Somethong and Nothong

Half of what I was going to say has just got lost in my head but that's  alright nobody is listening or reading anyway (and if you are, many blessings on you x) yet I may as well write here because otherwise I would just talk it to myself.

(I must stop putting 'just' in sentences.)

I love poetry, and songwriting, and I do particularly enjoy making something out of what appeared to be nothing. (Or as my typing fingers seem insistent on tonight somethong out of nothong. Actually - that's another word I overuse - that's the title of this bit now.) And let's make an individual list of the words we all use too much. Those words are our frailties and foibles.

Here's mine, obviously there's more:

Obviously

Actually

Just

Simple

Not Necessarily

Perhaps

There's lots more.

I don't know how to do a comments bit yet, so pretend if you want. That's what I do, a lot. X

I have to say I do not get to fuck

Here is the original poem, bit, start, whatever we call it

2010

That Is That

If woman have record no.

Of babies in their 40s

How come I cannot have sex

Even in my 30s

Or 40s? –

I’m not going out Again –

I’m not drinking Again –

I’m reading every book in my house

And That is That.

Presume some report goaded me into this. It lacks venom, anger, it lacks me being unfucked, I would say. Not too interesting.

Maybe just move the words around and see if it can be made into something stupid.

woman in her 30s

has 40 books

in my house

and is not going

out again, she says

that is that,

and calls all 

my records

her babies

I drink again

when all i want 

to do is fuck

but my songs

and her stories

don't straddle well

I like that. X

Tossed Songs

Nothing should be discarded if you write.

I can remember the titles of songs I threw into the big black binliners, song after song.

My Friend Ed The Boxer was the first song I wrote. It was based on a Madness' tune, presumably Baggy Trousers but now I can't be certain. It's gone. Maybe that's ok. Other's I've tried resurrecting. Here's a list, of what comes to memory:

A Picture of Tomorrow

The Laird of the Semtex

I Could Join The Statues In The Square

Heaven Needs An Aviator Tonight

The Grand Old Men

Looking North From Comolungma

Another Scalp For Cleopatra

On My Stream, Floating

Any Last Regrets

Hey, Mr.Time

Sigh A Day Away

Sweetest String

so many others.

As I said I've tried my best to revivivify some. (Revivivify, having that.) But there's lots more.

I know I'm talking about songs when it is meant to be junked poetry, but to me they are the same, the voice, sound, communication. And just making a noise for the thrill of being able to.

Next, I promise I will get onto poetry.