I was at a funeral recently
A work colleague's father had passed away
It was a lovely ceremony
There was a lady in the choir who sang beautifully
All the lovely hymns
And then she did this wonderful rendition of 'Danny Boy'
Jeez! I could feel myself welling up
And I didn't even know the guy... the deceased
And then suddenly amidst all this sadness and celebration of his life
Suddenly this funny thought it just pops into my head
It says "Y'know when you die, at the funeral you should get the priest to do the reading
Of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead
A wonderful story
Lazarus's relatives come to Jesus and implore him to come and heal Lazarus who is sick
But by the time they get to his house they find he's been dead for a couple of days
But this news doesn't deter Jesus
He tells them to roll away the stone of the tomb
The tomb keepers protest"But he'll smell, he'll stink!"
But Jesus persists "Roll away the stone " he commands
So finally they agree and roll away the stone
Then Jesus cries "Come forth Lazarus, come out of the tomb"
If this was being read at my funeral
It'd creep out the whole congregation
When the priest would say "Come forth Lazarus, come out of the tomb"
They'd all start looking nervously over at the coffin
And maybe suddenly there'd be this sound of wood giving way
And then the coffin lid would slide off
And a hand would appear on the side of the coffin
And then I'd sit bolt upright in the coffin like a lovely little Count Dracula
I'd have a big smile on my face
And I'd say to them all
"Hi everybody, it's OK
I'm back for another round".

The sea laments while the hooded
    moon he harrows
Harrows the countless unknown
    graves of men
Who fell among stormy seas,
Men who today are remembered still
By tall stories
Told in their honour to bedtime
    children
Before they journey out to sleep
Into the wide realms of imagery,
    colourful and wild,
Breathing shadows onto a night of
    deserted streets
Drenched black slates and steeples.

One afternoon in the kitchen listening to some of my favourite old songs from my Punk Rock days
The *** Pistols God Save the Queen, Pretty Vacant, Did you no Wrong and Silly Thing
Then I started listening to The ******'s New Rose, a great riff and then Neat Neat Neat
Neat Neat Neat doesn't have as good a riff but it has this mad guitar piece in the middle where it just goes crazy...wild!!!
At this stage I just had to get it out, yea! I had to get out my air guitar
I'm a virtuoso Air Guitar player, if there was an Air Guitar contest I'd win easily
So I get my Air Guitar out and suddenly I'm whizzing around the kitchen
I'm doin' a Wilko, a Wilko Johnson (RIP Wilko)
I'm flying around goin' crazy with the music
Now I'm wearing these casual Work Pants that I like to wear
And they have pockets everywhere, and they also have funny hooks and loops coming out of them, I never knew what they were for
(Probably for hanging tools)
As I'm flying round the kitchen doesn't one of the loops from my pants get caught in one of the cupboard door knobs
And suddenly there's this Big tug and an awful Wwwrench!!! Noise
I stop and wonder what the **** was that...I look
The door of the cupboard's been ripped off its hinges
****! I say to myself...Ssshit!
I'm after tearing one of the cupboard doors off
Then I stop and wonder for a moment and slowly a smile creeps over my face
"Wait a minute", I think to myself
 Now that... that's Punk Rock!".

He died... died on a dung hill, on a
   manure heap
A little kitten, a lovely.... the cutest
   little thing
Just appeared one day, one cold
   Winter's morning
At the bottom of our back garden
Appeared out of nowhere so it
   seemed, just sitting there
I seen him out the kitchen window,
The other two bigger cats we had
They seen him too
They went up to him immediately
They hissed and spat at him
Hit him a few times with their paws
It was like they were saying:
"You're not wanted here, this is our domain, our territory, Keep out! Keep
  away!
But he just sat there, taking it all
Not even trying to defend himself.
Now I didn't want another cat, we had
   two already
I was only young, a boy, had no job,
   no money
We were just feeding them, feeding
    them on scraps,
But you just couldn't help feeling
   sorry for him
Sitting out there in the cold,
   unwanted and unloved
My young boy's heart, it went out to
   him
Eventually I took him out some milk
   and some food
I petted him on the head
In a strange way he reminded me a
   bit of myself
" Seems like the whole world is
   against you too, little fella" I said
But his little head, it remained
   bowed, his eyes closed, looking in
       on himself,
I left him there,
Of the milk he never touched a drop
And the food, never even looked at it
He just sat there so still and so quiet,
When I went out a little while later
I found him, his little body all stiff
   and cold...frozen in the cold
"This isn't a world for little things", I
   thought,
" there are no miracles here, no
    fairytales.....
And there ain't no happy endings
   either
(They lied to us)".
I buried him.
I think I buried a part of myself as
   well that day.

