Posts Tagged Poem
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May 20, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Father & Son (Pt. II)
When the old man had his best mate in town – guy who’d played drums in his band well, suddenly everything I’d ever done with music – every radio appearance, every interview, and those pesky review controversies, it was all up for grabs. Topics for conversation. Pride too. It was all, “remember when…” and “what about that time…” and “didn’t you also speak to…” and “you saw them didn’t you…” Not […]Archive
May 18, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: In Turn
I’m very good at talking myself out of jobs. That should actually be my next job. I wonder if they need someone capable of talking themselves out of jobs… And what value that could bring? And what the hours are? And whether you need previous experience? Anyway, I wouldn’t be good enough at it. It […]Archive
May 15, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Fleetwood Mac
The soap-opera of Fleetwood Mac has had me hooked since I was about 10 or 12. There was a doco – a bit of late-night music-TV that filled in all the blanks. I was, as a kid, already a fan, but I had no idea how the same band that sang Sara and Sweet Little Lies had jammed out an instrumental called Albatross. My brother recorded this thing called Fleetwood […]Archive
May 13, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Apparently Doris Day Was A Bit of A Cunt
Doris Day died today, I’m gonna get so drunk, Case of Syrah, Syrah. Actually, for her it was more a temperamental journey, I heard she wasn’t always so nice. But you’ll not hear that in most of the eulogies – only that she protected Rock Hudson when he couldn’t come out. Whereas she was largely out for herself – despite the idea that she was the girl next door. When actually she was […]Archive
May 13, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Gig Review: Luke Wright (May 13, Wgtn)
Luke Wright Meow; Wellington Monday, May 13 I call it a “Gig Review” – but it’s a poetry reading. Still, “Gig Review” seems to suit, poetry reading suggests something staid, safe, possibly boring. Not even the chance with one of the UK’s finest modern poetic voices – Luke Wright. Here for writers/readers festivals and Wellington was […]Archive
May 13, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Weekend Fun
Saturday morning, the kid in bed, I’m telling stories of the things I did when I was his age, silly stuff that he’ll laugh at and repeat – and then he’ll ask me to repeat it so he can get the exact wording and copy my voice. Saturday afternoon, we’re watching a film. Pause, rewind, watch the funny bit again. And again – and again and then wait for more funny bits…expectantly. Hopeful. Saturday […]Archive
May 11, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Luke Wright – Poet: Reading at Meow, Wellington, Monday, May 13, 2019
Verb Wellington is bringing poet Luke Wright to the capital city this coming Monday, May 13. I’ve just recently finished reading Luke Wright’s volume The Toll – and it contains six or seven of the very best poems I’ve ever read. Which is a phenomenal strike-rate. He has aspects of Stewart Lee and Roger McGough to his […]Archive
May 9, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: No Longer Killing Me Softly With This Song
A bottle of wine goes down fine, the recycling bin clinks because of our drinks – life sometimes stinks – which is the reason we sink so much time and cash and health down the drain. For the chance to escape – to not seem the same, to not seem so sane, to take pause from our brain. Bacon smells a bit like piss when you fry it hard. […]Archive
May 7, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: A Bed For The Night In New Plymouth After The R.E.M. Gig
We drove to New Plymouth to see R.E.M. It rained the whole way and we had no accommodation booked. We thought we’d just find something when we got there. But everyone else had a similar plan. Or had already planned. So we drove around the town trying to work out what to do – suddenly […]Archive
May 5, 2019 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: This Poem Will Make You Want A Quarterpack With A Snack Burger On The Side
If you want a lesson in how to survive Cancel Culture just take a look at KFC. They wanted the word ‘Fried’ removed because Kentucky Fried Chicken suddenly didn’t sound so good, no problem! Just call it KFC. Everyone knew it was still fried chicken. That’s why you go there! People called it “K-Fried” for short and all sorts of other names. Its slogan was “Finger Lickin’ Good!” When […]Archive
May 3, 2019 by Simon Sweetman