Poetry - September 2016

They're All Back

Looking for the nearest offer
Succumbing to all temptation
It's the annual start of term
And the mass student migration
From one town to another
As their studies all start
Trying to locate their way
And hoping they don't fall apart
There's so much information
That has to be taken in
Which buildings to locate
What pubs are best to venture in
It's an annual cycle of madness
As everyone runs around
It seems rather odd this year
That I won't be being around
All of the fun and games
That comes when they're back
Instead I've gone a different way
Where there's no way back.

(Odd as it may sound, I am missing the time of year when everyone starts and it's all about meeting new people and welcoming back old ones. I suppose fifteen plus years of it made me feel that way.)

Market Street Island

I'm used to rain in Manchester
It happens quite a bit of the time
But never have I seen it so bad
As the thunderstorms which were sublime
The dark clouds dropped so much rain
The drainage just couldn't cope
Outside Debenhams all you could see
Was the tram platform's upper slope
It was an island in the middle
Of a flooded central Market Street
That's never been so bad before
And it wasn't looking so neat
All the railway bridges with dipped roads
Were their own ponds of deep
And the thunder strikes throughout
Made it so difficult to sleep
But the iconic image of the island
In the city centre that night
Made me realise that the weather is worse
And global warming is the truth and the light.

(Get used to freak weather, the broadcasters always seem to say. They were not kidding...)

Seluk's Stain

Some football agents are pure trash
And don't know what they're doing
Just wanting money for themselves
And screw what the club might be saying
One such agent is Dimitri Seluk
Who represents Yaya Touré
He seems to have seen his backside
Over what Pep Guardiola has to say
Seluk thinks he's more important
Than the club that Yaya plays for
But at last someone has taken a stand
So thet Seluk can be shown the door
His comments are just a stain
On the club that his player represents
It makes you wonder if indeed that was
The cause of dressing room influence
Either way it's dealt with properly
And that if Yaya has to leave
We'll all throw Seluk some birthday cake in his face
And prove who we really believe.

(We always knew Yaya Touré's agent Dimitri Seluk was an idiot. His recent outbursts show that he just is about one thing - himself. If Yaya had any sense whatsoever, he'd have dumped him years ago.)

Kicking It Old School

Whenver I like
I can go back and be retro
With my Atari 2600
And its cartridges on show
With lots of blocky graphics
But the games were so much fun
The sound effects were killer
And you had to use imagination
I still remember to this day
Clocking the score on Pac Man
And being able to use bendy bullets
On Space Invaders, I was the man
Then came my Commodore Plus/4
Where Udo Gertz was the king
Any game he made was brilliant
He made Winter Events awesome looking
I went to a Commodore 64
And never looked back after that
That machine still has a hold on me now
With the special SID sound that's so phat
I just really enjoyed the games
That had so much playability
Compared to the likes of now
Where there's obsession with being pretty
But no so much in terms of focus
On if the game plays so well
Whenever I kick it old school
It feels just as inspiring to tell
How that got me into coding
And programming music for games
It was a life saver at the time
And still today the beige box reigns
Now I have all three machines
They all take pride of place
The just one more go factor exists
So who's for Wizball then, it's ace!

(Ah, whatever you think of Dara O'Briain's Go 8 Bit show, it's not quite the same as going properly 8-bit really..)

Lonesome Haiku

Missing my love, lots
Wishing I was with her now
Giving her a hug.

(And I really do mean that..)