Picking Cherries from a Thorn Bush…

I had a small epiphany last night – a song came on the radio that ordinarily wouldn’t get my attention; I admit my hand quivered over the off knob. Yet I recoiled… there was a lyric in said song I found interesting nay almost profound. I lay awake later that night compiling a list born of my insomnia of good things born of a bad source:

A ray of light that bursts through the clouds on a dull day, the cream on a Bird’s Trifle (there as your reward for enduring the sponge and jelly), freewheeling down a hill after a punishing ascent, Natasha Kaplinksy’s flawless face in the trash that was Channel 5 news (feel free to disagree). Then there’s John Sergeant – it’s hard to look at him and not feel bilious – yet he’s so articulate and endearing I’d rather go the pub with him and be regaled over a guinness than have the company of a taut bodied, brainless bimbette who requires everything explained to her at every turn (at least I think I’d rather).

For what it’s worth – the song that gave me my ‘mini moment’ was ‘Womanizer’ by Britney… and the lyric ‘the swagger of a superstar’.



addendum: Britney didn’t write the song – Nikesha Briscoe, Rafael Akinyemi did so. That figures.

“Every You Every Me”

Sucker love is heaven sent.
You pucker up, our passion’s spent.
My hearts a tart, your body’s rent.
My body’s broken, yours is bent.
Carve your name into my arm.
Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed.

Cause there’s nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.

Sucker love, a box I choose,
No other box I choose to use.
Another love I would abuse,
No circumstances could excuse.
In the shape of things to come.
Too much poison come undone.

Cause there’s nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,

Every Me…he

Sucker love is known to swing.
Prone to cling and waste these things.
Pucker up for heavens sake.
There’s never been so much at stake.
I serve my head up on a plate.
It’s only comfort, calling late.

Cause there’s nothing else to do,
Every me and every you.
Every me and every you,

Every Me…he

Every me and every you,

Every Me…he

 Like the naked leads the blind.
I know I’m selfish, I’m unkind.
Sucker love I always find,
Someone to bruise and leave behind.
All alone in space and time.
There’s nothing here but what here’s mine.

Something borrowed, something blue.
Every me and every you.

Every me and every you,

Every Me…he

Every me and every you,

Every Me…he

Hellboy 2 Golden Army

My observations are sometimes punched into me –  not physically, but fed serially by a fist that sits on a jackhammer… oft six, seven or eight syllables drum themselves prosodically into my mind’s memory silos…. take 2012 for example…

The Royal Courts of the mogul emperors.

Gibb in a coma with pneumonia.

Grotesque scenes in a place of worship.

Rafeal defended it well.

London Council social cleansing.

No Claims Discount Validation.

Rare earth magnets in orthodontics.

The pain and bulk of a whalebone corset.

Soon it’s the Queen’s diamond Jubilee.

Barton rants at Alan shearer.

Snorkel parka music practice room.

Mother killed in pushchair accident.

How long does a macbook battery last?

Alan Hansen’s forehead injury.

What a strike from Theo Walcott.

Don’t give yourself a Hitler parting.

Porcupine creek in Southeast Alaska.

Trapped in public storage facility.

Almighty change that’s fast approaching.

Sour cream chives and a slice of cucumber.

Di Matteo axe reaction.

Shocking scenes of storm hit Britain.

A mélange, a mish mash of all sorts at/on first glimpse/glance; a chronological list, evident maybe to the keener eyed, but there’s a rhythm too in there to be picked out whose beats repeat and compound themselves. Not to mention the psyche of its author. Another diffidently raised hand.

How green are you?

Do Kermit and The Hulk look pale in your emerald shadow? Is the Green-eyed Monster envious of your carbon footprint? All my answers to that are now YES. Constant nagging from the media and green planatics has had me adapt my life somewhat to harmonise me with their eco wishes and appease their sensibilities. For them (and a greater being too); a list of my good deeds that’ll hopefully have me looked favourably upon:

1. I’ve ripped out my lungs to cut my carbon emissions and now source my energy from my genetically modified photosynthetic skin; side-effect is I’m more jaded now than jaundiced; It’s not easy being green, but hey, it’s for the greater good.

2. I now recycle all my waste by eating it (recurrently). A perpetual ‘motion’ machine if you like; any spare energy is fed back into the grid.

3. I ride to work (on an old christmas tree (technology courtesy of a witch I know) in the wake and on the vapour trails of airliners. My dalliance with these beasts of the sky has me scooping up their exhaust gasses as I surf the turbulence and hurtling all that’s harmful in them into space.

Incidentally – after touching down at my office…

4. I settle into my work as a wind turbine cranker; heavy going, then again, I was never told it’d be a breeze. But lunchtimes are my own, it is then I flip the lid of my geothermal laptop and log into my account as an agent for an extremist splinter cell – an offshoot (very green one) of Greenpeace to dot the i’s and cross the t’s on the plot of the carbon economy’s downfall. But shhh Mum’s the word.

The Green Goddess come the Rapture and the Ozone Hole Apocalypse will hopefully now spare me.

Brighter Planet's 350 Challenge

Welcome to My World – not mine…Gore’s and Gahan’s

Welcome To My World – Martin L. Gore

Welcome to my world
Step right through the door
Leave your tranquilisers at home 
You don’t need them anymore
All the drama queens have gone
And the devil got dismayed
He packed up and fled this town
His master plan delayed

And if you stay a while
I’ll penetrate your soul
I’ll bleed into your dreams
You’ll want to lose control
I’ll weep into your eyes
I’ll make your visions sing
I’ll open endless skies
And ride your broken wings
Welcome to my world
Welcome to my world
Welcome to my world

We’ll watch the sunrise set
And the moon begin to blush
Our naked innocence
Translucently too much
And I’ll hold you in my arms 
And keep you by my side
And we’ll sleep the devil’s sleep
Just to keep him satisfied


* cheers for the corrections