You are the law of demand and supply
Doing what it takes to get by
You don’t dig it. You’ve got a profit
Demand and Supply
2021© Andrew Watkins
You are the law of demand and supply
Doing what it takes to get by
You don’t dig it. You’ve got a profit
Demand and Supply
2021© Andrew Watkins
This is England!
Where the glass is half-full and the beer is warm
Where the cricket is crease worn and the diapers dry
You’ll never look into his eye again you miserable squirt
Until you’re face down in the dirt, mopping floors and doing dishes
the english way.
What a man said before he got into bed
suddenly everybody knows
whats in his head and the calculation he shows
must be wrong. I’ll never ever believe it!
Until the day it happens.
Their dangerous eyes prying
The terrorist cries ‘Alah Uh Akbar’
Before blowing himself up a balloon
to celebrate his daughters birthday
How will I know when i have crossed? There will be a sign. If I’m on the road that is. Anyway, I live in Birmingham not somewhere in America. Unless it’s in my head. Better not say that.
Mark Knopfler, Crosby Still and Nash. Not usually on my playlist but what the hell am I talking about. I listen to ALLsorts! But it’s not in my head. The sign. But if it’s not that’s where it BELONGS. How else will we know when we have crossed?
Andrew Watkins 2020
They have their houses, I have the tube
I have a grip, they have a grip; it’s the same
but that’s where the difference ends
and the similarities begin
We eat, we cry we are loonies upstairs
We shed, we try and tell little white lies
And when it’s all over we like to have a bath
Am I talking to you yet?
You lied (again) over that thing
and thought nobody knew
that you kept it hidden from view
Am I talking to you yet?
Across the seas you paddled in that boat
where dead people float and the sharks await
those who lied again and again and again
over such a little trivial thing
Am I talking to you yet?
We knew you’d come round in the end
Now it’s all over we can all have a bath
until the next thing
Am I talking to you yet?
We spent a whole night thinking about it
and we realised that you are not to blame
so there is no need to live in shame
over such a trivial little thing
Am I talking to you yet?
You know that thing? The one thing we know?
Well that’s not all we know about you
and the other things
Am I talking to you yet?
You’re bad but not a terrorist at least not yet
But those other things tell us
its not uncountable for this to add up
We know about these things
Am I talking to you yet?
We know that in a former life you were a star
Am I talking to you yet?
2020 Andrew Watkins
Outre Villiers
Rather shocking
Half life, half movie
From A to zygote
Mesmerizing
My Femoral Artery
Out of shielding at last
‘Out?: she asked with a gasp.
I think you’re being deliberately obtuse
For it’s not my mouth that been out of use
It’s the pubs that are closed
and the dentist too
No more people asking to use the loo
We’ve been busy during our shielding
Doing decorating and jobs that needed doing
In fact, it feels as we’ve almost caught up
Now I can get into church gain
something something something heaven!
A poem i wrote for my Mom coming out of shielding!
© Andrew Watkins 2020
Buoyed up by abbreviations
and a sense of only apathy
I wander to gaga
Send them into space at speed
and imagine they are treated
like some alien race
The talking bed who only speaks terrestrial
The kettle that only boils
The toaster on a short fuse
Perhaps one day they will learn
how to communicate like us
say the aliens over cheese
and alien crumpets
Somewhere on the planet
someone has made a discovery
He is human afterall
Perhaps he could interperet
between these contraptions.
and the home planet
and then lead a mission for the aliens
Then he would not be the lien
but a toaster human
A quick poem by Andrew Watkins © 2020
Ignoble journey
from magazine
to rack.
Up before dawn to line up outside
the raining shining hard on the pavement
Did I forget something or is it my brain?
Skyscraper babies
Cloning of our lives
Ourselves mere reflections
of a consumer society
gone wrong, consuming itself like a phage virus
spitting out excretions of individuality
to be consumed like cupcakes
bought at your local patisserie
itself a symbol of rebellious
machinations carried out
under the cloak of privacy
all that is allowed is fake
by those getting it right
themselves spitting bile
at those recumbent losers
who dare to question the status quo
Is it our passions alive with flame
or is it just a stupid game played out in the schoolyard?
where water flies and extinguishes doubt, reason, doubt
the one thing that sets us apart from the apes
is our art, our reason, our lives.
©Andrew Watkins 2020
A lost man, a sad man
a shallow man, a bad man
a quiet man, a shy man
a funny man, a queasy man
Which man?
A sharp knife, a bread knife
a paring knife, a life knife
a David bowie knife, tonight wife(knife)
a porcupine, a schnitzel
a Pop! goes the weasel
a morning, a snoring
and a bedtime drink
for breakfast, for elevenses
for a brunch for the senses
for women and men
of all ages
colours
race
creed
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Good Morning!
Andrew Watkins 2019