Jukebox communication,
Calling out for Miss Chien,
Stare deep into my eyes, you womble.
I want your love, I want your love.
Pull up to the bumper, curb, carwash.
Please don't take my man, Joleene, take me.
On this dreamy dreamy night
I've got Mr Sandman with me.
Dancing, drinking, singing, sinking
the evening from dusk till dawn.
Every day in every way, rave on.
I'm your brown-eyed handsome man
you're my girl at the bus stop.
Ship it music brain, say what you really mean.
No one shaved their head with a jumbo jet,
Or entered the room like a wrecking ball.
You can't show me who are the lonely people are,
The hound dogs, sun steelers, teenagers in love kicking teenage kicks.
My heart is equally uneven parts lying lyricists,
Nothing else makes sense,
I'm just a boy in love.
Sunday 25 September 2016
Saturday 17 September 2016
Bears! Woods! News! Bears In The Woods News!
A special Bears in the Woods News customer service feature on customer service, for customers using services. Tests have found that if one uses a false name when calling customer service lines they will not get the information one is seeking. Eleven out of ten times this proves to be true.
Thursday 15 September 2016
Notebook substitution
Slip in hand, wager set,
It only matters when there's money in it.
Tell that to the social worker, the nurse on the end of a shift,
Tackling a case load spread ever thicker.
No one ever stole services,
They were just chronically underfunded.
If the collective We don't want to pay for unused services,
Can we start with nuclear weaponry?
What We do with what we have
is all we have as our legacy.
And the legacy we fight against is the one that starves services, communities, people.
What equality there is is the level of inequality,
And still we have nuclear weapons that are more likely to see rust than action.
Note: I left my poem notebook at home, and decided to start recording my first drafts here. What will happen to this is it will make its way into my notebook, wait a few weeks while I write other poems, then I'll return to it and see how I can improve it and make it work.
It only matters when there's money in it.
Tell that to the social worker, the nurse on the end of a shift,
Tackling a case load spread ever thicker.
No one ever stole services,
They were just chronically underfunded.
If the collective We don't want to pay for unused services,
Can we start with nuclear weaponry?
What We do with what we have
is all we have as our legacy.
And the legacy we fight against is the one that starves services, communities, people.
What equality there is is the level of inequality,
And still we have nuclear weapons that are more likely to see rust than action.
Note: I left my poem notebook at home, and decided to start recording my first drafts here. What will happen to this is it will make its way into my notebook, wait a few weeks while I write other poems, then I'll return to it and see how I can improve it and make it work.
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