Tuesday, April 10, 2007

My pub-poetry Archive...

Welcome to my pub-poetry archive..
You will find 71 of my previous postings on these pages. If you would like to view my current work you will need to visit my ALL NEW pub-poetry page at: SweetTalkingGuy...

LAST STAND
I went to the
new bus shelter
on Churchill Way
and looked down at
Salford Ski Slope.
Like everything else
it looked neglected.
Grass had started
to grow through
the white squares.
No plastic bread crate
toboggan, no mangled
bike frame without wheels,
no toughened glass
panels lying about.
In fact it looked too neat -
the grass banking had
recently been mown.
I looked away in
search of a 52 bus...
Then it caught my eye
a single plywood panel -
resting at the bottom
of the slope!
DW1993CCLSIS

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

Song #8...

MY TWO STRING VIOLIN!
I got meself a Tennis Bat
it only had one string
I thought it was a Banjo
but it wouldn't swing.
So I took it down to
the Viola man - and
this is what he say,
He said: I see you've got
yerself a 'one string thing'
it must've cost a packet
and it makes a racket!
But, If yer wanna
make that rot-box swing!
Yer gonna have to get
yerself another string.
So I toddled on down to
The Ukelele Shop and
got meself a bass string
put on top!
Now, you want to hear
my, Two-String-Thing!
Swing, two string swing,
swing, two string swing!
You want to hear my
Two-String-Guitar swing!
Swing, two string swing,
swing, two string swing!
You want to hear my
Two-String-Violin!
DW19992

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

To my secret lover!..


SWEET
NOTHINGS
To my secret lover
just to let you know,
that I can't live
without my girlfriend
'cos I love her so!!
How I wish that
she was near -
how I dream that
she was here.
So I could whisper
in her ear:
Sweet, sweet, sweet,
sweet nothings!
That only she can hear.
Lots of pots and pans
of love and pockets
overflowing...
But without my
girlfriend near -
but without my
lover here, there ain't
no way of knowing:
Sweet, sweet, sweet,
sweet nothings!
That only she can hear.
From your secret love...
Guess who?
28701

MUSICIAN WANTED...

LYRICIST
SEEKS
MUSICIAN
I can't do what
you can do.
Like Dylan, Lennon
+ Lou can do!
'Cos I can't
write a tune -
like you!
And very soon,
if I don't hear
from you!
I'll have a zillion
words to throw away!
Call Danny today:
0911-555-4999
9797

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Salford Ski Slope...

COWARDY CUSTARDS
Last one to the bottom's
a Cowardy custard
said little Joey
aged five.
He was seated behind his
baby brother, Christopher
aged two
in their plastic breadcrate
toboggan, precariously perched
at the top of
Salford Ski Slope.
(Bet not many people
know about that.)
Next down was Brian
aged seven.
He slid to the bottom on
a mangled bike frame
without any wheels.
But the fastest and
best skier was Carol
aged six,
on a piece of toughened glass
from the old bus shelter
on Churchill Way.....
Previously published in Cowardy Custard's Last Stand in Salford 1992

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Song #7

SHIRLEY
(SHE'S SUCH
A NICE GIRL)

Shirley -
she's such a nice girl -
really!
Such a nice girl -
I guess that's why that -
they call her Shirl!
Go on Shirley -
give us a twirl.
Such a nice girl -
I guess that's why that -
they call her Shirl!
Shirley -
twirly wurly Shirley -
twirly wurly Shirley -
Go on Shirley -
give us a twirl.
repeat.
AS1999

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Alpha to Omega...

GREEK ALPHABET
Alpha beat a gamma
with a delta
in epsilom
while zeta eta theta
in iota and
kappa and lambda
joined the MU +
Newcastle XI
for omicron pie
as they row
sigma in tow
up silom
with phi chi
and psi
to omega...
ASP1982

HARRY'S EPIGRAM

D.O.A. Special K said the Doc.
in his bedside/telephone way.
Some said that he fell.
Others that he was pushed + punched.
I thought that he could float.
There again, I knew the man that sold
him the stuff that made him high.
All twenty two floors of it.
Two hundred foot, freefall, 'til the pavement
came up and met him.
Leaving the Coroner to write the final
epigram for the 'Local Rag'.
SALFORD 1992

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Maggies Farm...

SURVEILLANCE
I live on the twenty second floor.
Harry has the flat downstairs.
When I first moved here Harry said:
When two ants are doing it,
in the crack on the concrete car park,
down there man.
It sounds like Madonna in the back of
a stretch limo making out on Avenue B
with a Puerto Rican kid called Jose.
Harry wasn't wrong, even the passing traffic
sounds sexy from the twenty second floor.

I invited Natasha up for the weekend last month,
Harry fell off the step ladder when she came
and broke his leg. He won't be doing Callanetics,
naked for a while, in front of that six foot mirror
with his head phones on, tuned into the Bob Dylan
tapes I've been playing to the bug he stuck in my
bedroom lightswitch last year when I went to Butlins.

I know what Harry gets up to because I've got a
fibre optic lens, poking through the hole I drilled
in his ceiling rose when the gas man was due and
he had to turn the meter over in a hurry.