I dreamt I awoke...in Woking...in England
"Woking", I thought, "you gotta be joking!
What was I doing, doin' here in Woking"
I felt like Dr. Who stepping out of the TARDIS
And all the people there they were all looking, they were all staring at me
It was like the whole world was gaping
As if...as if there was something to see
I wondered 'Had my mask fallen and was what they were now seeing, was it something appalling
Could they see the real me ?'
So I started running...runnin' 'cos I thought they were all gunning
Gunnin' out to get me

And I met this policeman, this burly constable
And I said to him "I didn't want to awaken in Woking at all
I just wanted to get back home"
He replied "The last train out of Woking had just gone"
So I ran on
And it started raining... raining and I was soaking... soakin'
Soakin' in Woking
Then I met this sweet little London gal
She said "Cor Blimey where you goin'"
I told her I didn't know...
I told her "Here in Woking I felt like I was choking, that all the walls they were closing in"
I said I'd just been dreaming...dreamin'
But what was the meaning... the meaning
And why had they put me here in Woking
What... what was the reason ?"

"Have you been drinking Love?" she said
"No!" I replied indignantly, "I haven't been drinking, I was just sleeping...sleepin'
But hadn't expected to awaken, to awaken here in Woking
I opened up to her a bit then,  I said "Though I was getting older I was... I was always still hoping
But then suddenly I woke up and found myself here, here in Woking
What was it all about ?"
"You poor darling " she said
(For a moment Woking didn't seem so bad after all)
Then she reached into her purse and brought forth some coppers and offered them to me
I said "No! No! You don't understand... you don't understand...

I awakened from Woking a little after the morning had broken
Still in one piece and still with all my secrets  intact
But sadly
Without any meaning nor any reason.

It was like a perfect storm
All the ingredients were there
It was like all the pieces had fallen into place
Taylor Swift was coming to Dublin for some gigs
My niece was a big fan of hers
I was a bit of a fan myself, she had some great songs and videos
She had just put out a new album and it was called
"The Tortured Poets Department"
Now I'd once written a funny poem (Electric funeral) and mentioned Taylor in it.

So my niece comes down to visit
And she asks "What have you been up to Uncle, I haven't seen you in awhile ?"
I looked at her a bit weirdly and then said real mysterious like
"It happened !"
"What happened ?" she asks a bit concerned,
"Taylor Swift happened".
"What! You mean you were at the concerts".
"Well, not quite... kind of".
"What do you mean ?"
So I explain "I once wrote this funny poem and Taylor Swift was in it, I posted it online
It has a lot of views"
Then I say "She must have read my poem and then read my other poems. Y'know she has a new album out, you know what she's called it ?"
"Yes! she replies "it's called... isn't it called The Tortured Poets Department"
"You see!" I say as if it's self evident, "my poems they inspired her new album. So of course when she came to Dublin she wanted to meet me...  I was summoned... to go up and see her backstage
I was ushered into her presence
She had this lovely friendly welcoming smile just for me
And I could feel straightaway there was this... this chemistry, this spark there between the two of us
So I said to her "Careful now Taylor, if you ever fell in love with me girl
You'd start writing even better songs".

Farting Frank used ****
   rather furtively
A real Frank-furter Farter
    was he.

But mellifluous Maeve
   she'd **** loudly all day
She couldn't care less
   what came out of her derriere.

