Poetry - May 2014

Fuzzy Feeling

Twenty five years ago
Four girls from Birmingham
Went from punk to slick pop
And they just had lots of fun
They released a song in May
That was the soundtrack for me
To my whole Summer long
Grinning happily with glee
I couldn't resist playing it lots
It just had a happy vibe
And when you saw them on telly
They were just fun and alive
Everyone had their favourite
Who they most wanted to adore
But that was the beauty of them all
They were just all friends, the four
Their song was Pink Sunshine
And the Summer was made for me
All this time on it still sounds so fun
What joyous pop sounds to me.

(Sometimes joyous pop songs are as nice to listen to as the likes of The Smiths, New Order and Pixies. Fuzzbox's "Pink Sunshine" was a case in point. The soundtrack to my Summer 1989. Much fuzz to Tina, Maggie, Victoria (Vix) and the very sadly missed Jo)

Wanting

You look at her across the train
The carriage seems full in full flow
All you can see is the lady across
As she stares out of the window
Wondering where she will go
And if it will be, as you, the same place
You just want to be sat with her
But don't want to invade her space
There's a case of so near and yet so far
As you wistfully look out of the window
Thinking that you'd love to take her out
Wanting to find more about her, you know
The thought exits your mind for a second
But she glances across the train
But alas you're not looking at her
Out of the window in the pouring rain
As the journey comes to its end
You wonder how much you want her
To at least ask her out for a drink
And find out more about her
It's all those thoughts as you arrive
And head off the door of the train
Then there's a voice calling you
It's her, asking what is your name...

(With so many people posting messages to the free Metro newspaper's column where people see other people on public transport (aka Rush Hour Crush) I can see what the attraction is in a strange way)

Me Me Me Me

Everything is selfish
It's all got to be about me
No one else matters here
As long as it's just me
I just want to have it all
And don't care how
I'll do whatever it takes
To get the best for me now
This is what you hear
So many people say
And it just makes you think
Self-centred idiot, go away
I don't want to know you
You're not the sort I want to know
It's all me me me me
And that's why you've got to go.

(Are we becoming that way inclined about being self-obsessed? I personally don't like it and would much rather know people who aren't like that.)

I Can, But I Can't

I can navigate the London Underground
But I can't drive to save my life
I can sing a song with heart and passion
But I can't play an instrument sadly
I can write a technical document
But I can't write an email with a mental block
I can find a bargain piece of vinyl
But I can't get that gig ticket I want
I can run a ten kilometre road race
But I can't get to the marathon distance
I can fantasise over meeting my idols
But I can't see it happening in reality
I can book myself a cheap train
But I can't seem to find the hotel to match
I can fall in love with a beautiful woman
But I can't work out just how I managed it.

(Parts of my whole life are this type of paradox.)

Trash

So much of what's out there is trash
It makes the TV screen be a car crash
The lack of originality plain to see
There is just no talent on the screen
It's all about the reality now
Where people strive for and people vow
That one day they'll get their moment of fame
And if they don't everyone else is to blame
Is it really a case of people being so rash
That they want to be just buying into the trash
Of their so called emotional journey
Where they eventually end up on prime time TV
Showing themselves up for how bad they are
Not having to do the hard work to get very far
Putting all the really hard working ones out of their job
Acting on a reality TV show, with their loud gob.

(Too easy to get the fifteen minutes of fame now. I'd rather see people work a lot harder to achieve what they should and not just assume that they are the best thing ever, even if they're not, row with a reality judge and be plastered all over the television..)