A muddy fucking hill. Falklands Three The hill. Just up the hill. Need it. Right flank Cover for centre. Ghurka’s on our Left flank, That’s good They’re good. Then advance Fast and hard Bound. Don’t take A round. Fix bayonets Shit That means close. Please no mines! Please no mines! Rounds buzzing And cracking. Fucking hell Mate.
» Read moreFace Down. Falklands Four. I saw him face down in the dirt We turned him over softly Almost covertly. Three small holes All we could see. Sightless eyes Looking at me. Farewell my brother We’ll always love you. We’ll carry you gently And lay you to rest That awful black bag Does you no justice For the times you
» Read moreA visit to Vancouver BC. 24 Hours of Love. Ive often wandered if I’ve kissed The serial killer in our midst. I was on a bit of a sailing manoeuvre Across in rainy dank Vancouver Her name was Mona, Mona Bird Yes lemon curds the rhymah. And her mothers name was Mynah. Occasionally worried about the strife
» Read moreTo be somebody. You have to be somebody else. Not an imitation. Or intimation. You have to be somebody else. On a hill. Over looking a place. Somewhere nowhere. White. Smoke. Cloud. Candle. Some larger remains. Blown in breeze. The only chance of escape. Souls on a southerly. Inside. Nothing more than a. Pit. At 44 °C. Death will occur.
» Read moreCheck the bolt Falklands Two. Check the bolt For action Hands slip and slide Mud and sweat Sweat and mud “Alright mate” “Aye” “Alright mate” “Aye” “We’ll be alright” “Aye” Said a thousand times a thousand times “Alright mate” “Aye” Check the bayonet Check the bolt Check the mag. Fucking hands Shake And sweat Fucking hands Shake “Alright
» Read moreAh’ Chris mate. 8th June 1982. Falklands One Ah’ Chris mate, What a fate, We’d laughed and cavorted Before the fun. I’d had sex In Pompey And lots of rum. It’d take a lot To make us run. You in your engine room Me in mine. All seemed well All seemed fine. Your ship Was knightly Mine was
» Read moreI was brought up on a housing estate, eventually I escaped into words. My life changed when I was in a pub and met a girl who was ay Uni doing Lit who I shared speed with as we listened to a band, then we went back to hers and had sex. She was showering and laid beside the bed
» Read moreI wanted to see the Bronx in 1980. Music, atmosphere, truth, bathe in more reality. New York New York 1980 Leaving the noise of yellow cabs Touting for business In poisonous fume filled ghetto Egyptian American driver “Here”? “But not here” They say and stare “Not here. Idiot”. “Not here man”. Stumbling life blind Through the mists And
» Read moreOne of many trips to South and Latin America. Where I always sought out the “real” sometimes abstract, and attempted to be part of it as opposed to gawker. The YouTube links are because I love them and they tell a story I feel. Also I wish I could have met and fallen in love with Lotte Lenya in 1933
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