The rock of ages
the r-o-k of ages past
Can you see the future
In the bottom of your glass?
Rock the ages past
Rock the ages past
Can you see your future
in the bottom of a glass?
lost for inspiration
drowning in despair
the dove spots land
it’s a tigers lair

Camelot comes calling
bringing Guinevere

The rock of ages
the rock of ages past
can you see the future
in the bottom of a glass?

Taking her by the hand
Take her to the promised land
Mistake her progeny
For a shining future
Beware the devil’s cards
Camelot will shoot ya!

Rock the ages past
Rock the ages past
Can you see your future
in the bottom of a glass?

The days are one long carnival
Misers are convivial
the future has become the past
Camelot keeps calling
you can keep bees…
Or I’ll bring you to your knees

Rock the ages past
Rock the ages past
can you see your future in
the bottom of your glass?

There’s a bee that’s buzzing
in your ear telling, you are very near
to the mansion house
to the Emblazion!!
to the Emblazion!!

Rock the ages past
Rock the ages past
can you see the future in the bottom of a glass?

Emblazion!! Emblazion!!
One step to heaven
Two steps back
When will the future
Cut me some slack?

Rhyming Adventures

First word, First line, first stanza,

Just like in The Tales of LaMancha

Our hero is abroad on horseback

And no-one is there to make him rack

His brains, nobility, pride and bravery

For escaping the tedium he calls modern slavery

Hark! a lady in some distress is calling

An opportunity to prove his manliness!

He gallops off at pace, catches her from falling

The kind lady showers him with words of gratitude!

With pride beating a drum in his chest

he rides for hours again before taking a rest

After nuptials, he pens a letter to himself no less

‘Did a wise thing today, and was thanked for it,

I did a good deed and then didn’t outstay my welcome’,

‘Whats more I was thanked for it! A knight I soon

maybe if I can save enough old ladies from falling

Indeed It feels like my true calling! So goodnight

fine fellow and rest until the morrow!’

He pitches his tent and goes to sleep under the stars

No evening spent at inns trawling women and bars

During the night it got cold and wet no wonder that

he woke up feeling upset at his predicament. But he

packed his saddlebags and mounted his steed

Off in search of another good deed!


The little path to greatness

The little path to greatness
is a MarioWorld of jumps, power-ups (with awesome sound effects)and mushrooms
No. It is made of God and prayer, Luck and judgement, Hard work and toil sunshine and bad weather
It’s a walk through the wood that leads to a mountain path that leads to the chariots of the gods.
It’s a walk to school preceded by a baby’s first crawl, first steps and doddering drool.
It’s that bicycle ride that runs out of control until Bang you hit the wall!
It’s getting up again to face them all.
It’s walking home with a puncture
It’s carrying bad news in your chest
It’s feeling your heart beat in your breast
It’s authentic and local, It’s paranormal and global
It’s family, It’s friends, It’s strangers at the park
It’s partying after dark
It’s the long walk home with friends or alone
It’s getting your homework done on time
It’s waiting for dinner, standing in line
It’s ironing your clothes ready for the day
It’s carrying your brother over the hump in the road
It’s saying you will fight and defend what is right
It’s making all the bad things that happened right
It’s doing it day after day after stultifying day
It’s doing it for them, It’s doing it for you, for the crew
It’s doing it when there’s no-one else around
But most of all It’s doing it when nobody else cares
It’s doing it because it matters when the road is long.
And to make the world a better place.
It’s blue and grey it’s the full bloody rainbow
it’s what you decide and what you feel inside
It’s moldable, It’s makeable It’s delicate and breakable
It’s resilient and strong, interesting and long
It’s what you are made of not what others tell you
So take that knife and carve yourself a life.
For today and tomorrow for here and the world over
Stand up and be counted Find a horse and mount it
And enjoy your diet cola with ice cream float and cherry fizz bombs!

Written by Andrew Watkins

©2017 Andrew Watkins

My Life

When the universe was young;
Time Team presenters enthusiastic,
Spring Watch for grown-ups
diving into the coral sea.

Now we are older what is TV?
A sequence of rehashed memory
given a twist of lemon sorbet.
Always predictable, never salty.

I wish I could draw. I wish I could write.
Just imagine what I could do with my time.
Galleries and book signings at Waterstone’s
not this trip in a body bag of ageing bones.