Everybody says that fifty per cent of Harry's head
went walkabout in Katmandu about five years
before anybody met him. Nobody knows what
happened to the other half of his brain.

Last time I saw Harry, he had his left leg in
plaster, a skateboard superglued to his bare right
foot and a crutch under one arm. In his free hand
he carried a walking stick for locating ants to
colonise the concrete crack. He'd just totalled his
Giro on two little pills that he hoped would make
him think that he could fly.

I said: What are you going to do with that bargain
bucket of Kentucky you've got gripped between
your teeth?
Harry said: I'm going to take it home and dissect it
man. It's got to last me all week, so I'm going to
stirfry it up with those bean shoots I grow with my
Herb in the window box.
I said: That sounds good.
And do you know what Harry said?
He said: I ain't gonna work on Maggie's Farm no more!
SALFORD 1992

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Fashion on the dole...

SALFORD WOMEN
The women dress like little girls
and the girls dress like little women
and the little girls dress like their
mam's dressed twenty years ago.
But that's fashion on the dole.
Round here a woman's old -
when she gets to forty,
then she dresses like Ena Sharples
for the next thirty years -
unless she's got a young bloke,
or a husband with a proper job.
Then she'll dress like a girl
and everyone'll say:
"She's fit for an old bag."
Except for the blokes down the pub.
They're not bothered as long
as they've got their entrance fee.
Barmaids are like that sometimes -
mutton dressed as lamb!
You'd think they'd have plenty
of money - with all those tips -
but it doesn't work like that.
All those coins go in the gas.
Or the husband drinks it with
the Giro every other Thursday lunch.
That's why the women dress like girls
and the girls dress like little women
and the little girls dress like their
mam's dressed twenty years ago.
CCLSIS1992

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Paris Quatre...

HIS DIRTY FEET
Who's that man
on the Left Bank street?
He's the tramp
from St Germain!
And the chic step over
his dirty feet when
they go to buy their
bread and meat.
He lies in a pool of piss
outside Parfum Maison!
Who's that tramp
on the Left Bank street?
He's the man
from St Germain!
And the chic step over
his dirty feet when
they go to buy their
bread and meat.
He pisses in a pool of lies
outside Parfum Maison!
19697

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Don't say nothing...

ONE DAY
Don't bother no-one
and you'll be alright
as long as you don't
look daft or too fuggin clever.
If someone nicks your car,
tell me - but don't say nothin'
if you know who's done it -
You won't be able
to sleep at night
or go for a drink.
You'll always be looking
over your shoulder.
Then one day
when you think
you're alright
they'll stick you -
in the back.
SALFORD 1990

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Song #6

WHEN SHE COMES
They say that:
Love is going
out of fashion
but,
I've not had
too many nights
of passion!
So,
Very soon,
I must get
my ration?
And,
When she comes...
I'll be over the moon!
x2
27107

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Hit the clicker...

CHANNEL HOP
You're a traveller
in your own time.
You can go anywhere
BBC1, ITV2.
Channel hop,
reach for the Sky.
You can go
down the tube,
up the antenna.
Cable under the street.
Hit the clicker
you don't have to
be remote anymore.
DW2006

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Go to bed...

SLEEPY HEAD
Sleepy head,
Jack Batty,
go to bed.
Oh sleepy head
Jack Batty
go to bed.
It's late at night,
your eyes are red
it's time for you
to go to bed.
I can tell by
the way you scream,
that all you want
to do is dream.
So, sleepy head,
Jack Batty,
go to bed.
First published in Proper Trog.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Paris Trois...

MOPED + MOPE
They moped + mope
two-up, sometimes three.
Heavy traffic doesn't deter
their 'moped mentality'.
In fact it contributes and
colours in a vital missing link.
What do 'grown' children do
before and after school?
In Paris, they moped + mope!
20697/2

Paris Deux...

CHUGGING ALONG
(The Avenue de Clichy)
Up and down the Avenue.
There's this funny little
man on this funny little
bike - all day long -
he peddles like mad -
then the engine comes on
and takes over - and he glides
in his mackintosh and tartan
scarf and his funny little hat.
And oh yes, you won't believe
this, he's got a lighted pipe.
This funny little Parisian
and his funny looking bike
both chugging along!
20697

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Crime!...

TELEVISION
Crime happens
on tv they say.
I threw my set
out of the window
and it broke out
all over the street.
Now I watch
the window pane
and I see CRIME!
12995

Beer Monster...

ROBIN HOOD
I like real bread
hand pulled
gravity drawn
from the wood.
I eat at real
bakers pubs
like Robin Hood.
18396

Keystone Cops...

YOU'RE NICKED!
You drive through a red light -
it's late at night and raining.
They point the finger at you -
then the balloon goes up.
You look in the rear-view-mirror -
he's thrown his anchors on!
He's bunged it in reverse -
You make a quick left -
it's a dead-end street.
He's right up your arse -
You're out of the jam-jar
and on your toes.
But it's too late -
the other one's got yuh!
You're up against the cold wall -
head against the keystone.
The bracelets click -
YOU'RE NICKED!
17191

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Song #5...

