Sonnet 696 - Never rest

What shall I write tonight? I’ll think on it
And when I’ve had some thoughts I’ll let you know
But what I write must fit in a sonnet
As snugly as a booted foot in snow
Five feet, ten syllables per line, must flow
Or must it? I could stray off-piste, it’s true
Experiment, live dangerously, though
Like sonnets, I prefer to stay with you
Astonishingly, though our lips turn blue
It’s comforting and so I won’t shun it
Until all feeling’s gone, not just the glow
We felt at base camp when the climb was new
The view at this height, nearing the summit
Is some sight to behold, though cold winds blow

Advantage

Advantage, me
I served a good point
The ball was in your court
And your return hit the net
But somehow you still won the game
Because you don’t play by the rules
Because you hijack the umpire’s stool
Because when your serves are tame
You award yourself a let
So I’ve been taught
There’s just no point
Disadvantage, me

Computer

computer computer
you’re so beautiful
I depend on you to
be so dutiful

beautiful
dutiful

like the wife I never had
and because my life’s so sad

computer computer
you’re so beautiful

Sometimes

Some times are hard
like these times

Some times were even harder
like old times

Sometimes we complain
like these times

Some time we become plainer
unlike old times

Sonnet 695 - Nice and easy does it

The way to enjoy life’s to live for now
Live in the present, value what you’ve got
Make the best of your job, don’t crease your brow
Wishing you earned more, wishing it was hot
Relax and smile, don’t go chasing some pot
That doesn’t exist at the rainbow’s end
Peer pressure or consumer envy’s not
The key to happiness, the perfect blend
Do what you like and the adverts they send
For this and that will fade; the holy cow
Of competition is a rich man’s plot
We can all opt out of, and round the bend
The rat race disappears, and we can slow
To walking pace, see beauty in each spot

Sonnet 694 - Free trade. Yeah, right

World trade talks have collapsed in Geneva
Elections on the way in USA
And India, objections from China
All mean that fairness waits another day
So-called free trade principles still hold sway
Meaning the big guys price the small ones out
Of our markets, also ensuring they
Own the best foreign farms and mines. No doubt
Our leaders will throw foreign aid about
To compensate the poor third world farmer
Although as we know this may go astray
Into the pocket of some despot’s coat
As payment for allowing whatever
The big companies want to take away
Tuesday 29 July

Sonnet 693 - The pier disappears

The old Grand Pier at Weston is no more
That peerless western town is now pierless
The sands appear very much as before
But no more crested by white towers; a mess
Of blackened wood floats in the foam. Careless
Kids hunt for souvenirs, boats roam around
The wreck, surveyors strain necks to assess
The cost, now Weston’s lost its favourite ground
Old wooden walk, where sea breezes surround
Where fat old ladies, fat young mothers pour
More red sauce on their chips to match their chest
And shoulders; men show torsoes to the town
White into red, like people, the pier tore
Its skin to ashes in fiery flashes
Monday 28 July

Sonnet 692 - Schopenhauering

Read Schopenhauer while I was waiting
Intelligence just leads to suffering
Because we dwell on setbacks, all hoping
For better times, but life’s disappointing
Even when goals are reached, the joy’s fleeting
And as time marches on, health’s declining
Instead of living now, we’re just counting
The days and years down to the grim ending
While plants and animals are existing
Unconscious of their end or beginning
So that’s why the dolphin’s always grinning
If life was all pleasure, and pain missing
We’d need to hurt, to kill, to do something
To spice up dull existence, so boring
Sun 27 July

Sonnet 691 - Calmer about Obama

Barack Obama drama as we see
The man in Europe, visiting Gordon
Having already seen Blair previously
And afterwards meeting Dave Cameron
Prior to this, big rally in Berlin
And daring to hobnob with Nicolas
Sarkozy; cosying up to Frenchmen -
Whatever next? Meeting the ruling class
Preparing for power; change, but not fast
Above all, no threat to democracy
No radical wealth redistribution
Looking to future, aware of the past
Seeking to represent stability
And Anglo-American tradition

