Eminem’s Mother

Inner city slick

tyres with perfect grip

no chance of a slip

I play with real chips!

It’s not my turn to shine

I had it all back in 1999

when the internet was gold

So I am told I had it all.

But not content with just a new pepper pot

In with the artists and writers I put my lot

of making marks on a page or typewriter

of making friends with those inside you

with ideas and thoughts that will knock you over

and make you think and make others think about ya.

Trying trying and hoping in your luck to be an artist just to be in a land of so much money

and materialsism of intellectual inferiority held up by progeny

and exalted in friendships harmony towards international misogyny!

I was wrong about so much I was told, I read and became old, I spurted in growth

like magma only to solidify like an alien frozen by oxygen in our atmosphere.

And was towed off on a cart meant for artists installations

to a place with empty refreshing stations to fill my own calculations of how to live and

breathe.

Never mind the palpitations. We are a nation’s melting pot of glistening beings

held and nurtured from breast milk to water to coffee and hot chocolate not forgetting diet

cola.

We are must be now and here for this is no rehearsal and tomorrow will come and bring

tomorrow’s problems that we hopefully dealt with so we can play and do what we enjoy in

part of the normal that lives inside you like Eminem’s mother, never there to hold you but

to guide you. As you pray for a new tomorrow. One without the fear of failure or the need

for success and muscles bulging all over like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Chest. Let it be is

what

we pray when hoping for a better day.
And going to sleep with the light on is no problem!

In My Dreams You Will Change

It’s almost eleven and I am starving for Chinese food but the coffers cannot afford it so I will eat Melba Toast instead even though it’s vile for more than P Or flavour. Get colours back again Green, Red, Blue, Green, Yellow, smellow all over polka-dots. It’s a labour of love for me. I used to write green. Now I write all colours of the rainbow under duress. Why? I let myself believe I am an artist, writer etc and then someone reminds me of something I have done and that thought about being an artist becomes old but nothing contradicts it. So the next time someone talks about artists doing something in short, I think Oh they could be referring to me. Now this is not to say I have not ever thought that I’d fit the job description, should ‘they’ write one. AND IN PART THAT’S WHAT BROUGHT ME HERE TODAY. An advert that I thought fit me.

As for the BBC well that’s cooler than can be. Morecombe and Wise I grew up wanting to produce. I used to imagine what went on backstage between scenes but I never got asked is that something you would like to do and I did WANT to be a fireman or to have a pension which sounded sensible so I never got around to it until … the awakening.

The awakening happened gradually then suddenly like, well, something sudden that slapped me around the face and said ’You are only alive this once what would you like to do? Amongst artists as I was I still felt uncomfortable saying it. Producer. Easy to say I  thought but I’m too old to get the chance unless I really go underground and start making porno. But No. Other avenues beckoned like theatre groups, Edinburgh Fringe Festival and local arts centres then drawing digitally and with pencil, books and more books and enough self-doubt to sink the Queen Mary II or those two new Aircraft Carriers currently being commissioned near Glasgow. Well that was back in 2008/9 and since then I have harboured this fledgling dream which I have nurtured like  a baby bird until it is well, what it is today looking for a chance to fly away.

Caught  between reflections of fire and chance and superstitious glances I have no time for a master plan . Usually I take it week by week and see what comes.

And those close to me would say ‘you can always leave it for another day’ And I thought I knew what they were talking about until I decided that day.

The mind works in mysterious ways and I have half consciously made an effort half guided by my subconscious desires made a play for what is happening today.

TV is my world made big on the small screen. There is usually something on that gets my bone.

 

Race Track

Imagine that you got to race a race car around a race track! A magic race track. Every time you rounded the fourth corner you would be transported to a realm of dream and clarity. You would never lose time while in this turn and you would never ever lose your place. But you decide to take the alternative longer route through the chicane. Why?

To cut a long story short, what if the dreams and clarity bit i.e. your collective consciousness contained some rubbish you’d rather deal without, that is, something you would rather forget about and move on from? Well, You’d probably steer clear of dreaming and clarity if it caused you pain wouldn’t you? Well thats how it is. Time can be a great healer they say but once dreamed never forgotten is what I say. Buried maybe. Covered definitely. Forgotten, never.

Now I will attempt to describe in words something that caused me pain and suffering in my life especially.

The divorce of my parents came through when I was five.  On the outside, I was a happy kid. The other side was darker all together.  Petty crime, Lies, Gambling, Deception, Denial, Hate, Anger, lots of anger.

My memory is hazy on all the details but it wasn’t until I was into my early twenties that I stopped gambling. A ten-year habit! That was twenty years ago now since I felt that someone might kill me soon as look at me!

Thankfully I met someone that changed my opinion of the human race. An artist. A musician. A friend. We had two years of mostly happy friendship until he moved away. A week into knowing him I was convinced again that there was hope for me and eighteen months into knowing him my world had been literally turned upside down by this charming man.

Now he is gone, moved away and world seems a much paler place without him. But I know lots of artists writers, poets, musicians and otherwise creative people on the websites I  use so often! I am reminded of my friends and followers and suddenly the world seems like it should be a better place. One without pain and suffering affliction and poverty. Nevermind the planet, what about the people?

I never picked up a pencil to draw since being a child. Aged forty I was drawing for pleasure. My writing has developed although it’s still a hobby but I have high hopes for it in the future. I think the moral of this piece is that even if you are unable to conceive of the answer to your unhappiness or if you may have a very clear idea of what happiness is to keep on plugging away at it!. Either way, change for the better can and does happen! And you deserve it!!

Thanks for reading.