THESE STREETS (ARE PAVED WITH GOLD!)
The church bells are ringing
the choristers are singing
London is calling you
I know 'cos London's
calling out to me too!
'And, I've been told
that these streets
are paved with gold!
A gleaming stream
of much told unseen gold!
Red, yellow, green or blue
it dosen't matter who
your vote goes to.
'Cos, I've been told
that these streets
are paved with gold!
A gleaming stream
of much told unseen gold!
Since Richard Whittington
told the world about
the London scene
people plot + people scheme
to replicate his dream.
And, I've been told
that these streets
are paved with gold!
A gleaming stream
of much told unseen gold!
Repeat
3107

Friday, January 05, 2007

London, Paris, New York...

NO MATTER WHERE YOU WALK.
Montmatre to Montparnasse
Sorbonne to Pigalle
Fifth Avenue to Forty second street
and Broadway
No matter where you walk
these streets sing
and those walls talk
If this was Paris
or New York
these streets would sing
those walls would talk
But this is England
and it hums and it hums
London and its rubber drums
Manchester and her slums...
11596

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Song #4...

YESTERDAY IS DEAD!
Yesterday is dead
yes that's what I said
yesterday is dead!
You won't catch me
digging for dinosaur bones.
Hell, I've got enough
troubles of my own.
You're sixty-five million
years behind the times.
So, don't speak to me
about your scientific finds.
Don't talk to me with your
pre-historic minds.
'cos,
You won't catch me
digging for dinosaur bones.
Hell, I've got enough
troubles of my own.
Yesterday is dead,
yes, yesterday is dead + done.
But babe, you wouldn't
think it, the way those boffins
go - on, talking about the past
like it's the 'In-thing' to know!
You won't catch me
digging for dinosaur bones.
Hell, I've got enough
troubles of my own.
They cite devolution,
like it's some kindda solution.
It's a piss-poor contribution!
If that's the way they
think, that we oughta grow.
Yesterday is dead
yes that's what I said
yesterday is dead!
4599

Monday, December 25, 2006

Christmas Day (1995)...

FUCK CHRISTMAS.
It's Christmas day in Moss Side
and we're eating turkey + cranberry sauce...
Across the street the dealers
and the punters are out in force...
Outside the corner shop as usual,
it's business of course...
A car pulls up
the man goes to the car
What yer want?
Give us yer money!
There yuh go!
Fuck Christmas!
MSC251295

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Salford Broadwalk...

ANYTIME..
Welcome to the city of dim dreams
they butcher, torture, slaughter culture.
These are the people east of Eden
that rob your houses and steal your cars.
They try to jeapodize your life
they want to Sodomise your wife.
Welcome to the melting pot of Tyre
welcome to the baptism of fear.
When you walk the precinct of Sodom
you'll get more than gonorrhea.
Written on the broken flags, in blood:
this is the society of crime!
The promised land of drugs for thugs!
anytime! midnight, noon or nine..
6392
In the Promised Land
it's drugs for thugs, anytime
midnight noon or nine
IN THE PROMISED LAND
midnight noon or nine
it's drugs for thugs, anytime
in the Promised Land
060392

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Telly Guru's...

THE HAT HE CHEWED?
Empathy? Not me,
it's pathetic how much
time they waste -
placating ego's
all over the place.
They always know
better than you -
they always will -
'til you stand up
and tell them to -
Stop talking shit!
It's a really bad attitude
that they've got -
they get it from
Telly Guru's like
Trinny and
What's 'er face? -
It's the way
they condescendingly
say things like -
Have a word with him! -
and -
Dress down -
not up. -
Full colour -
but -
Not clown! -
High Street -
Not -
small town.
And all the time
they force that
perfected frown -
that means so much
to their self esteem.
They can't help being cruel.
They think they're being
kind to you, by pointing
out all your facial lines...
Those Telly Guru's,
And the way they whine!
291106/2

Friday, December 15, 2006

Sports Cars...

THE GOOD SPORTS.
I know where all
the good sports
live in Salford.
Bobby's got an
MG BGT.
Simon drives a
Porsche Carrera
that's simple
to remember.
Jackie's got
an XJS
and Bobby's
brother has an
E-type under wraps.
I haven't seen a
Frog eyed Sprite
but there's a TR6
going to waste
in Weaste.
And in Seedley
Pete the stud
drives his Stag
on nights out
with the boys.
Like I said
I know where all
the good sports
live in Salford.
SC 1992

Monday, December 11, 2006

The Crimbo Giro Queue...

MOSS SIDE POST OFFICE.
The workers slow down in
their company bankrolled cars
and sneak a peak at us.
We're dressed in leathers and
designer gear that they can't afford.
They, look at the 'Queue Here'
notice and smile.
It's PRINCESS ROAD POST OFFICE
and it's Crimbo Giro day!
Two policemen monitor the line
but some bright spark, has changed
the letters round on the sign.
After 'Queue Here' it reads:
TO CRAP ON PISSED OFFICERS.
211295MSC Danny Wise.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

The Langworthy...

