Posts Tagged Poem
Archive
May 31, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Proctology
We aren’t always what we pretend to see and the future is not what it was going to be. But things can always be worse and this too as they say shall pass I’m still able to pluck out a verse I won’t tell you where this one was stuck.Archive
May 27, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: The Death of Music Journalism
the death of music journalism happened one day while I was still writing someone pronounced it dead – despite the various typos a quick fact-check revealed it was never actually alive – despite the claims from many that a pulse was charging through it right from when Gay Talese caught Frank Sinatra’s light sneeze in […]Archive
May 26, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Brian Wilson Live!
When I saw Brian Wilson play he looked like he might have left the iron on at home, or was wondering if he’d put his car-keys in the salad bowl, or left the cat-food in the swimming pool (again). His hands traced tiny circles as they hovered over the prop-keyboard. Stabbing here, there and sometimes […]Archive
May 24, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: I Grew Up Watching Mork & Mindy and Popeye and Good Morning Vietnam and Listening to Live At The Met…
Robin Williams only had a few bits and he did them over and over again, talk show to talk show to stage and screen always on, always braving it strong with the same set of voices, the same comedic choices – a hyperdrive improviser he bought and sometimes stole his material but there was never […]Archive
May 20, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Blind Mans Bluff
after it happens you can only think of what happened hope isn’t there at all or what’s there is so small but you hold on to it until the end in the end all that’s there is hope Werner Herzog says, “in the house of the hanged/They only speak of the rope”Archive
May 18, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: We Stand At The Water
We stand at the water and we feel its calm and force. We are in awe of the water. We are in awe of this source. We stand at the edge and we cannot move any further. We have travelled far enough today. We are in awe and not at war. Thanks to the water; […]Archive
May 17, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Rocket Queen Is The Epic Finale, Christ, It’s The Goddamn Redeemer
I always loved Appetite for Destruction, right from first listen, such a visceral thrill. It was naughty as…well, naughty-as-fuck, y’all! We were probably too young to be listening to it but the unwritten, unspoken agreement seemed to be that if we didn’t copy the language – at least at home, anyway – it would be […]Archive
May 13, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: All For The Return
Congratulations – you made it! Now time for that haircut, fix your lid, buy all the things you hid from your mind across time but now suddenly need in your quest to stimulate the economy as you quickly forget that it’s never been the economy that’s ever stimulated you. You’ll have a new language under […]Archive
May 12, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: When Two Tribes Go To War A Point Is All That You Can Score
The hall monitors that roam the corridors of the internet seem to forget that the billionaires that wipe their arses with the money they save on regular raises have hall passes for any and all occasions So it is an ugly mismatch that’s not only not fair it’s hard to pick a side – you’d […]Archive
May 9, 2020 by Simon Sweetman
Poem: Little Richard Gave License
(1932-2020) Little Richard gave license to me to listen to rock’n’roll. He was the architect, after all. It bounced along underneath and all around the rhythm of his piano lines, the issuing of whoops and hollers and screams – he set it up and we all know what it means because of him. I was […]Archive
May 6, 2020 by Simon Sweetman