 2) doesn’t quite realize that she’s dumped him due to circumstance beyond his control/of his own doing. So, a song about thinking ‘bout my baby on a summer’s night when I can’t have her because she kicked me out because I was late:
-------------------------------------------------
Driving along on a summer’s day
Arm out the window
Radio on
Tapping my finger on the steering wheel
Off to see my baby on a summer’s day
Hitting 180 on the old highway
Policeman stopped me said – hey boy
What you try’n to prove, getting in your grove
I take you off to jail on a summer’s day
So I’m sitting in jail on a summer’s day
Thinking ‘bout my baby, what I’m gonna say
She’s gonna be real mad – hope she understands
I just couldn’t wait to see my baby-doll
Well they let me out at 7 o’clock
Made my way to my baby’s house
Knocked on the door, she opened up
Slammed it in my face and said the I’m no good
So I’m standing out by my baby’s place
Started to rain so I knocked again
Said “let me in, let me explain”
She turned out the light and sent me on my way
Driving along on a summer’s night
Arm out the window
Radio on
Tapping my finger on the steering wheel
Thinking ‘bout my baby on a summer’s night
Thinking ‘bout my baby on a summer’s night
Thinking ‘bout my baby on a summer’s night
-----------------------------------------------------------
Repeat after me: I want to be a zombie, just like,
Tom
fpf?+13 - Being for the benefit of Thursday night
(written 2 July 2009)
I have a royal chair
It can brush my hair
I have discovered how it is that Radiohead craft their lyrics: They play with their children, and then head off to the studio to write it all down. The lines above are verbatim Caitlin – I sit and brush her hair and she imagines that I am a royal chair. Naturally a song is needed, although as with any good song, it only needs two lines of lyrics repeated over and over and over and over.
I have a royal chair
It can brush my hair
I have discovered how it is that Radiohead craft their lyrics: They play with their children, and then head off to the studio to write it all down. The lines above are verbatim Caitlin – I sit and brush her hair and she imagines that I am a royal chair. Naturally a song is needed, although as with any good song, it only needs two lines of lyrics repeated over and over and over and over.
fpf?=14: I've got just 5 words for you: "Hello, my name is T-
(written 30 July 2009)
OK: I was in the cinema at the film festival, and it was filling up, and the guy in front of me gave up his seat for a lady. I had my hands folded and I was comfy. The movie was really great. My friend Margaret had a seat so that’s good.
OK: I was in the cinema at the film festival, and it was filling up, and the guy in front of me gave up his seat for a lady. I had my hands folded and I was comfy. The movie was really great. My friend Margaret had a seat so that’s good.