"All the stuff in our veins is the same." Guy Garvey.
Some stuff is the same.
Some stuff is only yours and makes you.
Listening to Elbows new album on the way to work. Guy Garvey is a poet.
I'm neither - not either!
"Not left, not right
Not black, not white
"Not red, not blue
Not the many, nor the few
"No, neither you
nor any other political tribe
will bribe my alliegence.
No one can expect
my adherence or compliant silence!
"I've no tribe but kin
and my kin can come in any skin
and will come and go again
this close to the rim.
"So, no -
I'll not promise to sing
from only one sheet of hymns.
I'll not sign up to this week's
"You can't assign me
based on a tick-box whim.
I'm no man's synonym.
I'm no easy pseudonym.
"My vote has never been
and never will be
ANYBODY'S easy win."
She stood at the door poised with her pen.
'Okaay... Is that an 'Undecided' then?'
Theres a lot of strong feelings out there.
on saturday morning we grace around recycled rustic tables, lowering our heads over gluten free brown toast topped with gently scrambled free range eggs, adding soya milk to decaffeinated, ethically sourced coffee, self contained in guilt free reusable cups -
and still we fret.
Saturday scene in West London
Reputation - what they think they see
Character - what you prove to be
Image - what is seen from afar
Substance - what you truely are
The difference is what makes a man
a sure and steadfast gentleman
Built from a line from a movie
What's up, Xavi?
What do you see?
Where're you going
when you're running past me?
Why're you so happy?
Why the big grin?
Why don't you care
when your brothers crash in?
What's it you're seeing
when you're flat on your back?
Why're you relaxed
when your head gets a crack?
It's cos that deep down
you know that you're loved
by billy goat brothers
who love with a shove!
Xavi is 2. He has three big brothers...
She opened the window above his bed
(How else will his spirit rise?)
I could have said
that his is a spirit that defies convention -
domestic or foreign -
his spirit would not wait for our permission.
But instead I smiled
at the February chill and the gas bill
that would have made my dad shudder.
Memories of February 2000.
I spent my day breathing life into my memories.
I often walk or sit with them.
I give them the attention they ask for
to maintain their roots.
I administer the moisture they desire
to retain their colour
I know they aren't what they used to be
but they grow with me
and give me hope for more
and more to live for.
I spent my day with my memories.
Time with memories is fruitful.