1. |
Hall of Fame
01:21
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I am the curator
Of my own hall of fame
All of the best fighters
Honored with a portrait
When big scarred men appear
To accept their place in history
I grin from ear to ear
Asleep on my desktop
I don’t want to meet the stars
I just want to watch them turn up
I don’t want to be the boss
Just flecked with the blood from the big man’s glove
The glove that’s connected to the arm
That’s connected to the ribcage surrounding the heart
All of the hall that I have in my head give heart to a sport that means nothing at all
I don’t want to meet the stars
I just want to watch them turn up
I don’t want to be the boss
Just flecked with the blood from the big man’s glove
Just flecked with the blood from the big man’s glove
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2. |
Shock Site
01:47
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One evening in the bedroom of a friend
you show me a hidden world
A dark stream running underneath
the pavement that we walk upon
A crisp smile is on your mouth but not in your eyes
I think about the way that room smelled for the rest of my life
In a sexual congress, two naïve teenagers
Without ever really touching, but rubbing nonetheless
In the glow of the CRT you grow inside of me
Shock site scrolling in reflection on my glasses endlessly
This is not first time porno watching with Finn Bibby in his mother’s study
Ice cube slowly melting, watching a beheading
One evening in the bedroom of a friend you show me a hidden world
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3. |
Chicken
03:12
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Driving down a single lane road I met
A woman in a dark blue Volkswagen
There was no safe place for us to pass
Playing at the game of chicken
A slow crash coming any day
Cannot be avoided
Standing at the side of the road with our hands on our hips
Two winners at the game of chicken
My hand automatically raises up in a salute
At an unknown number of magpies roosting in a bush
Thieving little birds
Thieving little birds
Thieving little birds
The crows move across this field like a search party
A CD skips in the dark blue beetle
A slow crash coming any day
Cannot be avoided
The spinning of a CD skipping
The winning of a game of chicken
Metal hulks lying in the lane
Beetles on their backs
Wriggling in vain
As real as superstition flying on the wing
As real as anything
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4. |
Talking on the Phone
02:08
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The smoke of an aeroplane tumbling out of the sky –
I do not clock it
All of the animals slithering out of their holes –
I cannot see them
I am talking on the phone to you
I am talking on the phone to you
I am talking on the phone somewhere in the warm air
I cannot feel the absence of my keys in my pocket – I cannot feel it
Or the absence of the dog that has run across the dual carriageway – I cannot see him
I am talking on the phone to you
I am talking on the phone to you
I am talking on the phone somewhere in the warm air
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5. |
Dirt Bike
02:38
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You came up to me at work
Said there was something you’d been thinking of
Something that you’d rather talk about outside
So I unhooked my coat
Shut my computer down and wrote a note
To my boss saying I’d be leaving early on lunch
You started talking fast as soon as soon as you got out the door
I said ‘hold up, could you slow down. I do not understand’
Lift door is closing
Telling myself this is nothing
This is definitely nothing
I am panicking for nothing
You started talking fast as soon as soon as you got out the door
I said ‘hold up, could you slow down. I do not understand’
And you did, but I still couldn’t hear a thing
There was a kid on a dirt bike
Coming loudly up behind
You started talking fast as soon as soon as you got out the door
I said ‘hold up, could you slow down. I do not understand’
And you did, but I still couldn’t hear a thing
There was a kid on a dirt bike
Coming loudly up behind
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6. |
Sitting on my Chest
03:06
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Stream running round
My hairy ankles
They’re going numb in
Icy December water running round
I cannot feel
My crooked toe or crooked thought
Running through my mind and gathering weight: a snowball made of bitter ice it seems
I cackle to myself
But when you’re sitting on my chest all the muscles in my arms and legs relax
I sink into the bed when you’re lying on my chest
With numb body parts slimy from the stream
I walk home to the warmest o worn in sheets
You roll onto your back like a pup
You vibrate like an electric toothbrush
Putting my foot into a slipper I
Feel something warm and wriggling
It is a bat with half its wing chewed off
It is a gift you bought me
But when you’re sitting on my chest all the muscles in my arms and legs relax
