Poetry - July 2005

Gone In Sixty Seconds

On the number thirty bus you go
Commuting into the inner London sanctum
You suddenly see someone fiddling in a bag
And your suspicions are aroused
You decide to leave the bus quickly
And as the corner is turned an explosion is heard
Your instincts may have saved your own skin
But you know there aren't as many lucky as you
You can see the roof of the bus ripped right off
Passengers at the front seem to have escaped
That doesn't matter though when all you can see
Is blood, flesh and bones scattered everywhere
Just a minute ago it was a normal working day
Now this day will be etched forever in memory
The day you escaped and cheated death
You could have been gone in sixty seconds.

(Self-explanatory, but one witness got off just before one of the bombs occurred in London last Thursday, so I wrote it from that perspective.)

Friday Night's Alright For Ra-Ra

I walk through the city streets
On my way homeward bound
From a good night out
Where conversation and drinks flowed
I'd never get myself completely wrecked
But I have to wonder at those who do
The wind is coming now and blowing
And you can see female hands wandering
As they have the shortest ra-ra skirt ever
The wind is revealing what they have on underneath
(If they have anything on, of course)
And yet they try so hard to cover up
Well if that's the case why not dress sensibly?
Feminine is sexy after all
But wearing next to nothing just begging for sex
Just doesn't appeal for a lot of us.

(You all have seen the type I mean, and it just looks so unattractive. Even more if they smoke, too.)

From Past To Present

When I was little I used to go to North Wales
Usually finding myself in Llandudno during the week
Wandering along the beach and down the pier
And then ascending the mountainous Great Orme
Every year without fail we'd end up there
And every year we'd have ice cream on the top
Only now I've aged, and this is the present
I went back to see what the appeal was
The town looks tidy enough these days
The beach looks relaxing, but the sea not too clean
And the pier has endless amusements
Designed to take all your money
But thankfully in the wake of tourism
There's all the quirks that made the place
And as I sit atop the Orme playing crazy golf
With the wind blowing in my face and hair
I look around and view the tranquility
Despite the very busy day
And know that from past to present not much has changed
Apart from the clientele.

(Based on a recent day trip out to reminisce about my childhood)

The Wish Of My Twisted Mind

I wish for all criminals to be humiliated in public
So that they'd be embarrassed at the crimes they've done
Made to wear a clown mask and dance to S Club Seven
Would be totally upsetting for anyone.

(Say no more.)

Manchester Buccaneers

Owned by USA
Manchester Buccaneers now
And not the team they were.

(A short little haiku about some idiotic Glazer bloke.)