ORGANISED CRIME.
Like the police spokesman said:
There's no such thing as organised
crime in Salford.
And a pub landlord robbed his own
safe and tied himself up.
He owed the good old boys
fifteen hundred pounds.
So, who collects the protection money
from the corner shops?
Who collects the protection money
from the pubs and clubs?
So, why are taxi's so expensive?
Why are buses ninety percent empty?
Like the police spokesman said:
There's no such thing as organised
crime in Salford.
Previously published in Cowardy Custards Last Stand in Salford (c) 1993.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Paris Une...

VINGT GITANES.
I wander alone in this great place
no-one bothers me, hardly,
apart from a few girls,
calling out of upstairs windows after dark.
'Hey English!' and 'Sprecken sie Deutch?'
But I'm tongue tied, except for
Vingt Gitanes
, Sil vous plait!
and Merci becoup, Madamossell!
After a while I start to read the shop front names.
The street signs come alive -
Rue de St. Germain, Montparnasse
and Parc de Champs de Mars.
Advertising bollards suck me in.
Newspaper HEADLINES shout at me.
Eventually, I speak my first French sentence.
But the girl behind the Turkish bar
answers me in broken English.
Chicago, hey Mac? she asks.
Manchester! I tell her.
Oh, Bobby Charlton! she grins.
And I can't tell if she's taking the piss
out of my haircut, or what?
From 1987 rewritten 20697

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Song #3...

GANG TERRITORY.
You’re in gang territory here
You’re in gang territory now!
From Aigburth to Huyton
Lime Street to New Brighton.
You’re in gang territory here
You're in gang territory now!
Yazoo + Gibbo and all of the gang
spray paint graffiti in Liverpool slang.

Liverton – Everpool - Liverton
Everpool - Liverton - Everpool!
Liverton - Everpool - Liverton
Ever-pool - Liver-ton !
You're in gang territory here
You're in gang territory now!
This train is surrounded!
Cockneys die!

United + City died here!
If you can't speak Scouse
don't open your mouth.
You're in gang territory here

You're in gang territory now!
All the above words were found
amongst the graffiti on Merseyside
railway stations in 1984. I simply put
them into some kind of order.
AS51184

Saturday, December 02, 2006

Adam + Eve...

POET-TREE.
(THE ANAGRAM OF EDEN)
The circle of the earth
had four corners once
and an inferior intelligence
created its inhabitants.
But the Poet god, came down
and banished the pretender
from his presence.
The Poet god annihilated
the hidious dis-order and
established a new creation.
But the pre-creator was
a snake in the grass and
he outstayed his welcome.
The hothouse in the centre
of the sphere began to sprout.
The Poet god called this place
the garden of Eden.
Next, he made a main man
to represent himself.
And the banished serpent slid off
to beyond the four corners
of the earth.
The Poet god brought the animals
and the plants and the trees
in the garden for the main man
to name. Then he made a woman
for the man. The main man was
Adam and the woman was Eve.
And Eve, was to be Adam's wife.
And they were to live together,
naked, forever, in the garden.
Then one day long after
the Poet god had gone, the
snake in the grass re-appeared.
Who are you? asked Adam
who knew everything.
Where did you come from?
Enquired Eve, who now knew
something Adam didn't know.
'From the four corners of the earth.'
The serpent lied. Planting the seed
of need in the garden.
But the Poet god didn't make you!
Said Adam, adamantly.
'The Poet god didn't tell you everything!'
Replied the resplendant pretender.
We want to know, we need to know!
Said Eve, speaking for both of them.
And the snake climbed the Poet tree
and threw down some fruit.
It is forbidden! cried the naked couple,
The Poet god said! - 'But forgot to mention',
interjected the serpent. 'That when you
taste the fruit of knowledge from
The Poet tree, you will be like he.'
And the pretender slithered off, back to
beyond the four corners of the earth.
If we eat the fruit of The Poet tree
we'll be like the Poet god!
Said naive Eve.
And Adam in his wisdom agreed.
A greed which turned the anagram
of Eden into need!
AS28492
Posted on SweetTalkingGuy... clink-the-link

Friday, December 01, 2006

Song #2...

LIFE IS NOT EASY.
(NO NOT EASY NO MORE.)
Life is not easy
No not easy at all
Life is not easy
No not easy no more.

It's better to have
kissed your sister
than never to have
loved at all.

It's better to have
scored and lost
than never to have
played football.

'cos

Life is not easy
No not easy at all
Life is not easy
No not easy no more.

That's what they
tell me babe
they say:

Life is not easy
No not easy today.

So, don't pretend
that you're winning
at the beginning,
at half-time
or at the end!

'cos

Life is not easy
No not easy my friend.
repeat.
SONG WORDS 11899 SEWINA

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Piccadilly - Pick - Pocket...

ASSAULT + FLATTERY.
Daisy Dippy
on the 'dilly
kissed my lips
and touched
my willy
must've thought that
I was silly.
When she said
she liked
Big Ben!
I didn't know
she meant
my ten...
quid that
she slid
into her pocket
that she dipped
from my
sky rocket!
AS1393

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Two Girls...