Music could be the accompany to me
so I can hear the beat as I walk down the street
and pass the windows I daren’t look in
lest they give me heed and ask me my name.

I used to romantic I used to be a fool until I made it.
The single rule. Be nobody’s fool. You’re enough for anyone
alone and in company you will never freeze or be lost for words
it’s the way of the singular universe. They need somewhere to go.

So the company excluded by means more fair than foul
the present comes on the tramlines of heaven and hell
dragging the past with it trailing flames that bellow
past my ears singing my hair, burning away my cares.

And sometimes I find I still exceed the pedestrian way
and accelerate past somebody else and then find
that I have the time to do something enjoyable.
Like write the poem I have been writing all of my life.

I wish I could draw. I wish I could write. I wish I could
get better so I can resume my life. And stop living
and get giving and receiving in spades. Again. Again. Again.
I must go now I want to publish. The story of my life.


by Andrew Watkins

Beautiful Blooms

Rasters, Rainbows, Riddles
Colourful Colloidal Cummerbunds
Dressy Dizzy Diseases
Echoing Echolalic Elegies.
I like my song; now, before, after and during.
Pity it wasn’t like this before; Habit? Rabbit. Shot.
At Dawn.
I have had my care of worries.
I have had a few false dawns.
It’s not OK now. It’s better than before.
Tristar porn.
A star is born
unto the starry blackness.
Behold it in the sky shining brightly.
Like a firework or ICBM off course.
Should I continue?
Of course, of course, of course!


Strike winters bough with leaf replenishing oxygen
Us poor wanderers behold colour where there was none
commonplace trivialities dissolve in nature’s bounty
yellow neon is the message of plenty
I observed ritualistic behaviours
and uncommon pastimes
illogical to follow yet logic occurred
So meaningless, so recorded
It will prevail into times anomalies
Fear and passion in colours beholden
Not love in cooking pots all broken.



How dare you?

Kid, Boy, Son

Well done!

Now you see what we can do

to you. It’s One, Two, One Two.

To our tune forever more you will march.

One,Two. One ,Two. Resistance is painful.

One,Two. One ,Two. We’ll Put you in gaol.

One,Two. One,Two. Crucify you on nails.

One,Two.One,Two. You won’t trim our sails.

One,Two.One,Two.You will bring us ruin.

One,Two.One,Two. Through the things you are doin’

One,Two.One,Two. I wish I never met ya



Your hiding behind your door. three, four. , three, four.

Ain’t sociable no more. three, four. three,four.

You used to have a knife three,four.three,four.

Now you want a wife. three four, three four.

It ain’t gonna be me. three,four. three, four

You’re old and grey. three,four.three,four.


I want to tell my story, five six seven

About how my life five, six ,seven

And heaven five six seven

I know how to set you free. five, six,seven

I know how to set you free, five six seven.

Now come to me seven, eight nine

Stop doing time eight nine eight nine.

All you who are ill eight,nine,ten.

All you who are ill eight,nine,ten.

And let’s pray for a new day. Alleluia!



ta da!

Blah Blah Fink! – Its as if HP never happened


By Andrew Watkins


Today I watched the first episode of the Eeeeuuugh so bad spell casting of The Durrell’s. In it, I was surprised, at the activities of Gerald, Smiled at the antics of the two younger middle siblings and commiserated with the eldest, the writer in the family. Not forgetting the various scrapes the mother gets into its fun for good-looking middle-class women like her – oh so sentimental and motherly.

Bugbears. There are plenty.Of Rabbits (bunnies) there are one or two which I will list below.

It CANNOT be that easy to immigrate to another country. Full Stop.

There are NO Empty houses just lying around waiting for immigrants (ever read the news?)

I KNOW it’s supposed to be PERIOD!


Gerald and his naturalist man friend dancing like birds in the water.

Gerald bringing home a huge bird on a rope (NOT an OCTOPUS!) And everyone builds a cage. This also belongs in the bugbears pile for various obvious reasons.

Seeing a girl in a bikini with a book – GNASH!

The scene of white cliffs over the sea -camera shots of jaw-dropping beauty.

Opening credits and the scene where they are all walking up the road with their belongings. In the distance is the village they are heading towards. The taxi driver from heaven not into ripping off tourists. NO! He is an estate agent too!