One Friday evening working from home I was tired
I hadn't been sleeping too well of late
So I said I'm going to finish up now and go to bed for a few hours, get some rest
So, I get a few hours sleep and then I awake at about half eleven/ twelve a clock, around midnight
I get myself something to eat, then I start watching some movie
When the movie's over I say I better go off to bed again, maybe read for awhile
It's well after two  
So I unplug all the plugs, brush my teeth, turn off all the lights
Then I remember there's a small window, a high up window out front that needs to be closed, I always leave it open to air the room
So I go out to the front porch to close the window
Now there's a hotel across the road from me, it holds dances and weddings and other functions on Fridays and Saturdays
Sometimes late at night you can hear voices and laughter on the road
So when I go out to my porch to close the window I suddenly stop dead in my tracks
There's a shadowy figure walking around at the front of my house
A prowler
I can see him walking up to my garage door to see if it's open
Luckily I have it tied...it's closed
Then he walks over to the other side of the house, there's a side door there
He tries the side door but it too is locked, so he can't get around the back of the house
So he starts going back and forth across the front of the house, it's almost like as if he's trying to think of another way of breaking in
And I'm just...I'm just standing there watching him, in the dark, betwixt the shadows and the moonlight
Just a face in the dark...like a disembodied face staring back at him, watching him
Y'know there's nothing more creepy than watching someone trying to find a way to break into your own house
Now I'm a bit concerned 'cos my car is parked at the front of the house
I'd left it out 'cos I needed to go somewhere the next day
I'm afraid he might start interfering with my car
In which case I know I'll have to intervene, I'll have to confront him
Tell him to '**** off'
Suddenly as he's going back and forth, suddenly just then he stops and I'll never forget it
His head it just turns real real slow like, almost unnatural
And he looks in the window... looks in directly at me, it's like he's seen me for the first time
And it's like he can hardly believe it
He moves a step forward just to make sure
Then it's like...it's like he realises he's been caught
Whereas he thought he was looking into some dark dead looking house
Suddenly now there's...there's this face looking right back at him...watching him
As if its reading his thoughts...as if...as if it already knows his thoughts.

And I'm half afraid, 'cos it's like I've been discovered too

Thankfully...thankfully he takes off.

This isn't a poem at all, I mean
  seriously,
There is no poem to be viewed here,  
If I was the police I'd be waving you
  on saying
"Please move on, there's nothing to be
  seen here,
No! there are no poems in this
  vicinity,
I'd be holding up a sign "No Poem here, please go elsewhere to view a
  real poem",
But I bet some of you out there are
  nodding your heads thinking
"Hey! This is something different, this
  is really good,  yea! really clever
He's saying there's no poem here
It's a poem about No poems
A poem saying it's not a poem when
  really it is a poem"

But it's not a poem, it's not!!! (the
  author)

But they'd retort "Yea! A poem going
  thru an existential crisis,
A poem that doesn't believe it's a
  poem
A 'ghost' poem, a haunted poem
The poem that never was
Like a ghost ship floating thru
  the mist
Brilliant! I see what you're doing
  here
Man, that's genius, High Art,
This could be the best ****** poem
  you've  ever written!"

But it's not a poem, it's not! It's a
  mistake, an error (the author again)
I was just amending an older poem trying to make it look better on the
  page
When the Site saved it as a new poem
But it wasn't a new poem, it was an
  old poem
So I went in and deleted all the text
  hoping it would delete the poem
It deleted the text of the poem but gave the poem a title called "Untitled",
And then people went in to view the
  poem entitled "Untitled"
And they found nothing there
And then they got onto me informing me that my poem called "Untitled"
Wasn't showing up on my page
And they thought the Site was acting up.
So I had to write this explaining how
  this wasn't a poem at all
But now you probably think  
  it is a poem
You'll be thinking, "Sure when it comes to Poetry anything goes
It's like Shakespeare, "to be or not to
  be
Poem or no Poem, that is the
  question"
The Ying... or the Yang.
But it's not a poem, it's not !!!
But then I bet I'll hear
" O yes it is, don't be modest now
What a great poem!!!
No, it's not! "Yes, it is!"
No! "Yes!" No! "Yes!"
You just can't win can you???

My life, it's like a Night Garden
The flowers all folded up
Grown cold and deathly looking in the pale moonlight.

Me! I've just been dreaming... dreaming of the sun
And all the colours like in a painting
How they'd run

How they'd light me up inside, from within
And how I'd smile, just like I smiled back then.

I've just been thinking, thinking of the fun...all the old fun
And dreaming... dreaming of the sun.

(I've just been sitting here in my Night Garden just sitting here waiting... waiting for the ghosts to come).

Asia was a word that came one Summer as a child
While looking at a huge map of the World spread out in all these amazing colours
And then
Then someone said ...someone said the word Asia... Asia
Was like an enchantment, a magic spell...Asia !

And there was a book of flags
Again so many wonderful colours  
And all these magical sounding names
Arabia, Morocco, Syria, Egypt.....
You'd go off to sleep with lovely turquoise blues and crescent moons dancing around in your head
And the smell of the lilacs in the vase in the window
The world it was so magical, it was so enchanting.