MOAN
+ MOAN
AND MOAN!

If you've got
two girls
you're gonna
need two 'phones.
So when they
call you up +
you're all alone -
and all they want
to do is moan -
you just put
'phone to 'phone
and let them
moan + moan
and moan!
AS25974

EVERYBODY'S MAD.
Madness ain't all
it's cracked up to be
you see, everybody's mad
to some degree...
it's not just me!
You were mad
about that lad! -
he was mad about
missing the bus.
She went mad about
getting so wet -
When I get mad!
I make a fuss
I burst my balls!
I throw my dummy
on the floor - I rattle
my cage and bark
at the cat. I wear
hats backwards
and uni-cycle
everywhere and
that's just if I can't
see my favorite
programme on tv!
291106

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Street talking...

OVERHEARD IN MOSS SIDE.

BUILDING DRAWS?

What yer doin' these days man?
'Got meself a job at the furniture factory man!'
What they do there man?
'Me just build drawers man!'
Build draws man? Me can do that!
MSC1995

IMAGINATION
If you can talk
you can fly...
That's what the
high fliers tell me.
They're floating man,
when they communicate.
Poets are like that.
Give them a quill, some ink,
a moment to think!
And their imagination
takes off.
AS19396

Monday, November 27, 2006

Nobody talks...

THE FINE ART OF COMMUNICATION.
Nobody talks to anybody any more.
Except for 'Did you see Coronation
Street last night?' down the local pub.
I had twelve pre-set channels and a
tape deck on my car stereo.
But it's being rolled with tobacco now
I expect.
And resold on someone's car boot stall
for another fool to have boosted
from his Ford.
Nobody talks to anybody any more.
They just throw the channels about
on the satellite receiver
and pull up the blanket 'cos
the heating costs too much to feed.
Somebody said something
in the lift the other day.
Everybody watched him.
They thought he was on T.V.
Previously published in Cowardy Custards Last Stand in Salford 1993

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Proper Trog...

NICOLA AND JACK.
She smiles - it's real joy.
Which one?
She asks as the baby
holds out two hands.
She throws a monkey
face at him -
The baby squeals
with delight.
His mother wipes
a silent tear
from her eye.

LITTLE JACK BATTY.
Little Jack Batty
Sat on a tatty
Eating his Ploughmans Lunch
His breakfast all done,
And his dinner to come
And said, 'What a nice bit of brunch!'
Previously published in Proper Trog.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Chief O'Hara...

CHIEF.
Chief's the main Glassman
he don't care
Chief shines windows anywhere.
He does upfronts
and
he does backdowns
you can check out Chief
all over this town.
'Do you want some hot water Chief?'
Yes please Chuck,
and I take two sugars
in my tea Love!
Shine on Chief, Chief shine on.
Thirty Bob for a quick up rub,
just to make enough
to be the 'boy' of the pub.
Chief's the main Glassman
he don't care
Chief shines windows everywhere..
STSTSPP1991
Previously published in StraightTalkingStreetTalkingSweet (c) Andy Sewina 1988

Friday, November 24, 2006

Knackered...

NIGHT NOISE.
As if we haven't got enough
commotion round here -
with the helicopter buzzing
the twenty second floor,
the factory alarm going off
every night when someone
breaks in, the fire engines
trundling past and the bang
every time a car gets torched.
Now we've got mounted police
patrols after midnight and they
wake up all the neighbourhood
dogs and when they start
barking everyone wakes up.
And those daft car alarms
don't help. No wonder no-one
pays the Poll Tax, the Water
Rates and the Rent in Salford.
Even if we had a job to go to
we'd all be knackered by first light.
Previously published in Cowardy Custard's Last Stand in Salford 1992

Thursday, November 23, 2006

'Uncle Joe's' Mint Balls are made in Wigan...

CORNER SHOP.
Whatever happened to
the corner shop?
It's doing fine round here
"Thank you very much."
"Join our christmas club."
Natasha wanted a
cup of tea at six am
I only drink coffee -
freeze dried of course.
I went to the corner shop
bought a paper, one cigarette,
a razor blade and an Oxo cube
to take to work and oh yes,
one tea bag for Natasha.
"Do you want it on the slate love?"
"You can have an egg to boil
for her breakfast if you like
and half a cup of sugar
from that broken bag,
or a single Weetabix?"
I said No, but give us one
of those 'Uncle Joe's' -
she likes something to suck!
Previously published in Cowardy Custard's Last Stand in Salford 1992.

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Five Minutes...

ARNOLD ENTWHISTLE.
You have got five minutes to tell me everything you know.
My name is Arnold Entwhistle I am ten years old - I have got a sister called Annette - she is twelve years old - I have got a younger brother called Paul - he is two or three - is it five minutes yet?
51 word fiction

7596

DOPE!

I sit here with
my legal dope
Duty Free
Scotch Whisky
imported from
Abu Dhabi
A hundred
cigarettes to smoke
no-one here to
share the joke
writing comedy
that's me!
what a frigging
Dope!
4396

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

His mobile thing...

