Okay I need to post this here i've been hovering around poetry forums a while ago and anyway i wrote this tonight, i'm extremely drunk and heres the backstory : I've barely left my house (that i share with my parents) in around 2 years, barely left my room in fact ( although i ocasionaly go for jaunts in paisley scotland (I live in greenock but i cant bear to go out there) to buy books i dont read because my attention span is completely shot including poetry books which i don't understand) i'm not sure i like poetry yet i do adore words and wordplay ( i tell myself I am a genius) i'm quite severely mentally malcontent, and i wrote this tonight ( i'm drunk because i'm living notcurnaly now and i've got to meet my support worker tommorow at noon and I thought getting leathered would get me to bed) and yes, it's aesthetically horrid, but hopefully it hits upon an emotional or imaginitive truth at some level. I've been writing for some time now, on what i'm calling songs (i dream of being a famous songwriting genius) they are basically awful dylan rip offs ( although in the imaginary interviews i conduct in my head I say: " i've always considered springsteens 'blinded by the lights' as my model") but i'll post them for you along with the picture that inspired me. The songs are incomplete, I will cross out what i don't like with the word 'place hold', 'placeholder' and other variations I am 20 years old if that means anything. 21 soon. Men are more aesthetically pleasing than women; Sexuality is a matter of squeamishness. Although If the young bob dylan, from a specific picture where he's wearing an orange and white striped jumper and a cute bracelet whilst holding a rod of some sort and looking simultaneously wistfull and full of wonder, if he wanted to fuck me i'd grit my teeth and i'd do it. You beautiful, beautiful man. drunk and in a funk I really do despise myself _________________________________________- Placehold, with its du du du and its du du strips Is home to trendsetters and men of letters From all nations and denominations taking trips to savour the scandaloously sightly scenery The gorges, the groves, the glens, the greenery And a levitating bridge for the centenary We are well versed in the art of commerce and the economy is no anomaly, no sir Notice the diversity of the university Students of aerodynamics and astronomy Mingle among moronic shoe shiners with shingles And curteous couples keep company with singles Meet many prodigious practitioners of the arts Like our most famous resident, black lung bertie A true architect of authentic local dialect I'm sure you've heard 'spare 10 bob for the phone pal' His renowned metaphysical masterpiece, or 'cheer up fatchops', his ode to the clinicaly obese There's also our composer the 'placeholder' bulldozer So called for his trenchant take on the tone poem Very postmodern; attacks the keys with a hatchet Or cedric ciderbelly, the prophetic painter Known for his murals of 'placeholder' urinals For a fee you can take one of his tutorials To our left you'll see springs which nourish and flowers flourish Just ingore that rhodendron, all trodden on Don't worry gentlemen, we'll see to that soon Meanwhile, booze your brains out at the saloon Where the barkeep is a bilingual baboon And the patrons polite, bright and erudite Oh, and the starlit streams are the stuff of dreams They'll caress you're 'place' with cancer curing creams And massage your mind with energising beams Til you're so overcome you split at the seams You're entrails bail and your wife screams. I jest! I jest! Sorry my humours been likened to a tumor Then there's the cuisine, cooked in heavens holy canteen Or imported from hip indie countries like lichtenstein I'd suggest the seaweed dumplings for starters With boiled bootlace or pickled parsnip as main course Washed down with vintage 79 buckfast tonic wine Brewed by monks you know, so it comes with a hallowed seal And, of course, we have smooth streets that will soothe your feet And a climate compared to gestating in the womb Lovely and snug, positivley piping in fact Works charms for the complexion, pristine perfection Unlike those foul drenchvillians, all crooked and cracked Their faces soured by solitude and rejection ___________________________________________________________________ William Wordsworth, Sylvestre Stallone and Molly Malone Arguing over who has the coolest sounding name 'Sly, my good man, it's a simple matter of tone' says bill When who appears but shakespeare, bent over, bearing his rear And lands a flatulence fireball directly into his ear 'That was for panning lear, you quarrelsome queer' He snorts "Quit quibbling you quixotical old queen!" Bill retorts "Pipe down you puritanical pansy!" Slams Sly To nobody, and for no reason in particular A glazed expression washing over his face "Rambo isn't real you know, why act so gruff?" Asks Molly Your a member of mensa, and they're not tough. It's folly (incomplete) ___________________________________________________ Shambling along, mumbling a song An unkenpt hemp head Cracks open a can of strong bow To Neuter his nerves And help the conversation flow His lover, a featherless waif Clutching her crutches Pleads ardently for anodyne For her mangled spine "Don't worry babe, leave it to abe" Squinty chunk spends 8 hours a day Being sarcastic "It's chiefly a nine to five thing My house has its own Sarcasm study wing" He says This recieves much derision from His primate flatmate Place hold place hold place hold placehold And irate classmates "You're all so much fun!" Squinty chimes Philisopher Sergio Sage Unburdened by fame Now reveals his latest concept: Chomp the table like Some semimechanical shark (incomplete, one more verse) __________________________________- What a