And in our books there were stories of Japan and Genghis Khan... of the Picts in Scotland... and the Romans
And the Great Wall of China...

                        2

Asia was a girl that came smiling one Summer long ago
Out of a book with pictures
A Persian princess, she came in a caravan from the East
Smiling and giggling to herself
Like a mischievous little kitten
In the mirror of her face I saw my own
"My world is fun", she seemed to be saying, "and I want you to come, come and be my Prince, my Prince Charming"
She seemed to be reaching out to me as if for to dance
And with her lovely rosy lips that wanted to kiss mine.

                              3

Asia was a light wind that blew through empty Summer rooms
With the sunbeams coming in through the white lace curtains
And a lonely kid just wandering there
A small boy perplexed.... not knowing
In a world that said it knew
Told to be quiet, that you were small...that you were stupid
Struggling between the beauty and the ugliness of it all.

One day the Queen of Ireland was sitting on her throne
She had her very stylish professional business suit on
She had her hair neatly coiffured
On her lap she had a Chromebook computer
which she was avidly looking at
And strangely, she was crying, yea! she was sobbing to herself
Her Top Aide seen her and immediately rushed over  
"Your Majesty, what's the matter ?" he inquired
But she couldn't answer him such was her distress
"Is it the state of the world" he asked, "is it...is it the climate crisis or the... the Brexit (the UK leaving the EU European Union), what!!!"
The Queen looked at him almost pleadingly and then finally she blubbed
"No! It's.... it's Bardo, he's written another poem"
"Bardo! " replied the Aide a little exasperated, "Not him again. You can't be getting upset your Majesty every time he writes a poem"
The Queen went on dreamily "What a beautiful heart but what a tortured soul"
She then looked at her Aide in a strict kind of way and said "It's no good, I've got to meet him, I've got to know him"
Her Aide cautioned against it, he said "Your Majesty shouldn't lower herself to seeking out some obscure poet guy, sure poets are two a penny in this country"
This angered the Queen, she stamped her foot and then said forcefully
"I'm the Queen of this country and he is one of my subjects in My Kingdom
I have a right, I have the authority"
So, so she issued a proclamation/ decree
In every parish in Ireland posters were put up seeking the identity and whereabouts of the poet Bardo.

Suddenly a lot of Bardos started popping up all over the place
Yea, lots of people were coming forward claiming to be Bardo
It was said in one County a strange man wearing a mask and riding a horse, with a sword dangling by his side came forward
He said "Are you looking for Zardo ?"
'No!' he was told "we're looking for Bardo"
"Oh!" he said and went off disappointedly.

The Queen knew these people they couldn't all be Bardo
So she used set them a test
"If you're Bardo", she'd say, "then recite to me a new Bardo poem, yes! A brand new poem"
This invariably would throw them all off
Suddenly they'd start getting nervous and unsure of themselves
"So you... you want a new Bardo poem"
Yes! would reply the Queen, you must have some newer poems or bits of poems
So one of the Bardos would begin rather shakily "Mmmm... Aaah... then they'd start to recite
"The Sweetness that was, it is no more
It's... it's flown out the feckin' door "
The Queen could tell straightaway "You're not Bardo "
Another of the Bardos began "The sadness it never ceases, it's a ceaseless sadness/ It's not a gladness, it's.. it's more of a badness.... your Highness "
Again the Queen passed a speedy judgement "Neither are you Bardo",
The Queen began to despair a bit about the dishonesty of people
She began to feel very gloomy and disheartened
That was until... until one day out of the blue she received a strange letter which was unlike all the other letters
It was from a lady who was a former nurse
She said her and a friend of hers had been Carers for an elderly couple for many years
And they had a son who they still kept in touch with, they'd go out for the occasional meal
Often he'd drink too much and then he'd start talking and would tell them that as a hobby to take him away from the stress of his job
He used write things mostly poems and he'd post them online somewhere
He said he wrote under a pseudonym but he wouldn't tell them what it was
She said that when the Queen issued her decree she went and read some of Bardo's poems
And she thought she could recognise some of the stories her friend told in Bardo's poems.  She suspected he might be... yes! Bardo.

The Queen was intrigued by this letter
It gave her new heart...new hope
But how... how could she proceed
Finally she hatched a plan, she thought she'd just visit Bardo's house on the pretext
That they'd received a report that Bardo lived around that area somewhere
She'd just ask him straight out if he knew of him
And see what his reaction was.

