Hello! It's ten years in September since my team of mad actors began filming Sutton Park with me and the third volume of poems THIRD TIME LUCKY contains at least a couple of pieces inspired by our video series. (Which ran regularly from 1992-2000 for over 3000 episodes and is now winding itself down to closure.) If you don't know what "Sutton Park" is then I shall explain another time. The following poem is based on a catchphrase that my good friend Mr Nick Goodman came up with whilst filming - it is called ANOTHER PATHETIC ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT and relates to episodes where his character nearly got assassinated in lots of strange and peculiar ways... The other poem inspired by the series is called THE PARK and is slightly darker - this one is another silly little ditty... :)
Enjoy!
ANOTHER PATHETIC ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT.
If no success -
At first they say!
Knock 'em off -
Another day!
The slightest push…
A nudge or shove…
A feather dropped -
From high above…
A falling leaf -
Banana Skin…
Fiendish plotting -
Evil grin!
A Secret Smile -
Way cunning plans -
Panto villains -
Flinging flans!
Lacklustre words -
Not filled with bile -
A nemesis -
Who's only "vile"…
Oh, please try harder -
Vent your spleen!
Dirty habits -
Way too clean…
Sights lined up -
Full of contempt!
Another pathetic -
Botched attempt!
Laid up in bed -
And worse for wear!
Singe-d moustache -
And vacant stare!
One more try -
Then light the fuse!
Blow yourself up!
Means -
You lose.
Time-bomb conker!
Mousetrap gone!
Failed assassin!
Means -
THEY WON!
Thursday, June 13, 2002
Tuesday, June 11, 2002
Apologies for not writing much or keeping you updated since my return - but I have good news! My third volume of poems (the last until at least late in the year) is almost ready for release. It's going to be called THIRD TIME LUCKY and features 50 new compositions. These will include a number of the ones available on the site so far. THIRD TIME LUCKY should be ready by late July 2002, maybe before and will cost exactly 250 pennies... (That's £2.50 to you nice people...) Most of the poems on this site are silly ones but the one below is a little different (in fact all three volumes are about 50:50 funny:serious verse anyway. The one included below is called OWN GOAL? and it's about football widows - so it's kinda topical now... I hope you find it worth reading... Paul x
OWN GOAL?
He's gone…
Taking the children…
Leaving the house silent…
Off to the Rec again.
Last Match of the Season.
Been a good one for them all…
She sits alone in the front room…
Waving vaguely from behind the net curtains…
Receiving only the clang of the garden gate…
But receiving it gratefully.
She turns away…
Gazing coldly at the housework left to her…
The upturned toys…
Dusty book shelves…
Dirty plates and un-hoovered hallways…
They can wait.
She lights a cigarette…
Loosens her hair from constraint…
Lets it caress her face defiantly…
Mother knows best.
She picks up her mobile…
Engages the directory…
Calls the number…
Smiling at the voice in reply…
The meeting's still on.
Football widows.
Football widowers.
With nothing -
And nobody -
Better to do.
Something has been arranged.
She's playing away from home today.
One for sadness -
Two is hearty!
Three's a crowd.
But four's a PARTY!
Putting away the phone.
Her mind is reeling with the anticipation.
Another challenge mounted.
An Off-side crowd-pleaser.
No penalty - no Foul play!
Nobody to tell her what to do…
She makes ready.
Shrugging on her coat inside-out…
Too excited to notice…
Grabs her bag -
As she applies a spot of lippy -
Smiling at herself in the hall mirror…
She'll do.
Kickoff - 3:30…
Own goal?
OWN GOAL?
He's gone…
Taking the children…
Leaving the house silent…
Off to the Rec again.
Last Match of the Season.
Been a good one for them all…
She sits alone in the front room…
Waving vaguely from behind the net curtains…
Receiving only the clang of the garden gate…
But receiving it gratefully.
She turns away…
Gazing coldly at the housework left to her…
The upturned toys…
Dusty book shelves…
Dirty plates and un-hoovered hallways…
They can wait.
She lights a cigarette…
Loosens her hair from constraint…
Lets it caress her face defiantly…
Mother knows best.
She picks up her mobile…
Engages the directory…
Calls the number…
Smiling at the voice in reply…
The meeting's still on.
Football widows.
Football widowers.
With nothing -
And nobody -
Better to do.
Something has been arranged.
She's playing away from home today.
One for sadness -
Two is hearty!
Three's a crowd.
But four's a PARTY!
Putting away the phone.
Her mind is reeling with the anticipation.
Another challenge mounted.
An Off-side crowd-pleaser.
No penalty - no Foul play!
Nobody to tell her what to do…
She makes ready.
Shrugging on her coat inside-out…
Too excited to notice…
Grabs her bag -
As she applies a spot of lippy -
Smiling at herself in the hall mirror…
She'll do.
Kickoff - 3:30…
Own goal?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)