handsome looking ham joint Said the rustic goodfellow With a stocking over his face And a fag end up his nose Are you going to smoke it? No, the symbosis is so sweet It's safe in it's nest for now I was talking about the joint How did you know I get mashed? Oh it's the dreadlocks mainly A tactical move, my friend You can say it's your religion To rebuke the naysayers, like. I see. Does that ever work? Not really. I'm just out the joint Well anyway enough small talk Do you sell surgical masks? See I'm going rollerblading With a health & safety pedant And halfords are out of kneepads Surgical masks won't do at all They lack protective padding Suggest a substitute, then. Begin by pulping a pumpkin Carve it to the required shape Insulate it with goat wool And attach a strap of some sort Dental floss, or a shoelace. Keep it under your bonnet, mind My patent is still pending Do you have the materials? No, behind schedule this week A pack of pigs fled from a field and smashed my brother to bits Left him in quite a bad way That's some swashbuckling swine You're telling me! He's got no chin Plus they dyed his iris's pink Shedding light their motives And what would they be exactly? Militant homosexuals, clearly It's rife in the animal kingdom So when will you be stocked roughly? Next week sometime, I imagine See you next tuesday, you **** ( a fucking mess) ________________________________ Grab a seat, have a drink, take this rose There's something I'd like to propose let me near, do not fear It's of no magnitude, it is mere I only want to suck your big fat toes I'd like to smother them in squid And decorate them with orchids They're so light, they're so lean Forgive me, darling, it's quite obscne I simply want to suck your big fat toes I will kiss them and caress them I will pander to and impress them I will bow down and address them As you're royal majesty They're so giving, they're so gentle So oriental, so ornamental They're elegance put's me in a trance Am I strange, is this a normal stance? Oh come on let me suck you big fat toes My shrink says they're a penis substitute I tell my shrink to suck my toe He thinks I belong in an institute But he's bald, so what does he know? Please let me suck those big fat toes I will kiss them and caress them I will pander to and impress them I will bow down and adress them As you're royal majesty _____________________________________ The popular perception of scientists Is completely, utterly wrong They are all crazed liberal types Out raving the whole night long With PCP pipes and heroin bongs The lad who was teased at school For being a spotty little smarty Remember him, that hunched ghoul? His lifes a huge hedonistic party He's at the ritz, snorting sordid substances from a stripers tits Wearing a top hat and a cloak Puffing a colossal cuban smoke And when he's finished fucking that dancer He's gonna cure cancer Bored with recession, congestion and Iraq? Well here's a new exclusive Science is shooting smack Every chemistry student in britain Is an absolute skaghead Look at their faces, it is written Speech slurred, eyes red Can't remember what they just said Freaking out and believing their eyeballs to be implanted with lead Huddled in the corner weeping With a plant pot on their head And constantly repeating: Carved uncles count carbuncles Carved uncles count carbuncles etc, etc They may seem slightly demure But so would you if you had to endure The nightmare of a jimson weed comedown And it's legendary malignant mist It's all part of being a scientist So if you're ever in a scientists home Have a gander at his spice rack That's not corriander, oh no science is shooting smack (another mess) ____________________________________ Long ago I straddled a 'placehold place' serpent Akin to a wild steed on a meth binge Who kindly advised me, most pertinent: "Loose the ironic T-shirt, and that ghastly fringe" We rode past ruins, dykes, deserts and dunes Sickened by the sloven, sullen squalor Past gin joint jasper spewing up spoons Huge cum incrustation on his collar We witnessed bloodshed in the bikeshed And churchgoers duelling with lawnmoers 'placehold' with a godhead in gateshead And one wearied workplace whistleblower We met virgin mary in all her glory Forver sealed in a danish pastry Sadly starved from our strenuous journey We moistened our mouths and ate it anyway I asked, "what are your thoughts, my fine companion?" "Flummoxed by the skirmish" came his reply Then come, lets reclaim the 'placehold' medalion From the spendthrift* spy, aping the escaping guy *possible placehold __________________________________________ what good is money, when theres nothing worth buying? a house with more rooms or a car with a bigger engine It's the same old junk, tarted up like Pat Butcher gone burlesque I mean, how despicably dull! Do NASA sell space shuttles? Does the barras have a special black market subsection where I could get some uranium? Some secluded side street stall Where they implant craniums with titanium? (actually scrap metal) Where suddenly a fight breaks out and some glaswegian nutter starts shouting 'Volley um'! Volley um'! Or is he shouting Valium? You never know with weegies (just a rant basically) _______________________________ Look at this stupid, foppish phony du du du du du du du du With his old etonian crony Wouldn't you just love to slap him? Well listen up you little shitstain du du du du du du du du du Fuck off to your holiday home in spain And spare us your wearisome presence We should sterilise these prats Etherize them and go to town on their genitals With a couple of cricket bats Why do we elect such yuppie cretins? Such stooping, snooping slavish sleuths With formidable facility For imbecility Bellies In a vat of vaginal jelly ( incomplete, obviously)