RINGING.
I wake
the phone's ringing
it's not for me
it's not my 'phone.
It's for him
it's his mobile thing!
He's outside
in the night
in the wet.
'Yeah, yeah, right!
Yeah, yeah, check!'
I know his number...
but we've never met.
MSC61095

yeah yeah check
I know his number
yeah yeah right
BUT WE'VE NEVER MET
yeah yeah right
I know his number
yeah yeah check
61095a

Monday, November 20, 2006

Song #1...

JANET OR JAYNE?
(SOUNDS LIKE
JANITOR JANE)
I was strolling down
a country lane
when I saw a girl
so I asked her name
she said Janet!
or was it Jayne?
Janet or Jayne?
Janet or Jayne?
did she say Janet!
or did she say Jayne?
The next time I went
down that lovers lane
she was standing
there again
I said Janet?
she said Jayne!
Janet or Jayne?
Janet or Jayne?
did she say Janet!
or did she say Jayne?
So that was the end
of my lovers lane
(would be flame)
I simply forgot to
remember her name!
did she say Janet!
or did she say Jayne?
Janet or Jayne?
Janet or Jayne?
did she say Janet?
No she said Jayne!
7689

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Bus Deregulation...

BUSES.
I'm too angry to talk about
buses, when I'm fussed.
I wait aways and sometimes
but not often, one appears.
Most times I start to walk
the mile or so. And between
stops, after a while, one
whistles by.
At the next stop, I always
sit or lie, or queue in endless
stance, under a rain filled sky.
That's why I'm too angry
to talk about buses
when I'm fussed..
STSTSPP1991

BUS DEGRADATION.
Billy not silly
don't want bus
to Piccadilly
Billy stand
here waiting
like a Roger Hunt
Billy don't know
the Ali McGraw
No wonder
Salford bus shelters
get smashed
to Daffy Duck
What about the punters
no-one cares
about the poor
Maggie's innovation
bus deregulation
She has got
a lot to answer for
Previously published in Cowardy Custards Last Stand in Salford.

clink-the-link-to-Proper Joe's


And the poet is...

AD INFINITUM.
Nothing happens in a day,
the way they say.
Everything takes time.
Ideas are two a penney,
sixpence a dozen.
The guy who just takes one
idea and makes it happen -
He's GOD in the public eye.
It says something when
Joe Bloggs is Numero Uno
And the Poet is - naff all -
Ad Infinitum!
19396

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Trip to New York...

MACH III
Close your eyes and
visualise the Bronx,
Manhatten, Brooklyn,
Queens and Staten.
Through the rooftops
you must squeeze
and head for New York
on the breeze,
cross the ocean at:
Mach III, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8...
By the statue,
there I'll wait...
Then together we'll explore
Manhatten, street by street
at the speed of thought.
3481

Friday, November 17, 2006

Cycle Kids...

CYCLE KIDS.
Did you ever see those
crazy kids at night
that BMX along the roads
without a light
the way they race along
the gutter jumping grids
using the double yellow
peril as a track.
They're a nightmare
for a driver cycle kids
and when they do the
downhill slalom
along the broken white
even drunken drivers
have a fright.
So watch out for
crazy cycle kids tonight.
2981

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Get...

GET.
Get your little mews,
your muesli and
your news delivered!
Hang a Piccaso,
a Chagal and
a Modigliani on
the living room wall.
Polish up the bare boards
on the bedroom floor -
But don't pick flowers
in case they scream!
At your Vegan kitchenette...
11496

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Century's Waiting...

CENTURY'S WAITING.
Oh, the century's waiting
and the masturbating
and the menustrating
go on like they always
did before.
And the housing waiting
list is growing, that's for sure.
And the homeless are working!
selling newsheets on the streets.
And the dole queue's are twice
as long as the check-out line
at Aldi.
So what's gone wrong?
No-body can tell you
anymore.
4496

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Don't you dare...

DON'T YOU DARE.

Don't you dare
to dare me to
do the things
that you daren't do

Just because I
don't look scared
doesn't mean that
I don't care

'cos I've got lots
and lots of love
but not much
time for you

'cos I don't like
the way you act
or most -
the things you do

So never ever
call my name
I won't play
your silly game

and

Don't you dare
to dare me to
do the things
that you daren't do
3600

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Twinkle-toes...

WITH THOSE MAGIC SHOES.
Hey Twinkle-toes
I think everyone knows
that you can score goals
with those magic shoes.
You answer to Kelly
play better than Pele?
Hey Twinkle-toes
there's not much to choose!
you couldn't lose.
With those magic shoes
you should've played
for the blues...
121106

Friday, November 10, 2006

MSC Designer Feet...

DESIGNER FEET.

They want control

They’re out of control

Who’s got control

Of the street.

They’ve got designer logo’s

Emblazoned on their holdalls

And they wear labels

Stitched onto their feet.

They want control

They’re out of control

Who’s got control

Of the street.

MSC10196

Thursday, November 09, 2006

MSC Maisie Goss...

MAISIE GOSS.

Maisie Goss

lives on the Moss.

She’s seventy-six

and sick inside.

Every time she

goes the shops.