Sonnet 690 - In the name of Gord, go

Oh Gordon, you have really blown it now
You lost the Glasgow East by-election
One of the safest Labour seats, and how
The SNP is weakening Britain
Which you defended, since you’re a Scotsman
And you need Britain, for it justifies
Your tenure in Ten Downing Street, but ten
Years of Blair that you spent with bright green eyes
Are not to be enjoyed by you - surprise?
You flout your golden rules, borrow, somehow
Hoping to buy our votes, our affection
Like some dirty old man, but we are wise
To your transparent tricks; we will not bow
To your ego or your grand delusion

Sonnet 689 - Fairground distraction

Refreshed by a cuppa after my wine
A change of MP3 selection too
Sat by the Trent in Newark, weather fine
These small delights perk us up, clean the view
Like windscreen wipers doing what they do
Except when they squeak; then they’re annoying
And my tea’s turned into an ambient brew
And all the new songs are too hard rocking
And no guarantee of this sun lasting
The pendulum swings both ways; we incline
With it, half-full, half-empty, never to
Know stillness till the big clock stops ticking
So grease the roller coaster one more time
And hold tight as the world spins around you

Sonnet 688 - Two wheels good

Not as easy as falling off a bike
Was teaching my girl to ride one today
Her knees and elbows padded, took a hike
To the park where the surface is okay
Firm dirt path shaded by a canopy
Of mature trees from the sun’s wilting heat
She tilted, wobbled, paused for several plays
On nearby swings and seesaw, to the beat
Of workmen on a distant roof. ‘Compete
With those two sisters, show off swing technique!’
She thought, all Machiavellianly,
Then we left them, went riding in the street
Or she did, with me guiding, wide awake
To traffic, parked cars, and health and safety

Sonnet 687 - Two aspects of loneliness

The business meeting dealt with the business
The express train dealt with the journey home
Then comes the time that is, for some, hardest
How to pass time usefully on your own
The teenage wasteland where nothing was grown
The bitter, fruitless taste, the frittered age
Of youth descending in stages, outgrown
By useful truth unknown, useless knowledge
Acquired at home. But the time to engage
Approached; reproached by twin sex and success
Dragged out of bed, drugged, into new beds thrown
Alone no more, but still I turned the page
Sought company from books that cost me less
Than people; brought me peace in crowded home

Sonnet 686 - A flatful of dust

My sunlit screen’s all obscured by bright dust
Like blinding snowflakes frozen in mid-fall
The sun moves westwards as it always must
And now I’m finding that I can see all
As shadows mount the white screen and white wall
Goodbye sun, you’re no friend to thought process
You bring too much reality; you crawl
Into each dirty corner, dark recess
Training a spotlight on each filthy mess
Spilt food that’s hardened into yellow crust
In kitchen. Look at the floor in the hall
Such biodiversity. I’m impressed
Victorian-style cleaning maids, please just
Line up outside until you hear me call

Sonnet 685 - Barbecue blues

Been to a barbecue, now I’m so full
I’ve actually had to undo my belt
My bloated belly hurts; so regretful
About my gluttony. This sin was spelt
Out long ago, but resistance can melt
When faced with plates of burgers and chicken
And for the last few hours I have felt
The punishment with this pain that I’m in
Still, I suppose it’s not the worst such sin
I only hurt myself, not the people
Around me. As the rain began to pelt
We all had to shelter in the kitchen
Then, back outside, we shivered in each lull
Between brief sunny spells. But oh, this guilt…

Sonnet 684 - Good day

I feel great, top of the world mama, yeah
This life can be good if you are selfish
Have had a really nice day; went to a
Chinese buffet with friends and filled my dish
And since then did some ironing, got pissed
And played electric guitar and keyboard
Undertones, Sweet, Sparks, Sabbath, Jim Webb. Missed
The chance to play much Brel; couldn’t afford
To risk playing after eleven, sword
Of Damocles stuff if you do that. The
Rules state you must be quiet then. I wish
I was in a detached house; then I could
Do what I like and play on. But, whinger
You can watch a DVD if you wish…
And I intend to watch The Naked Lunch. Yum.