So the next day she set off in her big chauffeur driven BMW car
They pulled up to the driveway of a house
The house locked a bit ramshackley, in poor condition
It could have done with a new coat of paint
The tarmac too was very worn
And there were weeds growing in the flowerbeds
Inside the porch sun room it looked a bit rough as well
There were tools strewn around it like someone was working there
She rang the front doorbell
After a few moments a figure in a beanie hat answered the door
The Queen introduced herself and then asked if he knew of a poet named Bardo living in the area, that they'd received a report
The figure looked a bit stunned at first, then he smiled and bowed a short bow as if acknowledging who she was
Then he said "Bardo.... it's not a very original name for a poet, is it, is he any good ? "
"He's a wonderful writer I think", the Queen replied, "his poems they really speak to me, I'm a big fan, I'd love to meet him"
The figure pondered a moment then shook his head in a kind of amateurish theatrical way and said "Mmmm No, I'm sorry I don't... I don't know this... this Bardo"
Then he smiled and said "If I was a poet, an Irish poet writing under a pseudonym
I'd call myself something like... like Spudy Potato"
"Do you write?" asked the Queen
Here the figure stumbled a bit in his answer
He said"No!" and then stammered "Not...not really"
The Queen got a funny feeling about him, his replies and demeanor didn't seem to ring true somehow
So she changed tack, she said they'd been driving all day long and wondered might she possibly have a cup of tea as she was parched, she even said she'd pay for it,
The figure declined her offer to pay, saying instead he'd be greatly honoured to have her as a guest
Although he said he'd have to apologise for the state of his house
"It's a real Man Cave" he said inviting her in, "not much feminine influence here unfortunately".
"You live here all on your own", the Queen asked
He nodded and said a bit wearily, "All on my lonesome" and then smiling added "I have no one to talk to now not since my cat passed away"
(The Queen remembered Bardo's cat poems Tommy Tigers and The Defector)
"You're a cat person", she said
He smiled nodding his head "Cats are funny".
"You don't get lonely living alone ?"
"Oh! " he shrugged, "sure we're all alone in the end anyway" he said enigimatically
(The Queen was reminded of a Bardo poem The Great Alone)
He added again smiling "Didn't Oscar Wilde once say 'Living with yourself is the beginning of a lifelong romance'
When he went off to make the tea the Queen watched after him, she could see an inner room where there was a computer set up like a workstation...
As she waited she took a look around the porch sunroom, she could see some dust upon a table and on the window sills
And she noticed there were holes in the carpet which seemed very old
And also there were some spindly spiders up on the ceiling
She was reminded of the Bardo poem "I'll do anything for you Baby but I won't clean my house".
When he came back with two big mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits
The figure apologized again for the state of the room
He explained he liked to keep it looking a bit rough
As he thought no thief or burglar would be interested in robbing such a poor looking house.
She asked did he work from home
He replied "Ever since the Covid yes! we've had to work from home"
The Queen was reminded of the poem "Working from home".
Suddenly the figure went to say something but seemed to have some difficulty getting the words out
He stammered "Wh..wh...wh" then he stopped and apologised, he said he had a bit of a stammer sometimes
The Queen remembered in the poem 'Working from Home' Bardo had a stammer
He went on "What I wanted to say was why do you like this poet so much ?"
She thought for a moment and then said almost dreamily "It's the things he writes about Loneliness, longing, being empty inside, about his youth and the hope he had when starting out... it's like he's trying to make sense of his life...and he's funny... quirky things like that"
"But why would you be interested in those things, sure you're a Queen, you must have everything, your life must be so full"
"Sometimes it gets so lonely", she replied sadly, "it's like you're living in a bubble, I often wonder what's it all about, I feel so lost and alone sometimes... and so empty inside"
Suddenly the Queen sat up in her chair as if regaining herself  
She said, she admitted "You know"I haven't been completely honest with you, calling on you today
It was no accident
We received a report that you wrote poetry and that you post it online in secret
We thought that you might be him... that you might be Bardo
The Queen noticed a marked reticence or reluctance in the Poet
"Oh!", he said
So to assuage the situation she asked "Would you recite to me one of your poems... I'd love to hear one... please"
"Oh!", the Poet replied shyly, "you don't want to hear any of my ramblings"
"Oh yes I would ", she replied enthusiastically, "would you not recite one... one for your Queen"
She fluttered her eyelids, "Please! Pretty please "
The Poet smiled at this and at her enthusiasm
"Well I have one that I never showed to anyone, it's a bitter type of poem, a bitter Blues type of poem, it has some coarse language now
It's about a poet who writes but never seems to get anywhere, he feels he's been left behind... forgotten
It's called... I know you're not supposed to use clichés but this saying sparked/ inspired the poem, it's called "I couldn't even get arrested "
"Read it to me please ", said the Queen expectantly, "I'd love to hear it"
So the Poet rose to his feet and cleared his throat and began...