Every time she

looks outside.

Two blokes knocked

her neighbours door.

Punched that pensioner

to the floor.

He lived and fought

in two world wars.

What hope’s Maisie Goss?

MSC2196

Monday, November 06, 2006

After the bonfire...

NOVEMBER THE SIXTH.
The firemen go past
here all the time.
Blue light flashing
siren sounding.
They reach their destination
drive round the block
radio in:
"It's another false alarm."
In the morning you walk
past an empty house.
The doors are charred
the glass in the window frames
has gone.
It smells like
November the sixth.
PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED IN COWARDY CUSTARDS LAST STAND IN SALFORD.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

The Oxfam Shop...

TWOPENNY CHIC.
Dress up to kill
dress up to the nines
the nifty nineties
are waiting for you.

Ties are old hat,
suits are worn with boots.

Obey the 'Dress Code' means:
No trainers, no jeans!
Or, know the bouncer.

Oxfam's okay for clothes
but a bit expensive for the
Twopenny Chic.
Previously published in 1997 in Bards Around Britain.

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Toy Boy...

TOY BOY FLY.
Toy boy
toy boy
toy boy fly,
how does
toy boy fly
get by?
Step by step
and
try by try
that's how
toy boy fly
gets by!

Saturday, October 28, 2006

Daddy Wise...

NUMBER THREE
Put your botty
on the potty
do a little wee

Put your botty
on the potty
do a little poo

If you can't do
a one or two
do a number three

Put your botty
on the potty
little Jack Batty
First published in Proper Trog

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Fat Daddy...

FRESH MEAT
When fat daddy's hungry beware of his stare.
He'll eat you for breakfast, he just doesn't care.
He'll pick you right up and examine your feet.
He's glued to his chair, he's too fat for his seat.
He'll gobble your toes whole and bite off your nose.
He'll eat you all up 'cos he just wants fresh meat.

Previously published in Proper Trog.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Jack Jack Jack...

PHOTOGENIC JACK.
Photo crazy,
photo genie,
photogenic Jack.
Daddy's got a camera,
he takes some snaps of Jack.
His mummy zooms to 'Foto-Fast'
to rush those pictures back
for photo crazy,
photo genie,
photogenic Jack.

BITEY FACE.
Oh Jack Batty what a bitey face you've got!
You must just have had some bitey drops.
One to make you happy,
two to make you smile,
three to make you bitey face
and four to make you cry...

CLOCKS.
Old clocks
new clocks
brass clocks
blue!
Jack Batty
likes clocks
They don't
have to
go tic toc
any clock
will do
Tic toc
tic toc
Cuckoo!

THE ABOVE RHYMES ARE TAKEN FROM MY PUBLICATION PROPER TROG

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Nearly Nearly?...

NEARLY NEARLY?
Previously published in Proper Trog.
Jack can nearly play football
'cos Jack can nearly walk.
Jack can nearly spell his name
'cos Jack can nearly talk.

Nearly nearly? No not really!
There's not much Jack can't face.
Upon his little tricycle
he scoots from place to place.

Jack can nearly feed himself
'cos Jack's got his own spoon.
Jack can nearly sleep all night
'cos Jack's got his own room.

Nearly nearly? No not really!
There's not much Jack can't do.
Upon his little tricycle
he zooms from room to room.

CLINKETH THE LINKETH! >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Friday, October 20, 2006

Hard Cheddar Cheese...

HARD CHEDDAR CHEESE
Previously published in Proper Trog.
Jack's got a big boy's cot
Shelly's got a china pot
So what's Mummy got?
Tell me please!
Mummy's got dry rot
That's what Mummy's got
Big boys cot, china pot,
Dry rot, so what?
Jack's got a smelly bott
So what's shelly got?
Tell me please!
Shelly's got a coat of fleas
That's what Shelly's got
Big boys cot, china pot
Dry rot, smelly bott.
Coat of fleas, so what?
Mummy's got a beauty boat
Shelly's got a bitey face
So what's Jack got?
Tell me please!
Jack's got cheeky chops
That's what Jack's got
Big boys cot, china pot,
Dry rot, smelly bott,
Coat of fleas, beauty boat,
Bitey face, cheeky chops,
Hard Cheddar Cheese!
CLINK THE LINK Don't you know?
You can e-mail this post to a friend!
Just
CLINK THE LINK on the envelope below.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Madness in Salford...

SALFORD
MADNESS
COMMUNITY
CHURCH
Previously published in Poetry Now.
If I was the vicar
of this church
the first thing
I'd do is take
down the sign
that says:
No right of way
to public
No cycling
I'd invite the kids
down to spray
paint the walls
I'd stick up a
notice that said:
Public right of way
Cyclists welcome
punctures repaired
But perhaps there's
a method in their
madness after all.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Two Rhymes...

BRITISH CHEESE.
It's all a con
this British cheese
it's all pre-packed
and processed
Cheshire's made
in Lancashire!
and so is all the rest...
in a factory north of Wigan
with a west country address.