Sonnet 683 - Fertile soil

I wonder whether feelings or a numb
Mere vegetable existence is best
A fish doesn’t fear the whale’s mouth that comes
Like the Grand Canyon to a faller’s rest
And does it matter once you pass the test
And spawn as you were meant? And anyway
Whether you do or don’t you’re just a guest
A machine with your plug pulled out one day
A seed that lands, takes root, is pulled away
Prematurely by hands of fate, the thumb
Down pointing to the soil that teems restless
A billion brown jaws await their payday
Denied for now, but patient and then some
Brainless, painless, and by us, unimpressed

Sonnet 682 - In the pink

My pink guitar, the new love of my life
I’ll stroke and stretch your strings with my fingers
My pick will pick you up just like a wife
On the threshold; let each long lick linger
My salmon pink star, electric singer
Accompany me when my feeble voice
Attempts a duet, plug in amp, tongue a
Hillman Imp to your flash Rock n Rolls Royce
I’ll never smash you, at least not by choice
No Pete Townshend treatment, trouble or strife
No setting alight, Hendrix-style singes
I’ll stay faithful, not just one of the boys
To you my axe that’s sharper than a knife
Clear as a bell pulled by expert ringers
Thur 17 July

Sonnet 681 - Sonnet workshop

This is an experimental sonnet
There’s nothing in my head so I’ll just write
Workshop-style, until something pops in it
Or maybe I’ll just write and write, not quite
Sure of what it’s about; finish in spite
Of nothing to say. A good game to play
Well here I am, halfway through; still no sight
Of any slight meaning. They get away
With this in other art forms, so I say
Why not in this one? Why not pit my wit
(That’s singular. Not ‘wits,’ I’m not that bright)
Against the lack of muse? When music plays
It’s mainly sound; the words just have to fit
Into the structure, like I’ve done tonight…

Sonnet 680 - The void

If there’s one thing we all try to avoid
And thinking is an obstacle to this
It is the contemplation of the void
More than the deadly dark and deep abyss
More than our partner’s final Judas kiss
More than the fires of hell Jesus will roam
Dante and Virgil’s literary bliss
Obliteration? More like cosy home
Seen Naples with Vesuvius’ vanished cone
Impervious to new life, life destroyed
Do we mourn our ancestors in the seas
Pre-Cambrian invertebrates in foam
Bubbling on grassless shores? Are they annoyed?
I doubt it, because ignorance is bliss

Sonnet 679 - Rant number one

Another week at work, oh bloody hell
I’m a wage slave just like that Ronaldo
The millionaire that United won’t sell
Duck, Ronnie, when Fergie does the boot throw
Another week at work, bloody hell, no
At this rate I’ll be no Rockefeller
I have just bought a new umbrella though
Hey, get your hands off it, Uri Geller!
Another week at work, how to tell Her
Indoors there’s no pause on the old treadmill
So put our backs into it, round we go
Each week like some old song by Paul Weller
Another week at work, oh bloody hell
Please save me from this life of a saddo!

Sonnet 678 - Learning to dance

It's Sunday, ballet show day in Stockport
They're singing 'Summer Holiday,' dancing
In stripey bathing costumes like they're taught
And at 7.30 the show's starting
Meanwhile the summer school term is ending
The real summer holiday's nearly here
And we must have one, but not depending
On bank balance or whether skies are clear
Two cappucinos and crisps please, young sir
With four new summer tops chosen and bought
That make me look a young fashionable thing
Till they're out of date later on this year
And by these tricks are careless people caught
In debt from peer pressure, overspending

Sonnet 677 - Noises from above

Singing and clapping in her bed upstairs
My daughter, five, too excited for sleep
I think she's happy - I can hear the airs
From Mary Poppins, not counting of sheep
Hush! All is quiet now. Will slumber creep
Into her room to claim her soon? Surely
As darkness keeps falling from space so steep
Her shadowed face, her eyelids so heavy
Will slink like a black cat in jungle tree
Into the silence, into lofty lairs
Above the soil and grass, where night birds cheep
And gravity can't spoil, lovely and free
Necklaces strung with pearly moons, and stars
Sprinkled on cornflakes. Now it's safe to peep

Sonnet 676 - Between drinks

I was drunk but I’m almost sober now
And when I am I’ll pour another one
It’s fun to drink but you have got to know
When you should stop so you can get things done
And besides, being sober can be fun
You can do ironing and stuff like that
You can keep fit: cycle, go for a run
Talk to your mum, have showers, feed the cat
Play with your kid for hours, they’re no brat
Except when you’re too selfish to allow
Some time to make them smile. Weed the garden
Play music, read, make love or simply chat.
It sounds so easy but it’s too late now
For all those things, so pour another one

