The Adventures of Crack Dragon

To Be Continued....

Metro Man

I kept looking for her in crowds.

She was a slim lady with puce eyes and a smile that reminded me of politics.

Suffice to say she ex-hued power.

I wrote into one of those Metro columns called "Love on the Tracks" or "High Speed Link to Love".

There's never been a reply.

I wrote into one of those Metro columns saying, "I saw you on July 22nd at East Croydon. I was the guy reading Dan Brown and I let you go before me in the coffee queue and when entering the train. You smiled at me as if i was courteous and my actions pleased you. You changed my life"

I read it the day it was published, it made my heart smile.

The week after that I was a giddy little schoolboy scanning every face, nonchalantly walking through every carriage of the 7:15 to Victoria. 

I never found my perfect seat. 

I would crave one of those 4 seaters with the little plastic table jutting from the window, empty apart from me. I'd sit facing forwards so as not to get travel sickness with my Karrimoor rucksack on the seat beside me and a cardboard cup of coffee resting in my palms. She would sit on the seat opposite me. Not directly but opposite my bag as if it was too soon to be that familiar with a person but not a problem to care for an inanimate object. My inanimate object. Our eyes would meet as we both stared out of the plexiglass window at Battersea Power Station and I would see inflatable pigs tethered in her eyes. I imagined where she would lunch, she had far too much grace to touch Pret or Benjiis & would probably just eat something from home. I wanted to see her at Speakers Corner. I wanted to stand up and say "Here yea Here yea! I am yours." 

I wanted everyone to hear me. I wanted her to hear me.

I kept looking for her in crowds.

She was the love of my life and the memory of her smile reminded me of needles.

Suffice to say she ex-hued power over me.

I wrote a letter to try and find her despite only meeting her once.

There's never been a reply. 

Cut Me, I'm Bleeding

TO HEAR AN AUDIO VERSION OF THIS POEM CLICK HERE...

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Ellipsey/162509237142431

                        -----------------------------

I fell upon the Huff Huff house in a state of disarray,

My bendy beams all slavish making clump clump all the way.

The Laser Yaks with eyes & ears were not so far behind,

The snarling Gifflecut, and Dad were spitting spit & rinds.

I hollered out “Ooh Let us in” I screamed “For Fuck Us Sake”,

I knew my Mardi gras was near, I could see my own fair wake.

The beasts and men and jive fauna surrounded my chalk spot,

I felt alone in that circle, my Caucasian limestone plot.

The porch light burst bright into flame, I thought at last I’m saved,

I darted through the wire mesh, my thanks I raved and raved.

Then Jesus turned and sat me down, he smiled his winning smile,

He told me I was on my own but could rest in here a while.

I thought now hold on Sonny Jim, a lark you must be havin?

I said my prayers, I loved your Dad and I lived without much sin.

Yet now you leave me to this fate with all the MustNotMentions;

To face Supperutts, Laser Yaks & Dad with no God intervention!

So now my bendy beams did shake & my leg elbows did knock

I threw my Bible on the fire, good riddance  to that croc!

I puffed my heart's prison fully out and settled my grey matter,

I opened up the door ajar & heard the Poinglings natter.

The Laser Yaks stood furthest back, each one 12 foot high,

Their sonic lowing rumbled deep, the neon in their eyes.

The Supperutts skittered around the porch making whistling sounds,

Their scalpel toes scuffed the wood, their thoughts burnt through the ground.

The gnashing Gittleguts whooshed a lot, my hair did stand on end,

One got caught in my minds eye an attack I can't defend.

But what should end this frightful night, which beast was most depraved,

The Mensaclumps & Grownup Shoes were at least all well behaved.

No, the one who stirred this nightmarish clan and snuffed out all my light,

Was none other than the seed giver, the one who I can't fight.

So just like Jesus I'm all things to all men, a counterpoint to the bad,

I can fend off all the nightmares but get killed by my own Dad.

(Just an aside, i was never abused by my father or suffered any mistreatment at his hands. This is a work of fiction apart from the bit about the Laser Yaks which is so real it's scary. Ok, see you when you get out the joint Dad!)

Don't Fret My Love

Bottom E, that’s the first girl that you kissed

A harmonious little thing that you thought you needn’t miss

She never broke your heart or argued all night

She rings out the longest, though you left her out of sight.

-

Next up is A, the first real girlfriend you had

She just wasn’t special enough to meet Mum and Dad,

Courting was fun but she was just a stepping stone

A note within your love chord, left all alone

-

D came along like a storm of lust and fire

A note unto herself with no need for dull attire

Every song was passionate & you partied every night

But the chord was loved by everyone, say goodbye to the light

-

Gorgeous little G, a ripe chance for a rebound

A jolly little chord where solace always can be found

She warmed you in your bed and helped to ease the pain

But without a song to sing, sunshine quickly turned to rain.

-

B caught your eye and held your heart just like a vice

A cacophony of notes though you’d only met her twice.

Every minor little key left you crying out for more

But her ballad chequered past meant you shut her out the door

-

And now top E, the sweetest fragile sound

The easiest to break but the loveliest you’ve found.

Her place in every chord brings brightness to your song

Yet she’s identical to your first kiss and you’ve known her all along.

BURN IT DOWN

So I'm playing Glastonbury next week & this is the song I got the gig from!

Head to Ellipsey Facebook to hear the whole song & other diseased ditties from the Elliptical throat x

Simon Le BonBon - Musings on the culture of jazz and it's subsequent belittling by the myriads of those who choose not to understand it or something like that

Toe-tapping, coffee lapping jazz aficionados get beat,
The X generation & CBGB drop outs struggle to find a seat.
The fuggy Ian Fleming smoke permeates the the jazz which permeates the feet,
Then the brushes start to sizzle, the tightened snare is tight,
The groove is lightly drizzled and there's a raffle for the meat!

A cold, sharp man parts the curtain, his ego weighing him down like Atlas
He is the personification of the lead piping in the drawing room.
Dreadful, droning drumming dots his dramatic, droll deliveries
Mumbling, mouthy monologues mix his mambo music mysteries

"AVANT SPAZZ!" cry the crowd of young boys in the corner in their best brown baggies.
N'er a tap, click or strut from their platform soles
N'er a jump, skip or beat from their love-lorn souls
This ain't what they call rock and roll thank you very much.
The pianist depresses his feet in sporadic desire for hard or soft.
First stanza forté in a crashing, banging Ivory key coast,
Second verse pianissimo (cos the melody's been missing you) in a softly softly Ebony boast.

The cool, curt man utters, "Who wrote this stuff in Italian? I only know Persil adverts!"
He is not pianissimo despite the directions, he is loud and crass in his off-white shirt.
The musicians wince at the faux-pas but they play on... this is Jazz after all
Home of chameleons, watermelon men & 5/4 time signatures.

"MAPLE LEAF DRAG!" bemoan the old fuddies in their Zoot suits & brogues
N'er a crash, bang or fizzle from their pressed shirts
N'er a hop, swing or jive from their dough-eyed skirts
This ain't what they call jazz at all thank you very much.
The icy, blunt man muffles the drums... he mutes the horns... he closes the lid on the pianists fingers...
Silence
apart from a lone high hat  'Tsss     Tssss    Tsssss'
the crowd catch on ' Shhhh     Shhhhh   Shhhhhh'
Simon Le Bon Bon pops a Rowntree's Fruit Pastille in his mouth and begins to suck....

Twice Nightly.... C'est un stylo