Category: Music

Warm Red Wine

Warm, red wine
Goes to my head
Makes me forget that I
still need a friend…

I am not refrigerating red wine any more
I am not refrigerating red wine any more
I am not refrigerating red wine any more
I drink it at room temperature.


Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Drunk on warm red wine.


I fortify my red wine with some fortified red wine
I fortify my red wine with some fortified red wine
I fortify my red wine with some fortified red wine
Any port in a storm is what I say

Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Drunk on red wine fortified with fortified red wine


They have to call it Tawny, Port is appellation controlled.
They have to call it Tawny, Port is appellation controlled.
They have to call it Tawny, Port is appellation controlled.
But it mulls up just the same


Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Drunk on red wine fortified with fortified red wine


Tawny in the red wine warmed up in the microwave
Tawny in the red wine warmed up in the microwave
Tawny in the red wine warmed up in the microwave

It’s a short cut to inebriation mate.
Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Glory, glory what a hell of a way to go
Drunk on tawny red wine heated in the microwave


Mulled wine sends you off to sleep in a few seconds flat
Mulled wine sends you off to sleep in a few seconds flat
Mulled wine sends you off…

To sleep…

The Things We Do

Sorry, 10CC. It just doesn’t scan. Believe me, that was not the plan.

Too many businesses have been flushed down the gurgler
Too many golfing clubs bled dollars down the 18th hole
You tell your lies and then you just sell steaks
The things we do for cash, the things we do for cash

Misinformation is the problem to the answer
You sell alternative facts, your hand is held outstretched
University was just another con job
The lies we tell for nought, the lies we tell for nought

Like blaming rain at Aisne-Marne cemetery in Belleau
When you just really didn’t want to go
And you’re saying they were losers just for dying

And you’re looking for the next grift
You can use to fleece your cult
You have losses you must make up
And more mortgages to take up

Ooh you made them love you
Ooh you got away with it a while
Ooh you had her up against the wall
She said she would be quiet
But you would have to buy it…

You said you always grabbed them by the pussy
You said they always let you when you’re rich
But now she is a lying horse faced hussy
Just another money hungry bitch

You said it was a friendly insurrection
They were armed but they were never after you
And now they’ve gone and got themselves arrested
They’re all losers because they did not come through

A little honesty would help the situation
But you’re not sure just what that concept is
Accountability is such a complicated word
When after all it’s a matter of opinion
The things we do for power, the things we do for power.

Woe, Woe, and Thrice Woe

“If I be wicked, woe unto me; and if I be righteous, yet will I not lift up my head. I am full of confusion; therefore see thou mine affliction.”

Job:10

Woe, woe, woe said he
Woe me down the river
Verily, verily verily, verily
My brain is all aquiver

Schizophrenia is,
(In the sense that Alma Cogen isn’t)
I am the sea.
Forever, forever, forever…
Don’t ask me on a whiskey night
I’ll only weep, and that’s not right.

Train of thought
lost

With sincere apologies to Job, Frankie Howerd, Jeanne Mockford, Eliphalet Oram Lyte, Alma Cogen, Monty Python, Roger Daltry, Pete Townshend, Jon Anderson –
And all you readers. If this post got you googling then my work is done.


These words © ARF March 2023

Note;

This is the ONLY one of my poems I’ll even half-pie try to explain.
There’s quite a lot of quivering that goes on in my brain.

You Can Depend

Then:
I’ll always love you
And you can depend on me.

Now:
I’ve moved on
And so should you.
Be determined… to be free.

Oxford

I seem to be working through a bout of bitterness at present.

Hot days and nights. Inactivity. Too much time to think.

The music I listen to triggers memories and emotions.

I don’t want to be bitter. I can understand how some men become hateful misogynistic arseholes when they feel hard done by in the wake of a broken relationship. If I had behaved like an arsehole in the first place I might accept I deserve to be where I am. Maybe. If I really had been an arsehole I would probably be blind to the faults that led to me being deserving of the karma that has been wrought. I would still be an arsehole now.

Am I?

I play with words, and vent my spleen. It helps.

“Get a life” I tell myself. But my options are limited.