Sonnet 675 - Food for sport

I’m a bean baker, been baking beans years
You’re a cream icer, both nice cool careers
I eat Marmite, but Ma might not, I fear
Reg eats his veg at tables very near
My brother scratches pork with a fork. Queer!
My mother eats a pizza. Mamma mia!
Green beans? I do a runner. My scene’s beer
Ketchup makes me retch up. Tomatoes? Bleuurrggh!
My daughter drinks water; that should be clear
My son, try some pineapple, try some pear
Beetroot is purple: popular, I hear
Toward healthy food, stealthily we steer
Don’t hoard wealth, you can afford to be freer
A smorgasbord of pub grub’s not too dear

Sonnet 674 - Drowned rat

Before the rain fell down on me I looked
Okay but now my hair’s a little flat
Before the rain fell down on me and cooked
My goose, it was loose, now a welcome mat
Outside the rugby changing rooms shares that
Appearance with my barnet. Tarnished, wet
Bedraggled, straggling like spaghetti spat
From some drunk mouth, gone south and never ate
Before the rain fell down on me I met
You and your friends, but now tend my regret
As I let the drops fall and just get fucked
As bus stops call - Please shelter here! - no hat
Or even a hood would be good to get
Let all the rain fall down on me, crown struck
From head, hair stuck down, clownish, a drowned rat

Sonnet 673 - Street scenes

On Manchester streets you can see it all
Sit with a coffee and observe the show
In Piccadilly Gardens have a ball
Then have another in Caffe Nero
There’s trams and tramps, there’s beggars (just say no)
There’s cloudy skies and drinks, there’s ciggie smoke
The rumbling thunder of buses that slow
And stop, raining people, so many folk
Some busy, others dizzy. Fizzy Coke
At café prices, with slices of cake
The business people on the make, the calls
Taken on mobiles, a child cries, we go
Those few miles home before we end up broke
Away from the hub of this urban sprawl
Away to suburbs where the pulse is slow

Sonnet 672 - Goldfishfinger

Two goldfish swimming round and round their bowl
Do they long for the lakes, rivers and seas?
Do they get on, or are they perhaps poles
Apart, two different personalities?
Would they like their own bowl one day, if fees
Are not too high, not too much interest due?
Or do they go with the flow, although these
Bowls don’t have flows, tides or that much to do?
Some people put pirate ships in there. Crew
On deck! Swim to attention! One just rolls
Upside down all day long; the fat one. He’s
Fed up, maybe, with his lot, trying to
End it all. The small one’s a happy soul.
Two goldfish, living out their lives of ease.

Sonnet 671 - Not so sunny Sunday

It took me an hour to wake up today
I listened to the radio, drifting
The London murders, tennis, I think they
Were the main topics they were discussing
The crack in the curtain was revealing
A gloomy sky, a grey day for the show
In Wilmslow; will we go, or will swimming
Take its place (indoors, of course)? I’ll soon know.
My trunks and towel await, as does Jo
Whose first year at school’s almost done - hurray!
Not only coz she’s gradually growing
But also coz her teacher’s been a cow
Later on we’ll see Anita and Ray
For Sunday chat, snacks and coffee-drinking

Body and soul

Let me out
Set me free
Cried the soul
I can’t die
I’m made of air
Cried the soul
I’m not just inside here
I’m everywhere
Cried the soul
Having a bit of a crisis

Oh shut up will you, and I’ll pour us both a drink
Laughed the body
That’s the best way to shut you up, I think
Laughed the body
I’m sick of your mental weakness
Your ignorance
We get born, we become a witness
And then we’re ... removed
Because we’ve got ourselves ...in the way ... of progress
So what was it then? What did you want to drink?
Laughed the body
To nobody

But it says so
But I was told
Cried the soul
We go on, we don't just ... go
Was it a lie?
Cried the soul
I’m better than you
You're nothing to do with me
Cried the soul
I’ll be flying when you're just ... lying