"I couldn't even get arrested

My soul it sings like a sad violin
Busking on a street where few ever come
From another street I hear loud applause and cheers
They want the young not some old gun like me
I couldn't even get arrested.

They pass me by and they don't bat an eye
Like I'm someone not worth knowing, my story not worth telling
"You think you're something special", they seem to say
"Man you're just wasting your time, you ain't got that Do Re Mi" -
I tried, Lord I tried, ain't no one tried harder than me
But I couldn't even get arrested.

I feel like Vincent Van Gogh must have felt
Pouring my heart out for all to see
Naked I stood there
But no one wanted me
All that time I gave to rhyme and nothing to show for it
Was I just ******* my life away
I couldn't even get arrested.

Browsing down the bookstore
Seems these days everyone's got a book but me
Young girls and boys writing books like their toys
Just for fun so it seems
But me, I couldn't even get arrested.

Is it a Jinx or what
Has someone put a spell on me
Or is it you're just no feckin' good...
I couldn't even get arrested.

So I guess I'll just keep plugging away
Putting it out there and hoping some day
Knowing nothing will ever come of it
I'm battered and broken and too old to care
I couldn't even get arrested".

The Poet stopped and looked over at the Queen a little uncertainly as if seeking her approval
She looked speechless, spellbound even
She rose to her feet and then exclaimed excitedly "Bardo!! It is you!"
She went on "I think... I think I'm in love with you"
"Yea", the Poet said a little dismissively, and gesturing to his room "come and live in relative poverty and obscurity with me"
As she stood there looking at him she was reminded strangely of a story from out of the Bible
The story of the sick lady who was trying to get to Jesus
But was hampered by the crowd
And she thinks "If only I could touch the hem of his garment I know I'd be healed"
She thought as she looked at him "If only I could kiss him I know I'd be made whole"
She edged closer to Bardo
"You've got lovely dark blue eyes"
He replied  looking down at her "Y'know you've got the loveliest, the cutest little nose there Queenie"
The Queen was reminded of Bardo's poem 'Little Perky Nose'
Her face moved closer to his, then suddenly she made a sudden lunge forward
She placed her lips on his and kissed him
(She even slipped in a bit of tongue there)
Suddenly there was this blinding flash
Outside, the Queen's big car had turned into this big bank of leaves
Which then collapsed on the ground and blew away in the breeze
Her chauffeur too, he'd turned into this big... this big Badger, he went scurrying off into the undergrowth
The Queen herself too, why she'd been transformed
Now instead of a Business suit, now she wore this lovely dress with lovely flower designs and  bright colours on it
And her hair, now it fell naturally in lovely thick long tresses down her back
Her face too, had been transformed, was radiant, she had these lovely rosy cheeks and brilliant shining eyes
The Poet looking at her, strangely he could only speak to her in the Irish (as Gaelige... pronounced '*** gale-le-ga')
"Ta tu go h-alainn", he said (translated 'You are beautiful '... pronounced 'Thaw too gut hauling ')
"Ta tu cailin deas" (translated "You're a Lovely Girl"... pronounced 'Thaw too Colleen jass"....)

He took her hand in his, needless to say from that day forth they both lived  happily ever after.

