Category Archives: Music

Leaving Me Is Easy

Leaving Me Is Easy.jpg

This is certainly one of the more stupid poems I’ve written recently. This evolved from a jokey conversation with my girlfriend in which I said that the one downside of never having broken up with someone is that I’ll never fully understand Phil Collins. I asked if we could try a temporary, messy breakup. She declined.

This poem is about an obsession for understanding gone wrong. It is a spoken word interlude in my ongoing epic work ‘The Phil Collins Saga’. Other poems in this story can be found in the ‘Longer Projects’ category. I have placed links to the songs referenced in this poem at the bottom of this post.

Leaving Me Is Easy


Words are little more than ordered sound
And yet, they touch

Reach deep inside
And wrench out tears
That you knew should have been shed
But never knew what you were saving them for

See words are little more than ordered sound
But so is music
And one man’s words and music
Reach deeper
Wrench harder
Rapidly dismantled
I can only whisper his name

…Phil Collins
…Phil Collins
…Phil Collins

Just a word
Little more than ordered sound
But so is music
And oh what music

I put a record on
Because I’m trendy
And the end catches the needle
So the record spins
And I am at the centre
And a song begins
And I am at the centre
And another record
Sound surrounds me
And I am at the centre
And another


I’ve forgotten everything about you
Til someone says your name
…ur name …ur name …ur name
Words I know catch in my throat

These words are little more than ordered sound

Words I know but do not feel
Words I will not, cannot understand
Unknown pain
The first world problems
Of a man who’s never had a breakup
Let alone a messy one

I’ve forgotten all the reasons
I loved you
Little more than ordered sound and so
A phone call
Would you mind dumping me?
What? Why?
Just to try it
I need to know, I need to feel
I need to make these words real
Just for a while
A trial
A temporary mess
Dump me, make it bad
She says that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard

And those words? Now they hurt
They hurt bad and so
There’s no way out of this dark place
No hope, no future

Nah but really
Nobody’s that absurd
And words are little more than ordered sounds
But so is music
And they needn’t be owned to be known
And so I
Put another record on
Put another record on
Put another record on
Put another record on


Even Phil thinks I’m an idiot

If Leaving Me Is Easy
I’ve Forgotten Everything
No Way Out
Another Record (Genesis)


The Bluekelele

Blukelele 001.jpg

Last year, I started teaching myself to play the ukulele. I bought a cheap, blue ukulele off my friend and named it the Bluekelele. This poem is not a true telling of my time with the Bluekelele. I just liked the word so I wanted to use it!

The Bluekelele

A ukulele player brought
His instrument around
Bright blue, of wood and plastic wrought
It made a tinny sound
My Bluekelele’s singing
Do you hear the words it’s saying?
Do you hear the chords I’m Playing?
Do you feel the joy it’s bringing?

‘Bluekelelist,’ I replied,
‘Get gone, get lost, get packing
Aught in which you should take pride
Your instrument is lacking’
My Bluekelele’s crying
Do you see the tears it’s shedding?
Do you sense the dark it’s dreading?
Do you see the death it’s dying?

‘Enough of that,’ I swiftly snapped,
‘No need for melodrama!’
Upon the instrument I rapped
‘My words  aren’t gonna harm ‘er’
My Bluekelele’s grieving
Do you hear the noise it’s making?
Do you feel the heart that’s breaking?
Do you see that we are leaving?

And just like that, the man was gone
The Bluekelele too
And yet, as he was walking on
I thought I heard it coo
By all you hold above you
Don’t you know what you’re declining?
Don’t you care that I’m resigning?
Don’t you know how much I love you?

I chased, but of my own accord
When offered love, I’d sinned
All that remained, a fading chord
A whisper on the wind
My Bluekelele’s screaming
Do you hear it’s torn apart?
Do you see you held it’s heart?
Do you see the tears still streaming?

Months on from this, I made amends
I bought a Newkelele
I gathered all my dearest friends
And took them to a ceilidh
My Newkelele’s singing
Do you hear the words it’s saying?
Do you hear the chords I’m playing?
Do you feel the joy it’s bringing?


It’s ok. He’s a glasses half full kinda guy


Invisible Touch

Invisible Touch

Phil Collins recently announced the exciting news that he is coming out of retirement! He’s promising a new album and even a tour! Needless to say, I was overwhelmed by this news, so I thought it was time to post another poem from the Phil Collins Saga. You can find some others under the ‘Longer Projects’ category. An assassin has been hired by the forces of light who have been forced to resort to cruel methods to end Collins’ reign of terror. However it may seem, this poem is not the end of the story.

Invisible Touch

His feet were silent
Light as air
The river running dark and brown
He crept along
The narrow bank
His task; to take Phil Collins down

So many ways
To do the deed
Shoot, smother, poison, stab, or drown
He slipped into
An alleyway
At dusk to take Phil Collins down

His blue robe trailing
Whispers soft
This figure haunts the old Swiss town
Two velvet gloves
Upon the hands
He’ll use to take Phil Collins down

The house now breached
Phil Collins found
Resplendent in his dressing gown
A shadow looming
Rush of air
He’s here to take Phil Collins down

The job done swiftly
Scarce a scream
The blue assassin stops to frown
For life’s one purpose
All his days
Had been to take Phil Collins down

But now returning
Bringing death
His handiwork of some renown
With vigour now
A righteous goal
His task; take Eric Clapton down

He suspects nothing

He suspects nothing

Maurice UnRaveling

Maurice UnRaveling

For November, I’m going to post a non-rhyming poem every week! Pretty much all of my poetry rhymes so this may not go very well. We’ll see what happens.

