Sockedelia

For Christmas (ages ago now, I know), I received no less than 25 pairs of socks. Many of them came in wonderful, colourful designs. This poem was inspired by some particularly mind-boggling socks. It’s also inspired by the fact that drugs are, basically, a waste of time. I want to clarify at this point that I’ve not actually ever taken drugs (beyond caffeine) but from what I’ve seen, I don’t think I’m missing anything.

I like to perform this with colourful socks as props which I place over my hands and use as sock puppets to deliver certain parts of the poem.

Sockedelia

I’ve never yet been persuaded
My perception could be better aided
By chemical agents

Not yet been convinced
To rinse my retinas
And see the absurd

Life is already bizarre
Far flung nations’ day to day existence
Is as alien to me as any drug induced vision
Standing up too fast when I’m tired
Inspires phenomenal out of body experiences
Besides
I carry my highs with me

My own toe twisting
Eyeball blistering
Rainbow fistula fallout

My own glimpse of inter-dimensional gyrations
Oh yes
I’m talking about wearable hallucinations

‘Cause I’ve seen shrooms
Vacuum packed into little
Individual snack sacks
Seen whacked out friends
Transported from their locked in heads
They said everything is just more UMMPH

And I’ve seen LSD
The temporary tattoo
Of hands tapping mindlessly
While eyes gaze at lights that are lighter
At colours that are colour-fuller

But I’m satisfied my eyes are well provided for
Why would I need Lucy in the Sky
When I have Susan Observing Clouds Killing Sumos?

No substances
No awakenings
No gurus please
Just allow me to demonstrate
My size 8, ambulatory, great illumination

Trigger warning: May cause flashbacks in the flower power generation

 

Only a mild legal high this evening

I Caught A Fish

A couple of months ago, I was sat in a park on the grass near a lake. Along the side of the lake were several men fishing. While nothing much was happening, it was strangely hypnotic to watch them. I remember very clearly thinking that it looked really peaceful and relaxing! But then it struck me that the fish would see it very differently.

What’s actually happening is that fish are being hunted and dragged from their home by a hook in their mouth. It’s fairly brutal when you look at it that way. This is a poem about the horrific reality of fishermen.

I Caught A Fish

I caught a fish with my own bare hands
Then threw him on the scorching sands
His brothers wept, his daughters fled
I served that fish with buttered bread

I caught a fish with a pointed stick
And struck it with a roundhouse kick
He tried to swim, it was no use
I served that fish with lemon juice

I caught a fish with a fishing rod
Then gave his teary wife a nod
For all his flops and flaps and flips
I served that fish with salted chips

I caught a fish with LSD
‘It’s over friend,’ he said to me
As tiny cherubs kissed his face
I served that fish with time and space

I caught this fish for £2.40 at the local chippy

Lana Del Rey

 

I have recently come to love Lana Del Rey‘s music. It’s just so very different to anything else out there! However much I enjoy it though, it can’t be denied that it’s fairly miserable given that her usual topics involve domestic violence, greed and death. I’m not convinced though. I think ‘Lana Del Rey’ is a semi-fictional character, just like Ziggy Stardust was. This is my affectionate tribute to Lana Del Rey

Lana Del Rey

I’m Lana Del Rey
My mouth is real big
My honey punched my kidneys
And he’s smoking a cig

Don’t forget my name
I’m Lana Del Rey
I like to get high
And pout all day

I’ve got a lot of money
I’d like a lot more
I’m Lana Del Rey
And my life is a bore

My honey broke my spine
But babe it’s ok
‘Cause I love you to death and
I’m Lana Del Rey

I think my picture got a good likeness actually

Gandalf

J R R Tolkien was a phenomenal writer with a beautiful gift for language. The Lord of the Rings is an incomparable epic. It’s also serious nerd fuel. Along with Star Trek, Doctor Who, Game of Thrones and many other sci-fi/fantasy classics, it inspires some fairly unhealthy levels of devotion which can be embarrassing to watch. But what if the lines between reality and fantasy began to blur? What if you couldn’t be sure what was real and what was a dream? Who knows eh? Here’s a poem about Gandalf.

Gandalf

Gandalf wept as he swept through the streets
All lost, All lost
White cloth was flapping and flowed round his feet
Double crossed, double crossed

He flew up the road in a terrible rage
Must fly, must fly
Preparing to battle the bane of the age
Great eye, great eye

He came to the gates and cried Let me come through!
Steel clad, steel clad
The Guards said We’ve got medication for you
Quite mad, quite mad

He threw back the doors and ran into the halls
Come back, come back
You’re not really Gandalf, you’re just tripping balls
Old quack, old quack

Gandalf is known for his sweet magnetic powers