One evening I sat down with my dinner to watch an episode of the original Star Trek series
With Captain Kirk, Spock and Bones, Dr.McCoy
But when I turned on the TV 'The Six Million Dollar Man came on
Obviously they'd shown all the episodes of Star Trek and were now starting to show The Six Million Dollar Man
Now we never watched The Six Million Dollar Man growing up, it was really for the younger generation, the younger kids
But I decided to watch it anyway as there was nothing else on
And it was OK, it was nicely done
I noticed the guest star in the episode was an actor named Gary Lockwood
Now I knew Gary Lockwood was famous for playing one of the astronauts in the movie '2001, A Space Odyssey '
He was also famous for appearing in the very second episode of the original Star Trek series (think it was the second)
It was a great episode, he gets zapped (electrocuted) by an alien entity
And then starts turning into this superhuman being with dangerous ESP powers
The Captain and his colleagues have to get rid of him before he grows too powerful
He's famously going to "squash them all like insects"
Now I also remembered seeing him in a movie once in the 70's
I had to look it up on his Wikipedia page
It was so long since I'd seen it
It was called "Model Shop"
It was a curious movie, kind of an art movie
It was like a postcard to Los Angeles and the late sixties
He was driving around Los Angeles in a small antique type motor car
He had quit his job and was about to be drafted into the army (to go and fight in Vietnam)
He was short of money, had girlfriend problems and had become fascinated by a mysterious French lady,
I looked up the movie on Wikipedia just out of curiosity, for nostalgia reasons I suppose
I noticed it was directed by a Frenchman named Jacques Demy
Now I never heard of Jacques Demy before
So I looked him up too just to see what kind of career he had and had he ever made any other movies
And yes, he was noted for several movies but especially for one in particular
One that was regarded as a classic
It was called "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg"
Some people have called it the greatest musical ever made
It was a movie where strangely the dialogue was all sung
It was also the movie that made the French actress Catherine Deneuve a star
And the strange thing was, I'd never even heard of it before.
My interest was piqued so I looked up the movie and was blown away
I thought the French language would be a clunky language if sung
But here it's wonderful, it flows so beautifully and naturally
You quickly get used to the dialogue being sung
And it seems to heighten the emotions of what's being said
The story I suppose is about innocence and young love and then the world intruding
and upsetting everything
The movie was made in 1964 when a lot of movies were still being made in Black and white
But it was made in glaring colour, it's so lovely to look at
Even the wallpaper has a staring role.  
For me it was a magical movie experience, a delightful discovery
I've watched it several times since
It proved a pleasant distraction during the cold Winter months.

I was at a funeral recently, a work colleague, a nice lady
Her father had passed away
I was surprised to learn that she was an only child
And that her Dad...her Dad was a 'steeplejack' of all things
Yea he used to climb up and repair church steeples or build church steeples, whatever steeplejacks do
I wondered amusingly Did he ever try and get her in on the trade
"C'mon up here Sarah, there's a great view from up here" He! He!"
Later on in the service one of his nephews got up to give the eulogy
He talked about what a special man he was
I thought to myself, You'd want to be a special man to be a steeplejack
Me! I get dizzy standing on a chair
You'd want to have your head ******* on the right way doing that job
One mistake and you're... you're history
I thought his poor wife must have been a nervous wreck waiting for him to come home
He'd lived into his nineties (90's)
His wife had died just a few years previously
He sounded like... like quite a character.

I was reminded then of an old school Pal of mine... Tom from primary school (kindergarten)
When we used live by the sea
Tom was a great swimmer he'd won loads of trophies
There was an outdoor swimming pool in our village
And you'd often see him heading up to the pool
He'd have his towel and togs under his arm
He used to walk on top of the sea wall when he'd be going up the village
And there was this part of the sea wall that was very high
There was about a 15 to 20 foot drop onto the road on one side
And an even bigger drop of 30 to 40 feet onto the rocks on the other side
And the width of the wall was just around a foot and had little ruts in it (uneven surface) that you could easily trip on if you weren't careful
And he used walk on this like a tightrope walker yea!
And we used to watch him in awe with our mouths wide open in amazement
Asking ourselves 'How could he do that ?
What the hell was going on in his head that he could do such a thing ?
If he fell he'd be killed outright or certainly crippled
And no one would ever say anything to him, they'd just say "Oh! That's just Tom"...
One day coming home from school he took me into the swimming pool
He knew all the people who worked there
On this day they were cleaning the pool and had emptied out all the water
So what does Tom do but go out onto the 'diving board ' and starts bouncing up and down on it
And there's a drop of 20 to 30 feet onto the hard cement of an empty swimming pool
If he fell he'd be breaking his neck or his legs
Crazy!
He came to our house one time, now there used to be this big rocky outcrop that used come right up to the back of our house
We used to call it 'the Cliff', it was made up of all these big rocks and loose slatey type rocks and sand
It was as high as the house itself
We were all soccer ⚽ mad in those days, we used run up the steps to the back garden to play (was on top of the cliff)
We'd be looking over at the chimneys on the house
Tom came visiting one day, when we went out the back and he seen the Cliff
He announced straightaway "I'm going to climb that"
We said "You're crazy!"
We left him there bemused and went off to play our game
About 30 minutes later Tom appears at the side of our soccer pitch having climbed up from below...
And he could hardly kick a football, he just wasn't interested in that... wasn't interested
Inside his head he had...he had his own way to go.

