#brighton
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Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 12:11 AM UTC
As I walked down Brighton Pier
Bathed in summer light
Munching on a candy floss
Squinting in the bright
I saw a fortune teller's sign
Lurking in the gloom
Signposting 'Madam Lucky Rose'
Dealing tarot in a room.
The gaudy gypsy painting
Lured this wanderer in
And as I ventured nearer
I caught the tang of gin.
"Hallo there" came a cracking voice
"Come in" I heard a shout
So I entered through a curtain made
To keep bluebottles out.
Twenty pounds she wanted,
To tell me of my fate,
I felt just like the Thane Macbeth,
But Jim not Banquo was my mate.
Hubble bubble, toil and trouble,
I expected her to say,
But she was busy with her visa machine,
And she wanted me to pay.
We placed our bums on old oil drums,
She'd covered in velour,
And she'd tacked a piece of curtain up,
To form a make shift door.
With trembling hands she took mine,
And looked into my eyes,
Her eyes were rimmed with charcoal grey,
And I expected fraud and lies.
She told me of my future,
She told me of my past,
She told me I'd get married and
That it would never last.
She draped around my shoulders
A cloak of purple hue,
And whispered of a new career as fortune tellers do,
"The curse is broken!" she exclaimed
I strained with all my will,
But she left me there that summer day,
And in Brighton I lurk still.
Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 3:52 AM UTC
A B&B in Brighton
It’s only 30 quid
We turn up at reception,
We wonder why we did
The place is dark and dismal
The lobby stinks of death
The owner nearly knocks us out
With her stinking breath
We have to share a bathroom
With Deirdre & Stan
**** stains on the toilet seat
Skid marks in the pan
The room is small & pokey
There is a smell of damp
The TV is about the size
Of a 1st class postage stamp
The landlord smells of cigarettes
His wife smells of B.O.
The whole place smells of fry-ups
We just can’t wait to go
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 6:07 AM UTC
the rain's melting glass
moulding our views
and moving intentions
to rooms where it started
in grey skies and days
gripping tightly as tea melts between
afternoon darkness
the city at evening
turned pines into curtains
drifting on branches
and in sudden still we walked out between them
in tunnels so soft words can't escape we
shook them together
the snow freezing down
between coatings inside the stitched cotton
we're both waiting there as cars drive below
the rain's melting glass
and scatters through streets
and cracks in the frame
are beginning to show
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
There is traffic
on the street below
our hotel window.
You are lying
on the bed
naked
and arms spread wide
in invitation.
The is no shade
on the one light
above the double bed
and the curtains
of shabby red
are drawn closed.
I undress slow
and uncertain.
I wonder what
your old man
must be thinking
you at some recital
of piano and violin
then to spend the night
with a friend.
Undressed
I walk to the bed
and climb in
and you draw the covers
over us
and we snuggle down.
The recital was lame
and the pianist
some old dear
had knotted knuckles.
You said nothing
about your old man
nor what he thought
or cared.
You arranged me
into position
and set me off.
There was laughter
from the street below
from drunken revellers
on their way home
or to another bar
or club.
Game set and won
we lay on our backs
hearing nearby
a gentle hum.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 9:42 AM UTC
That young guy in the doorway
of a Brighton street;
long hair, bearded,
nothing on his feet.
Peace to you, he said,
have a good day. He smiled
and had something in his gaze,
something beyond the usual ones
one gets from down and outs
on streets or roads
of major towns or cities.
Guess Christ could have sat there
in some doorway, long hair
and bearded nothing on his feet,
on that and almost any street.
You never know who it could be
sitting in a doorway bearded
with long hair and nothing on their feet.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 3:45 PM UTC
Feet floating six inches above the ground
A glockenspiel chorus of radiant talking
Have stumbled upon something I thought I had found
Under an emerald sky we are walking
A glockenspiel chorus of radiant talking
I am almost too awestruck to peer at the stars
Under an emerald sky we are walking
We love all of life, stretching off beyond Mars
I am almost too awestruck to peer at the stars
I know that this feeling can not last forever
We love all of life, stretching off beyond Mars
This memory, these people I promise I’ll treasure
I know that this feeling can not last forever
Have stumbled upon something I thought I had found
This memory, these people I promise I’ll treasure
Feet floating six inches above the ground
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 7:54 AM UTC
When I saw you and our eyes met,
Something sort of sparked,
You had me lost, captivated,
Our talking didn't stop,
You took my hand and showed me,
The world in another light,
Held me on the beach,
To keep me warm that night.
The night was over way to fast,
I wish it never stopped,
I lost my heart on Brighton beach,
It's a stone there being washed.
I took a train to see you,
And you made time for me,
I fell for you deeper and you told me you loved me,
My stomach did somersaults,
My heart could of stopped,
You actually took my breath away as you tied my throat in knots.
The magic didn't last though,
Off course it never does,
If you believe in fairy tales,
You're in for a shock.
I saw the way he looked at me,
He passed it into her,
His time for me grew smaller and I knew it was lost.
I asked what was happening,
He lied for a week,
Too coward to break the heart of a girl like me.
He told me I was crazy,
I made the whole thing up,
All the while that ***** was gargling on his ****
I hope to never fall in love,
For my soul mate I've lost,
I don't want to be ripped up again,
For paper I am not.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC