as i sit on this couch,
dirty dishes conspiring.
i bemoan my lot
although i’m dry and content.
my friend in his shack
doesn’t feel the lack
of amenities and machines
that help keep us clean.
i’ve been feeling sad this last season.
my soul accuses my ego of treason.
at the age of ten we moved from one side of town to the other, this was my first experience of turf wars, it seems even the teachers played this nasty game of ownership.
we were a poor family, my mum worked as often as possible while my stepdad drank the earnings.
anyway…we lived roughly three miles from this new school unless you wanna walk past John Bunyan’s Birthplace which was a shorter walk but more muddy and dodgy, especially in the dark winter.
most kids caught the bus, if their parents could afford to, they payed, if they couldn’t afford to, you got a free ticket.
we couldn’t afford the bus most of the time and rarely had a car so tried getting the free bus ticket.
but it turns out that for whatever reason, my family wasn’t included in the scheme, fukk knows why, i was just a child.
so it was that me and my younger bro would walk to school in the wind/rain/hail/snow, british weather is beautiful but not when you’re ten years old, walking home in the pitch-black, as the school kids drive past in their warm dry bus, laughing out of the windows.
this was the start of something but i didn’t know.
one day, my brother was really ill (his condition is now known about) and the teachers brought me to one side to explain that we would have to use the bus (i could feel their condescension) and i knew i would be bullied for it (you’re only on this bus cos ya bruvva’s poorly hahahahahahaha).
in that moment of selfish self pity, i wanted my bro to walk home with me, or a family friend to meet him off the bus so i could walk, but in my heart f hearts, i knew i was being silly so i got on the bus and met the truth, i wasn’t silly i was correct.
i swore i would never use another bus (even now i hate buses but admit their usefulness).
sometimes my dad would have a car, usually a scrapheap which bore more derision from my peers etc. a lad actually had the cheek to ask for a lift but got out early so no-one could see him lmao.
through all this, i was walking a hell of a lot, the local shop shut so just getting a pint of milk was a 4mile walk. and the walk-time was thought-time. i had a lot of time to think and resent this material life. i didn’t realise it was making me stronger…yet.
in school we were being taught that Africans had to walk so many miles every day, aren’t we lucky?
if only they thought about what they were telling me… we don’t need transport.
to this day, i’ve never learnt to drive, and only bus if family life dictates.
i’ve quickly wrote this and posting it before i can delete it
Someone’s been dancing too much
all the rains have turned to flood
see the trees breathe deep
as the magpie flies high
watch while the crops rot
and farmers start to cry
witness the wizard working his ways
sacrifice some rice for the good of the maize.
Photo was taken by myself, GLB.
This tail ‘tween my legs
annoys you like a dog that begs
hear the howling wolf in me
whining for a bitch on heat
can’t sit still with wandering feet
i’m a lonesome dog
she returns my lonesome call
from behind her garden wall
i can see her master’s tall
i’m a lonesome dog.
i stare at the walls i stare at my floor
my furniture and kitchen door
sometime, i screamed at the sky
asking God why do i do these things
that bring pain, the sky fell with rain
and the wind fell silent with
omens of demons that i tried to hide from myself
“roll up roll up ‘n’ gather round if you can
here he comes with another masterplan
watch him work his wonders if he will
running in rondels around the mill”
feel like a fraud.
am not what i thought.
thought i was me.
or maybe i am,
unless it’s a scam.
“are you scared of what you’ve wrote?”
i don’t wanna think, get me off this boat
i wish i had the courage of my conviction
to live my life without contradiction
Last seasons murder
Is this seasons shoes,
It’s the life we lead &
The life we choose.
Wouldn’t it be nice if
We could change the rules,
For i fear we might be fools.
Outside a sigh brings me to my senses,
i open the door and look through the fencing,
Branches bending in the breeze
A squirrel barks before it screams
i wonder why it left the tree
i hear his friends call out his name
Even this meat-eater feels his pain.
At times like this it’s only right to rain,
And yet, the clouds refuse their gain.
Life’s not fair and why should it be?
The same rain falls down on man and tree,
A silent bird upon the heath, beasts n fleas.
Am i more important than the worm underground?
Is it right that i should be proud?
Arguments echo within my mind,
Our arrogance could be called a crime.
I strive to find the middle line.
The path is unmarked and as dusk becomes dark;
Only then do i see;
Life’s not fair and why should it be?