I garden, I cook, I chat with friends, neighbours and the checkout ladies. I exercise my limbs as the physio prescribed. I pedal my trike with assistance from an electric motor. I listen to music. I reminisce.

The irony; she depended on me.

This has been a “Dear Diary” post.

Oh look, there’s a skink traversing the drive and eying me warily.

I’m OK.

Burning Desire

Monday, Monday

I don’t like Mondays
Not so keen on Tuesdays
Or even Wednesdays
Thursdays piss me off
And Fridays make me frown
Don’t talk to me about the weekend
I want to burn the whole week down.

Staying Alight

Well, you can tell by the zippo in my hand
I’m a fire fiend, burn down the land
Smoking cloud and embers warm,
I’ve been lighting fires since I was born
And now it’s alright, it’s okay
And you may want to run away
We can only try to understand
The effect of fire on early man

Whether you are roasted or whether you are toasted
You’re stayin’ alight, stayin’ alight
Feel the city flarin’ and everybody scarin’
But it’s stayin’ alight, stayin’ alight
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alight, stayin’ alight
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alight!

I could go on
But I’m a merciful poet.

Envoi

To be ridiculed in parody
Is mostly complimentary
Not in this case, I must say
I’d rather look the other way.

Fire, I want you to burn

Dig It.

In another hemisphere, my Canadian gardening friends await the coming of spring. Why wait? Get started now.

If you dig the snow into the ground while planting seeds, once the thaw comes, the garden is prewatered and the seeds sprout.

Just remember
In the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed
That with the sun’s love
In the spring
Becomes the chrysanthemum
Or something which by any other name
Would be easier to spell.

I Just Can’t

Or, Terpsichore Lost

I cannot dance to any tune
I cannot dance at all
While others make the hall shake
I sit against the wall

I once danced with abandon
And rocked the dancehall floor
But since my heart was broken
I can’t dance any more

I once sang out for all to hear
With a tenor’s tessitura
Now my voice is cracked and old
Cacophony is purer

I used to sing my heart out
Now; not even in the shower
For since my heart was broken
Song has lost its power.

So, now I write bad poetry
And read the better sort
While everything I’ve done in life
In the end amounts to nought

Bonus Poem:

“In a Station of the Metro” (1913) ~ By Ezra Pound (1885-1972)

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

Uncredited.

Imagery. Mastered.

Eel Reprise

Remember my Amore series of poems? If not, follow the link for a reminder ~ and a treat.

I’m back with more.

🎼When you swim in the sea🎶
And an eel bites your knee
It’s…..
A conger

So you thought that should rhyme
with amore this time
I’m…..
A bad songer.

One who knows how it feels
To be bitten by eels?
A…..
Fishmonger.

I could go on all night
I still won’t I get it right
It’s…..
Just wronger.

It will only get worse
If I add one more verse
Plus…..
It’s longer.

I’m really not sure to whom I want to be compared after I die; James Thurber, Spike Milligan, Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, or Leo Tolstoy.

Bore

Why a boar’s head?

The Boar’s Head Carol

Caput apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino*

The boar’s head in hand bring I,
Bedeck’d with bays and rosemary.
I pray you, my masters, be merry
Quot estis in convivio. ¥

Caput apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino

The boar’s head, as I understand,
Is the rarest dish in all this land,
Which thus bedeck’d with a gay garland
Let us servire cantico €

Caput apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino*

Our steward hath provided this
In honor of the King of Bliss;
Which, on this day to be served is
In Reginensi atrio.^

Caput apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino*

* Lo, behold the head I bring
Giving praise to God we sing

¥ As you all feast so heartily

€. Let us serve with a song

^ In the Queen’s hall

Why is a Boar’s head mentioned in a Christmas carol? Why is it served in the Queens hall? Apparently, the Norse had custom of sacrificing a boar to their goddess of fertility, Freyja, at her midwinter feast. It seems that may be the origin.

So. Another Christian ceremony originating in pagan times.

An English Traditional Carol. First published 1521 by Wynken de Worde in Christmasse Carolles

Lyrics Source: William Henry Husk, Songs of the Nativity (London: John Camden Hotten, 1868)