They're all going to Festwich!
a festival in Prestwich
some bands are rather kitsch
with anticipation the air is rich
Half a mile from my abode
it's only down the road
rock bands set to explode
The chopper's in the sky
fireworks set to fly
i'm not going, why?
It was sold out months ago
my reactions were too slow
I'm now feeling the blow
They're walking past my window
dressed down with a place to go
to a rock n roll tribute show
Rock chicks, metal heads and loons
bands playing my favourite tunes
sporting Led Zep's runes
It's happening all so near
I need something to bring me cheer
I'm crying into my beer
They're all going to Festwich!
I'm going to build my own mosh pit
in my garden where i sit
where i'll stay 'til it's moonlit
Rock n Roll baby!
With Swollen Tears did my Countrymen commit
In week's Soliloquy request for Aid
And Soul's own Moments whose Sympathy permit
Whilst Sheltered Families pray for more space
Pledge, dear Lord! And Citisens of the World
My People's Wounds soaked in Unwanted Rain
At least in Voice and Gift-Wishes unfold
Would indeed suffice to soften their Pain
Look, Union Jack! The Scenes of Caskets float,
Plastered houses a-washed with nails and wood
Then came the Bayanis, in rubbers and boats
Bore frozen Victims to their Neighbourhood.
It's a Sad Film for anyone to see
Please offer Burnt Roses; Make them Happy.
remember when we were carefree
and nothing used to worry me
the neighbourhood was my kingdom
and the front yard was my palace
we used to play pretend
worlds of magic and fantasy
we made up spells and slayed dragons
but now i’m fighting my mind’s demons
ignorance was b l i s s
when did we become like this?
Be it Song, or Bile, or Predicament
The Way you carry your Fortunes are Good
Try to Lend some Hands; Then you would relent
How many you missed in your Neighbourhood
Photos alone do not Memories make;
Nor Lone Medals hung to promote your Fame
But that - within YOU - which Dad has long-taught
Was always the Nature etched on your Name
And the Name that Was, Is, and Forevermore
Beyond the Skin tattooed with Thoughts demure
He is the HERO; Real, and to the Core,
Promises Divine in Friendship so Pure.
You are more than you know. And always has been
That Light from the Sun is dug from Within.
Hot summer nights
Older neighbourhood in a high prairie town
They start to come out on the steps
Concrete stairs 6 to 10 risers high
No AC in these places
Cooler outside for mothers and babes
Young men gather on the corners for smokes
All TVs are cranked inside with the same game on
Talk turns to the blue moon to come
Time passes slower on these evenings
The week is over and the older homes look as tired as the people tonight
Stoop sitting is the backyard in these places
This is what makes a nieghbourhood different from the burbs
Glowing Windows embedded into mouldy brick walls
Ivy climbing the gutters of neighbourhood roofs
Skies becoming burnt out like charred blackened fields
Tall spiny trees project shadows onto the road below
Leaves curl up to receive some weakening light from above
A formation of sputtering cars cling to each turn they decide to make
Cloudy milky light bounces off faulty windows that exhale the aroma of somebodies impending supper
A heavy truck manoeuvres itself into the blistered bitumen horizon
Dry deflated branches make obscene gestures towards passers-by
Gardeners rummage through their bags as they near the end of their working day
Their faces filled with an expired enthusiasm for breathing
Parked hunks of metal pelted with dead itchy leaves
Windscreen wipers hold fragile twigs down against grotty neglected glass
Chain-link fences link disparate housing and the sleeping people within
Some dispirited unsatisfied psychos gaze up as they catch a moving bus
Smoky Incense billows down from some apartment balcony
The air becomes cold and sharply fills these ordinary streets
Engine sounds try to supress the divine quietness
They only merge into it
Now the stars are out and about
Bright specks waddling in an aerial pool of dark blue
You turn the key and walk through the front door
Hopefully you enjoy this, I'm kinda strange about sharing what I write and I get rather shy but yeah enjoy, I'll stop talking now
When our story's over
The last chapter and final page
We'll look back and will remember
Those happy and glory days.
We were young and filled with laughter
Living wild and fancy free
Not a care nor thought
Of what would ever come to be.
We now have grown much wiser
Still we have our past regrets
But that's what we call learning
Lessons we will not forget.
But now we are contented
We live our lives with ease
Here within our neighbourhood
Surrounded by the trees.
Now we move a little slower
Our health it is a bind
Then we are not complaining
For we had those happy times.
We intend to be around a long time.
But with age comes limitations
Looking at old photographs
We were young and fancy free.