Tommy Tigers, Thomas T. Tedward
The teddiest tomcat that ever tigered about
The Big T
Hallowed among houses and back gardens
Very warm and high up places
The tigermost Teddy, my Teddy Tumpkins
....Tommy Tigers.

Lying in my bed, the morning sun pouring in through my bedroom window
Dramatically lighting up the whole room
And him lying there on the bed clothes next to me
Stretching himself out and joyfully rolling back and forth
Rolling on his tum...in the morning sun
With not a care in the whole wide world it seems
Isn't it...isn't He... like Happiness personified
Suddenly he reminds me what it is to be happy and alive
Reminds me what Joy is
The happiness that should be our own true and natural estate
Unburdened and unperturbed
Weightless without a care
Light as a feather with a heart that's always merry
Delighted and grateful just to be alive
And to be able to marvel at this incredible world around us
Why we could...we could almost float up into the sky...
Thank you, Thank you Tommy Tigers for having shown me your way
For having en-lightened me...

Wait a minute, Look! Look outside! It's dark now, it's nightime
The Man in the Moon
He's suddenly sprouted cat's ears and whiskers
And let out a great big Meow..www!

I dreamt I was just walking down a street
When suddenly a lot of people came rushing out of this building
They were all shouting madly “Shooter! Shooter!!
They were running past me quick…frantically screaming
I thought I better start running too
So I turned around and started running after them, following them
But I felt somehow that I was slower than they were
A lot of people seemed to be passing me out
I thought I must be really falling behind
I felt I was bound to get hit…bound to get shot
I was almost waiting for the bullets to rip into me
I thought maybe the shooter himself was coming…maybe he was right behind me
Then suddenly I heard these shots ring out just like firecrackers
I thought maybe I should fall down and pretend I was dead
If only I could rub some blood on my face…on my head.

A few Christmases ago I put up a thing, it was quite seasonal and quite funny I thought
It was adapted from a small playlet I'd once written many years before
It was quite long though and I doubted whether many would ever read it
But I remembered it was a lot of fun to write
So I put it up anyway not expecting much
And surprisingly it actually seemed to do very well
A lot of people seemed to read it and like it
One of my fellow poet colleagues she was so impressed she even bought a star for it
I thought to myself "That means it would have appeared on the front page for a time "
Then I thought "Y'know that's a bit like getting a Christmas No 1 in the music charts, appearing on the 'front page' isn't it"
(A Christmas No 1 in the UK music charts was always a big deal)
I thought to myself "Well now you can die happy, when you go upstairs to the pearly gates
You'll be standing there with all the other guys and they'll be all shaking and trembling in fear.  But I won't be shaking, I'll be standing there like I didn't have a care in the world
And when God would come out and start questioning each of the new applicants
He'd finally come to me,  and he'd point his big fearsome finger down at me and ask
"So what did you do when you were down on Earth ?"
And I'll look back at him real unconcerned and cocky like and then I'll point my own finger right back at him and say "Christmas No 1 Big G"
And he'd be gobsmacked, yea he'd be wowed by this
He'd start stuttering and stammering "Wow! You... you.. you mean you had a Christmas No 1.,. just like.. just like the Pogues Fairytale of New York"
Then I'd have to correct him "No! The Pogues never got to No 1 they only got to Number 2, they were held off the No 1 spot by the Pet Shop Boys with their cover of "Always on my mind"
The Pogues should have been No 1 as their song was an original one not a cover ".
God will probably ask me then"Always on my mind, how did that one go again "
And I'd have to start to hum it for him"You were always on my mind (and then the keyboards kick in) do do do do/ do do doo You were always on my mind
And then the bridge or chorus "Showw me, show me that your sweet love hasn't died/ You were always on my mind-d-d/You were always on my mind"
And God will start humming it with me
"Do do do do/do de do
Do de do do/do do do "
Then suddenly he'll stop and shout over at St. Peter
"Hey Peter, roll out the red carpet, we got royalty coming ".