OK so Hollywood have been on the line ALL morning. They said Inception Interception is making big waves across the pond this morning and they demanded that I make it into a poem for some strange reason. Typical Hollywood! All shing a ling and no troc a boo boo.
But mine is not to reason why, mine is just to poemify:
I’ll tell you of the time
when I sung vocals in a band.
A cautionary rhyme
you’ll need to read to understand.
It started in a place
I used to live when I was young.
The drummer’s frantic face
belied a bell it should’ve rung.
He said that we were late,
and we should go and get a bus.
The gig began at eight,
our fans were waiting there for us.
Right then a terror dawned
that took the colour from my hair:
the band could not perform,
cos we’d done nothing to prepare.
We didn’t know the songs,
we’d not rehearsed a single one.
Too late to right these wrongs,
the opportunity had gone.
The only thing to do
was face the music like a man.
Perhaps a gentle cue
would show me how the songs began?
I asked to see the set,
and he obliged me with a list.
It made want to get
a knife and open up my wrist.
I didn’t even know
a single song name on that page.
I didn’t want to go
and get destroyed up on that stage.
But then a little cat
appeared and spooked the pigeons good.
I stopped and staggered back
to shun the trees and see the wood.
It didn’t add up right
that I would leave this gig to chance.
I’ve always been uptight,
and quite averse to soiled pants.
And am I being dumb,
or is the drummer my old friend?
But Neil couldn’t drum,
he was a musical dead-end!
Hey isn’t this the place
I shared when I did my degree?
My singing’s a disgrace,
and he did not live here with me.
In waking life, I knew
we would at least have practiced once.
My skepticism grew
that these weird images were fronts.
I put a breadcrumb down,
so I’d recall it was a dream.
“Let’s get the bus to town
now and I’ll take one for the team!”.
I guess after this they’ll want me on Oprah, Geraldo, Donahue, The Dick Cavett Show(OK so I haven’t had a TV in many many years)(god damn that used to sound so edgy, but now that no-one’s got a TV and you can watch TV online, it really just makes me sound like a stealth hermit trying to pass off his misanthropy as edginess instead)(hmmmmmm probably best keep these treacherous inner-monologues to myself in future eh?)(how dare you)(is there anyone there???)(no, good, still just us then, we don’t need them nasty outsiders)(Taters? What’s taters precious?)