I sink into the bed when you’re lying on my chest
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7. |
Thin
02:21
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Thin thin thin
Thin is the canvas spread on the floor of the ring
Thin thin
Taught from where that body fell again
Patience wearing thin
Eyes open at four AM searching
For that perfect stream
Crystal water flowing over me
Thin is everything
Thin sheet pegged on the line against the wind
Arms are brittle thin
Skull can’t keep anything out like
The greatest show on Earth
It is the only show I know
Always yearning
To see that glove connected
To be knocked down on an arse that isn’t yours
Thin thin thin
Somebody else’s tested chin
Somebody else’s will to win
I’m a human being with nothing in
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8. |
Tannoy
02:48
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I am a train guard working Southwestern
I don’t like my job, but I have my fun
I like to make a joke out of my boredom
On the tannoy
But today I don’t feel like joking at all
I stayed up all night
Watched the big fight
I watched Gerald McClellan fall
If Don King wasn’t such an evil man
If the Dark Destroyer didn’t have such a big right hand
The people sat like sardines on this morning train
Would not be in silence as they sped through the rain
I forgive you
Now that you have all the time in the world
Is there room for Nigel Benn in your heart
If you overstep your mark you are pushed down in the dirt
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9. |
Perfect Stranger
01:56
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Is that pickup in your driveway just like it used to be?
Your dad’s Mitsubishi truck resting heavy on its leaf springs
A drunk walk down your road remembering where you lived
Is that pickup in your driveway holding all our empty cans?
Doing perfect backflips on your trampoline
Patch of dead grass where it used to be
I creep closer to the window
You are nowhere to be seen
I sneak round the back
Crunching on the crumbled concrete
This is the moment that I realize I have gone too far hear
An uncalled for weird stare through the window of the kitchen
Doing perfect backflips on your trampoline
Patch of dead grass where it used to be
Somebody draws the curtain
It is not you
It is a perfect stranger
I am in their garden rooted to the spot
Beer can in my hand looking at them straight in the eye
Perfect stranger
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10. |
Searching for a Stream
02:13
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Cobwebs spreading from the space under the desk
In the basement flat I am the only tenant
I never thought I was an empath now
But I get this feeling I mistake for self doubt
As I try and find a stream of a football game
No I don’t support a team, I don’t care who wins
Because I’ve been let down time and time again
I haven’t seen you for a million years
Big fake eyelashes wet with tears
When we first met you were five years old
Now the crow’s feet spread from your eyes like a spider’s web
You can’t get happiness on your own
I don’t think happiness happens at all
When you’re not in touch with the physical world
When you don’t need a body just a brain
So we’ll set off on a long earned holiday
Down the canal on a boat full of wine
Dressed like children playing video games
In the space in-between the sofa and the TV set
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11. |
Pool Ball
02:38
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Grabbing hold of a small thing smooth and round from the table
I am holding a pool ball in the palm of my hand
My whole hand is filled up
All of its volume
So often unfilled by cutlery or pen
My plan is to throw it
Across the school field
That I’ve broken back onto
I am 18
A field is a venue, it’s nothing at all
A space to be taken by throwing a ball
Apple on a tree, pool ball in the hand
It flies through the air and makes holes in the ground
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12. |
Valley
02:41
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Walking with the dogs very late at night
Across the valley
a curious point of light
Waiting for a train
Slice the sky up
Some hope of glimpsing passengers
No luck, I missed the last one
Beyond the railway bridge the strange light still beams
Is it some home waiting for a visitor each night?
Is it a hole under the hill full of demons?
If I walk to the source of the light will I be made welcome?
Will there be fresh sheets to soil?
Fresh table linen to befoul with mess?
Will there be a door?
Will there be anything at all?
I arrive at the light
The dogs run in circles around it
A telephone mast under maintenance
The operatives left their spotlight on
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Garden Centre Brighton, UK
At first we met in the greenhouse, then progressed to the dump. Now we are in a hole.
gardencentreband@gmail.com
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