Pipe down, I can’t hear the music
Snapped the body
Our relationship’s becoming abusive
Rapped the body
You’re trying to control everything
Bossing me about
With your annoying thinking
It's giving me a headache
I really don’t wanna listen to your nagging
It's sapping all my energy
You've lost that lovin' synergy

OK, OK, then why
Don’t we ... ask someone else?
Cried the soul
A god, a counsellor, a father figure
Someone we can trust
Cried the soul
We’ve got to or else
We’ll split, we’ll go bust
Cried the soul
I'm sure his verdict will be just

Just what YOU want to hear, I know, I know
Replied the body
No, no, just relax and go with the flow
Sighed the body
Until I decide to stop the heart
Until I decide to pull the plug
Bring to an end our not-so friendly little party
Till then, we’re gonna have to stay stuck, held together
So shut the hell up, you little upstart
Cried the body
And just let me be!

Sonnet 670 - Doctor, my eyes

My eyes, my eyes are aching, oh Doctor
I’ve spent too long staring at this small screen
Not the TV, I mean the computer
And Dr Who’s on later (where’ve you been,
Didn’t you know?) Although I haven’t seen
The series so far, he could be about
To regenerate, whatever that means.
Meanwhile, Serena lost to Venus. Out!
Cried the umpire; Serena gave a pout
But quickly smiled for the sake of sister
And mama sitting watching. Now I’m keen
To eat some food, or else I might pass out
I neglected that need and drank beer
Now I must stear clear of this little screen

Sonnet 669 - Freedom's yoke

Fourth of July, old anniversary
Of independence from the British rule
With similar feelings in Zimbabwe
Yes, colonisation it sure ain’t cool
But freedom brings responsibility
The kind that we all face when leaving school
When left to ourselves we can’t always see
What our next move should be, and can be fooled
By short-term gain, paid for expensively
In later years, as long-term debt accrual
Devours that freedom, causes enmity
And hardship, civil war, long-running duel
Between future wealth and immediacy
Yes, freedom often is a tarnished jewel

Sonnet 668 - The NHS at 60

The NHS is now 60 years old
Is it as sick as many of that age
Who flick through mags in waiting rooms, the cold
Viruses transferred from fingers to page?
Will it reach 100? Then let’s engage
The questions of funding, and immigrants
Who do the jobs we won’t, yet still enrage
The locals and the tabloids. But who wants
Those jobs, and who’ll pay tax when we’re advanced
In age, if we don’t? Or should it be sold
Once lack of tax money and lack of wage
Condemns the NHS to remembrance
Will pensions and healthcare then be controlled
For profit, and the poor disadvantaged?

Sonnet 667 - Vigilantes

The vigilantes of normality
The self-appointed guardians of right
Control the streets and offices, you, me
And knife us in the back as we take flight
But worst of all is when we choose to fight
Then we are hunted down like some poor fox
Hounds salivating; orchestrating bites
Sound of conductor’s baton as it knocks
For silence before the whole building rocks
Sound of the judge’s gavel; the guilty
Hears sentence passed in whispers, out of sight
And must depart; the train waits on its tracks
For some gulag perhaps, or Coventry
The trial over, there’s no chance to see
The charge or build defence. So Kafka writes

Nutters on the road

Today I had three fights on the road
Groundhog Day meets Duel
Three times the cocks tried to crow
but I didn’t let them
I revved up my Fiesta
Did my best
A waste of time
The acceleration in my runaround just wasn’t there
But I gave these lunatics a good scare
and they almost ended up in intensive care
but I took pity on them and let them live
They don’t deserve such consideration
but I don’t want their
or someone else’s
death on my conscience
I race like a gentleman

Sonnet 666 - The sonnet of the beast

The name of this beastly verse? 666!
That’s ‘six six six,’ you daft devil, not six
Hundred and sixty-six. Oh, take your pick;
Same thing, ain’t it? Saints hate it. John depicts
The beast at the time of apocalypse
Behaving badly, more than men. He flits
And flops about, putting us in a fix
Causing us to forget the crucifix
Which has some bad effects that almost nix
Our slim resurrectionary prospects
But never fear, fear God, read his edicts
In Biblical tracts, obey Benedict’s
Dictates and those of prelates; I predict
That by eternal flames you’ll not be licked