LONDON TRADER.
My old dad's a London trader
he's no back street salesman
he works a pitch up Oxford Street
selling watches when he can.
They're franked and stamped
and wrapped and packed
they're fully guaranteed
yer genuine Swiss kettles
made in Hong Kong.
But you won't catch him
up West, on a saturday
'cos he goes down to Upton Park
to see those Hammers play.
He's even bin up north,
to Watford, to watch 'em play away
he came back Brahms and Listz
boozing all the way
Oh, he's a Cockney,
he likes a knees-up now and then
for he's a London trader
the best street salesmen!

Romance That's Romance...

ROMANCE THAT'S ROMANCE
No accident of fate or chance
we planned our dreams we chose romance
I planned to meet you in my mind
you chose to be there too
I wear denims you wore jeans
I like to disco you love to dance
You like to disco I love to dance
I wore denims you wear jeans
you chose to be there too
you planned to meet me in your mind
we planned our dreams and that's romance
No accident of fate or chance
250882
Previously published in StraightTalkingStreetTalkingSweet (c) Andy Sewina 1988
YOU CAN BOOKMARK THIS PAGE!

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Frankie Vine...

@ PIER HEAD
By the Mersey
yesterday
a carry out
to take away
cold night
corpse sleeps
newsprint blanket
cardboard cot
drunken dreamer
destitute
old at twenty
friend of mine
Frankie Vine
found dead
@ Pier Head.
AS21084
As submitted to Liverpool's Poem800 at: www.poem800.com

Gordon Blue...

BLUE MIDNIGHT.
Blue midnight
spent unconscious,
in rat route, rodent row.
A restauranteur
ejected from side door!
Move over rats and let
Gordon make his final bow
on the snow like surface glow
of rat route rodent row.
The rusted iron cladding
of escape ladders denying
any light the moon might
give the right to cast
her yellow path below.
ASPP1988

Previously published in StraightTalkingStreetTalkingSweet (c) Andy Sewina 1988

For Ruth...

HOLLYWOOD BOWLED OVER.
Gordon took the Freeway
airport bound.
A taxi ride to JFK
for the late flight to LA.
The traffic kept
the smog count high
And Gordon's gin, kept him.
A champagne party all the way
'till the touch down in LA
Then he staggered
to the nearest bar
just in time
for the 'Happy Hour'
Sunset Strip,
Gordon can't see,
Hollywood bowled over!
STSTSPP1991

Monday, October 16, 2006

Ratcatcher...

RATCATCHER...
Gordon's a drinker,
he likes to get off,
on his own
he goes to places that
even most wino's don't know
There's big rats
in New York City,
with rich pickings
in hotel trash.
Now, if rats will
eat pig-swill,
they may grow
as fat as pigs someday.
Over to you, Ratcatcher,
what have you found?
Gordon's asleep in a sewer!
Do you think he looks well?
I don't know, I don't think!
You do, to say what you said,
you just did.
Well, if pigs could fly,
we'd sure have a rat infested sky!

B4-1984
Please note that I have posted a re-written version of Ratcatcher on SweetTalkingGuy..

Music Street...

OK, THIS IS WHAT I DO!!!
MUSIC STREET...
Down on the street where
the puppy dogs meet

and the big dogs mate
by the back alley
where
Gordon met his fate
that's where the rats
come up for air
so watch your ankles
if you're strolling down there
and pull your hat
down over your eyes
or you'll think it's snowing
when the pigeons fly
I guess that's why
the boys wear boots
on Music Street
they're no good for dancing
but they keep your ankles
strapped to your feet
I said they're no good for dancing
but they keep your ankles
strapped to your feet.

101082
OK, IT'S YOUR TURN, PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT!

McFcuk

FIRST POST
Welcome to Straight talking, Street talking, Sweet... This being my first post, I'll tell you what the initials McFcuk stand for. They stand for Manchester City Football Club UK. Simple as that! That being said, this blogspot has nothing much to do with football. Well maybe, I'll give it a mention here and there. Anyway! you're going to have to come back to this address if you really want to find out what I do, as this is just a quick first post.
ABOUT ME.
My pen/stage name is Danny Wise. I write really bad rhymes. So bad I've been told, that my rhymes don't actually rhyme! How bad's that? Anyway, I published a few booklets of my rhymes several years ago and I used to recite a few of them in a couple of pubs and clubs. I even managed to sell a few copies over the years, mainly of my Salford stuff. Funnily enough I only lived in Salford for a couple of years but people always seem to remember me as a Salford Poet. My poetry got so bad at one stage that I decided to concentrate on song lyrics. I'll warn you now though, that I have written over six hundred song lyrics. Fortunately for you, a lot of them are indecipherable as they are scrawled on the back of envelopes and supermarket reciepts.
OSCAR WILDE.
In his story The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, the character in chapter 4 says: "Inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of second rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible." THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY, WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN LIPPINCOTTS MAGAZINE 6/3/1891.
MY PROFILE.
You can read my blogger profile if you clink the link aka Danny Wise in the green bit on the right hand side at the top of this page.

SweetTalkingGuy
My all new pub-poetry blog SweetTalkingGuy.. is now Online at: www.sewina.blogspot.com

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