2020

Finally managed to have a chat with my future self last week

Adam 2020 told me to follow my heart, live for the day, and other platitudes

Whereupon I pressed him for details

He says I should wank and smoke less, take women seriously – especially my wife – and spend more time with the little B’s

He also encouraged me to make more money as he was tired of being almost poor

After some other literary gems (I promised not to share) he told me I’d always been conceited

I poked him in the eye, kicked him in the nuts and shot his left big toe off

So now I’ve got that to look forward to, too

Damn technology

Landscape

Sung long and round o hills
How high and vast your tracks
Hang low break slow o hills
Dip your grand hat high sun

White man blues

adam bujons:

From October 2011 (written much earlier), it seems the blog’sphere is populated by godheads, and whilst I admire your tenacity, I can’t shake that belief that god was a creation of a scared and ignorant humanity, looking for answers without the mechanisms (or wit) to fathom any; A humanity with whom we share very little in common today.
I re-blog this blues-inspired poem in the hope that there are other atheists out there, sharing this technology with all the devout..?

Originally posted on bujonswords:

Poor white man got no God
Everyone loses when you ain’t got love

Got no money just got pain
and next time just gonna lose again

Poor white man down on luck
Waking each day though you don’t wake much

Lost that woman took your heart
Gave up feeling when it fell apart

How’s the light in your eyes
Got so lost and burnt to die inside?

Poor white man poor or free
Dragging blues like it’s captivity

Open eyes now open heart
This one life’s waiting for you to start

View original

The Capricious Tales of August Stock

Status

Great news!

Here’s a phantastic pamphlet.Pamphelt Cover

The Capricious Tales of August Stock.

A 12 chapter poem.

You can buy a digital version from Kindle here for £1.99 ($3).

Or you can download a pdf for free here.

It’s the story of a journey of a man.

There are questions, love (sic), community and pain.

August Stock starts out dissatisfied, falls out of love, and then rambles on to new horizons. Will he find his peace? Will anyone let him?

You too can find out here!

I welcome feedback.

 

I once knew a woman

with a big
and worldly head:
She was ever so exciting
as she took them all to bed!
The tramp and then the scoundrel
and the drunkard
then the thief –
She was always more than welcoming
to poor souls; poor lost sheep.

Her light was spent in luxury;
in a gift crammed flat she lay,
while more people brought her ideas –
how to best avoid the day!
And though the drug-squad
(dressed in riot garb)
would wait outside her door
this life was so exciting
she just could not help want more!

Faithful? True she was not
but that matters hardly here
’cause her life flew by so hot –
If she stayed too long
she’d sear!

Aunty Kaye!

A little green verse

Last night,
A little like tonight,
Your frame again
Ssent back the light
Your glazed over –
Thoughtless sight -Thirl raymon su
Bilt aright
In dem
Irne demn

Solitude
A fashion
Lost in brain’s quiet
Satisfaction
Turned through almost
Every action
Pouring through died hair
Like rain

In green hearts
Oh love
Green hearts
On fire
Let the flames
Fan cheeks fire red
Green hearts
O hah love
In green hearts

February Nighttime

On the deep enamel blue of
this chill February night
I trace a path through puffs of clouds
that mask in part this urban starlight
the route my eyes scan down these avenues in space
Are interrupted, lazily, by droning night flightsChill February