Music is a wonderful gift. I am almost constantly listening to music of some kind but, every now and then, a song or piece of music comes along that is so beautiful that you find yourself incapable of functioning whilst listening to it. This can sometimes have unfortunate consequences.

Maurice UnRaveling

A chord of four strands
Binds my hand nowhere in particular
But anywhere other than my pen

Binds my eyes closed
Hoiks my brow up

Binds my lips together
Pulls air suddenly through my nose

Binds all the neurones in my brain
But those with square receptors

Until it snaps

Then my hand scrambles for the page
As my eyes fly open
This is due in at 5
But my brain just fell out of my bum

The cause of many a last minute submission

The cause of many a last minute submission

Bring Me Phil Collins

Bring Me Phil Collins

‘Bring Me Phil Collins’ began life as a silly stand alone poem about nothing in particular. However, it is the seed from which the idea for the Phil Collins Saga grew. I explained it briefly in the introduction for another poem from the cycle that I posted here. ‘Bring Me Phil Collins’ is the introduction to the cycle of poems in which Death calls for Phil Collins to be brought to him.

Bring Me Phil Collins

Bring me Phil Collins he cried
Place him at my feet
With saucy tales his talent is belied
This is a man I would meet

Yes, bring me Phil Collins he cried
Throw him to the ground
Forgotten now by popular tide
When once he was renowned

So, bring me Phil Collins he cried
Bear him to my throne
Too long has my patience been tried
Too long have I sat here alone

Now, bring me Phil Collins he cried
Stand him in the court
For this is the place he’ll forever reside
As a bean of burden ought

It's no good trying to hide Phil. Everyone can see you.

It’s no good trying to hide, Phil. Everyone can see you.

Something Happened On The Way To Heaven

Something Happened On The Way To Heaven

Following my recent semi-theme of poems about musical legends, I thought I’d share one concerning Phil Collins. Whatever jokes in my previous posts may suggest, I am a huge fan of Phil Collins’ work both in Genesis and as a solo artist. This poem is part of a project I’ve been working on for a couple of years now, which I am currently calling ‘The Phil Collins Saga’. The Phil Collins Saga features a fictionalised version of Phil Collins who is essentially a pathetic loser (please note ‘fictionalised version’. I don’t want to be sued.). He makes a deal with Death who promises him fame, wealth, and popularity. In return, Death is able to control the minds of billions of people worldwide through Phil’s music. It’s a story about greed, friendship, and the consequences of our actions. ‘Something Happened On The Way To Heaven’ finds Phil at the peak of his power and influence over the minds of his fans.

Something Happened On The Way To Heaven

We had a life
He starts the show
We had a love
The trumpets blow
But something happened…
Lights are low

Then suddenly grow brighter

The old bean gazes
At his crowd
The brass is blaring
High and loud
And Phil just sits there
Vain and proud

He’ll make it an all-nighter

The people scream
And bleat like sheep
The women shout
As grown men weep
Collapsing in
A sobbing heap

While others start undressing

The power of
The reaper’s deal:
They cease the roar
And start to kneel
Believing he’s
The power to heal

They clamour for his blessing

He strides upon
The upturned palms
Inducing tears
Inspiring psalms
Then others rush
To lick the arms

Of those on whom he trod

His face now glows
With holy light
His shining bonce
A wondrous sight
He bids them all
A blessed night

Then leaves the stage a God

It's very hard to sleep with you all watching me like that Phils

It’s very hard to sleep with you all watching me like that Phils

David Bowie

David Bowie



From Kate Bush to another musical legend. David Bowie, also known as the coolest man on Earth, is a musical hero of mine. Such brilliant performances and dedication to doing things however the hell he wants are becoming increasingly rare qualities in musicians these days. That being said, Bowie has not always treated himself particularly well. A life of sex, drugs and rock and roll can really take it’s toll. Luckily, he seems to have sorted himself out now.

He has a crazy eye which, along with his sometimes extravagant stage outfits, gives him a very striking appearance. His voice is also unique. So unique,  that it has been parodied many times including by Adam Buxton and Joe Cornish in their old podcast. It is from Adam and Joe that I have borrowed the phrase ‘wuzza wuzza’.

This poem/song is a tribute to the huge cultural impact of Mr Bowie

David Bowie

That jumpsuit! ha! HA!
Way too loose
(Keep swinging) but ah-wuzza wuzza
Wuzza the use?

Way too cool now
Tone it down!
(Keep swinging) but ah-wuzza wuzza
Wuzza the town?

Get some rest dude
Pale as paste!
(Keep swinging) but ah-wuzza wuzza
Wuzza the waste?

Those aren’t even words Zig
You’re seriously ill!
(Keep swinging) but ah-wuzza wuzza
Wuzza the pill?

Get yourself help Dave
Thing of your health
(Keep swinging) but ah-wuzza wuzza
Wuzza wuzza wuzza wuzza
Wuzza wuzza wuzza wuzza
Wuzza yourself?

Put on your red shoes and dance the blues

Put on your red shoes and dance the blues