Old Poems

I was looking through some stuff and stumbled across some old poems, probably about six years old as I was doing my under grad when I wrote them. An excuse? Possibly.

Fat Porn Stars

Fat Porn stars
What's the point?

When nothing achieves
The purpose designed.

Like so much dead time
Floating as we drown

In what we make
And what we are.

Overweight they fake
Every intimate aspect.

This soulless vacuum
Of watching suffocates.

They are not female,
They just are.

You are not male,
You just are.

This is not real
Like hookers under bridges,

You wonder why the do
What they do

As you sweat and writhe
They think the same about you!

-Also, as an added extra -

It's not that if I told you everything
You wouldn't understand
As I am sure you would be comforting

It's not that if I laid myself bare
You wouldn't lend a hand
It's just I don't think you would care.

Due to a lack of poems

something silly

Adverts, Perverts and Late Night rantings

First off, I know that I said that this would be primarily a poetry blog but it is my blog and I can run amok if I so wish. And, wish I so.

I was watching the TV and on came that new Diet Coke advert, the one with the not overly attractive women on it. Where the woman opens the pickle jar (I see what they did there, they inverted the normal stereotype of men being only good to open jars and run errands, ha ha ha die) and then some bird fucking up the pictures on her wedding day as if to say she doesn't take the whole thing seriously. That it is something that she doesn't want to do. Now call me a misogynist but that is bull as women like all the attention. And for another reason IF YOU HAD JUST SPENT CLOSE TO TWELVE FUCKING GRAND ON A WEDDING YOU ARE NOT GOING TO FUCK ABOUT DURING THE PHOTOS AS MOST OF THEM ARE FOR ELDERLY RELATIVES WHO WANT TO REMEMBER, AND THEN FORGET, ONE DECENT MEMORY BEFORE THEY DIE! So that one is bullshit for a kick off. Plus even if she did do it to be "crazy" her new husband would look at her and call her a dick. And then have an affair... or something, I am not yet married so do not know how these things work. At the very least he would be put out. Then, then, you had some woman pressing her face, which looks like a bulldog being rimmed by a thistle (with poorly fitted braces), against the unusually clear windows of a boardroom as her friend gives some presentation, possibly on cake... or Aids... or the figures for Q4FY2009, I don't know. But, her friend finding it most amusing ruins the presentation and with that her promotion (which the presentation was relying on) and then her fella will have an affair or end up gay, again - I don't know how this works. Finally, you have a bar scene. And then something happens, something that would keep the man to the right (or left depending on your point of view) of this tripe happy. She, yes in a cunning and clever inversion of the sexualisation of the feminine by patriarchal system which controls, dictates and makes advertisements, she pinches a mans arse. Thus making him the sexualised object, therefore empowering the woman on the piss and reducing the formerly dominant masculine to the role of sexualised female!! What larks, but it gets better as not content with that they throw in some homophobia for good measure. As the pinchee, not the pincher, turns and sees a well dressed and stylish man - so obviously a homosexual or metrosexual man. Thus assuming that he has sexually molested him, they both look awkward and this empowers the lonely bint that did the pinching. If a man pinched a woman on the arse it would bring up the bad taste and memories of the Carry On or the Confessions of films and nobody wants that. Ever. Because the roles have been reversed and stereotypes inverted then it is ok. Almost as if Chalkie White was hilarious in concept. It wasn't.

But as it is not a man doing this things it cannot possibly be sexist. And as a caveat I was speaking to a woman (yes, it happens) and she said that she still faces a lot of objectification and is treated as "lesser" because of her gender, and this is equally deplorable. You cannot have one rule for one....

Oh, and well done to the Mighty Clarets for the wonderful mid-week win

A Poem for Home

Disused factory chimneys
Penetrating the sky.
Their black smoke fertility
Now resting impotent.

They stand useless and erect
A symbol of former importance.
The hills roll to a halt behind them,
Canals that once fed stagnate.

My Grandfather
Photographed this whole town.
The history was his
Detailed in, now, discarded slides.

A reminder that all things
Are eventually lost.
Boarded up shops stand where
Those men in flat caps once did.

This concrete necropolis mirrors
The sky, an endless stretch of grey.
Abandoned cars are engulfed
In dancing orange flames.

The places my Father played
As a child have gone.
Tesco’s tarmac covering places
Lost to history, like a fading memory.

My childhood now
Almost forgotten,
Swallowed by this town
And spat out, rejected.

Lying sterile and ignored
In semi-detached suburbia.
Surrounded by sepia coloured gardens
Where I played bored and alone.

Before being consumed by
Temporary McJobs,
In featureless offices
That replaced workhouses.

Assimilated into binge drinking,
Culture praising narrow thinking,
BNP Posters line the streets,
As everyone else fell into

Everyone else’s beds.
I watched the TV instead.
Subtitles substituting as
A lazy form of modern literature.

Eddie Murphy's Career Choices

make me sad.

BACK ONLINE YAY

A while back, before the theft and loss of the Internet. I bemoaned my lack of self-discipline in finding new poetry, or at the least - modern. In my search; through a book I bought, at the back, down near the middle somewhere. I stumbled across:

http://www.archiveofthenow.com/

It has sound files of poets reading poetry. It appears to have been set up as a response, or addition, to the Poetry Archive (http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/home.do) which is mainly canonical in nature.

Either way I like both of them. And in the end, that's all I really care about.