The farting man leaving the dinner table! Just one more LUNCH?!

So the Durrell’s are out to make a fresh start in a new country, the lovely Corfu. They up sticks and leave with no thoughts of school terms, gun control laws, career paths or to the chemistry of moneyed men and widowed women and OFF they go! Don’t the nineteen thirties sound great?

They arrive and are met by the kindest and most knowledgeable taxi driver who takes them all to a disused house overlooking the sea. Big on rustic charm and an Oxford sink but low on all other modern conveniences but It is home and without Housing benefit! Without any modern conveniences, you might imagine that it’s difficult in the mornings without fresh running water with which to brush your teeth or a kettle to boil water for a cup of coffee but the Durrell’s seem above such trite conveniences. Why they have animals, guns, (or girlfriends), cigarettes, writing and being a mother to amuse themselves with. The scene is set for more of the same sentimental vein Corfu, Family, Growing up Etc.

Tune in on ITVPlayer here

Apparently this is a good show (What?) Apparently I read this book (yes it is based on a book: My Family and Other Animals by Gerald Durrell is the one I read) and (apparently) the cast are rising stars and there will be a second series made. Apparently the house they are filming in was stayed at by the actual Durrell’s (EXCLAMATION MARK!!!) Apparently we are an intelligent species above rumour, gossip, and innuendo. Apparently the young daughter is in fact an intelligent theatrical actor who has appeared on stage at the National Theatre which is where she was spotted by a (talent scout?) head-hunter for the ITV. Chris Evans interview with the two stars of the show (the actor who plays the gun toting psychopath and the bikinied girl) was pure radio flattery. Pure flattery. I was quite dismayed.

Anyway, back to the story. Bugbears and bunnies time again.

Bugbear – The iron grille outside one of the windows just happened to fall off as Louisa leans on it. We KNOW the house is rustic and falling to pieces just from looking at it! This prompts another furious outburst of vociferocity from the taxi driver towards the property owner prompting another camera shot and the resulting ‘DISCOUNT!’ Must be water to Louisa ears.

The lack of egotistical infighting, not caring who has the biggest room or Sex with Louisa seems to be the concern of the writer in the family. His matchmaking fails big time FAIL but then he writes an acknowledged masterpiece despite not really being a writer at all! But an ESTATE AGENT.

Bunny time = Gerald comes home with a jar of creepy crawlies and drops them all over the floor in the house! Classic. Louisa says that all her children are vile! Classic. My mother loves this show! Classic!


I love this show and it nearly wasn’t as annoying and something you might find on the BBC whose treatment of Animals in the ZOO wasn’t half as sentimental or endearing and multi-faceted. There’s one for the jeweller in YOU!

There are six episodes and that’s Almost 5 hours of pure watching pleasure. Who misses Jeremy Clarkson? Not ME!

Who is this show for? EVERYBODY!

Now for a completely unrelated theme -A song…

There are reasons to tune in on the ITV Player to catch up; if like me you missed its first showing you will be grateful to watch the shows at your own convenience. Aren’t ITV nice!

I want to see Louisa naked tied … (WHOOPS) I want to see Louisa happy and all her kids happy. It would make an excellent Christmas Card. Happy Christmas from the Durrell’s KISSES.

Who is this woman? IMDB will tell you more…MU HAHAHAHA!

Who is the actor with the sticky out ears/writerly enthusiasms who we see on board his typewriter? IMDB will tell you more. But seriously…Who IS HE?

And the daughter. I think my sister would approve. HOW OFTEN DO YOU HEAR ME SAY THAT?

The TAXI driver who wears a wedding ring. Who is he married to? Is he divorced? Widower? Mentally unstable?

And that fucking beautiful ISLAND! What a stellar cast this show has.


In your living room and in mine in common is a television

And in its coloured and inviting screen is a show for the wise yet green

This is a thing we in the know call naiveté and its missing from our lives

And we deplore the fact that when it’s gone it’s gone for good and will return no more

And then comes along a show that is naivetés spring of innocent family joy does bring

Tales of joy and sorrow, of yesterday and tomorrow into our living rooms again.

And we are grateful because we all forgot how to be as happy as this little lot.



That’s your lot. I hope you enjoyed my little poem and review.