Posts archive for: October, 2005
  • An update

    Some good news reported by Jon in Glasgow; he's been able to read my blog again at Govan library by directly accessing my October archives...this somehow overrides the internet content filters.

    HE HAS NAMED ME

    In tongues of prophecy
    On the back seat of a caravan;
    -Now that I believe
    I have too little.

    My thoughts, in confession
    I should not laugh so
    Well-meaning.

    HAIKU

    two sated lovers;
    somewhere in the world
    someone is dying

    TIME MANAGEMENT SKILLS

    still carefully ironing his shirts,
    today is his last
    day at the office

    HAIKU

    speaking in broken English:
    most of the houses are boarded up
    the others unsellable

  • All Change

    During the last fortnight or so I've had three light bulbs fuse - I hope it's only a co-incidence and not a problem with the wiring.

    The replacements I bought are much smaller (same size fitting obviously) - 'handy, new easy-fit size' it says on the box.

    FROM AN OLD FRIEND

    A swag of peonies
    The sea still running
    Away from the house.

    FIRST KISS

    Valentine's Day;
    Spring breeze
    On a cloudless night.

  • Supplementing my income.

    Whenever I find a coin I always pick it up and put it in my back pocket, intending not to spend it until I've found the next one; otherwise it's considered bad luck.

    No-one else seems to perform this ritual, so I'm wondering where did I get the idea from; and would I be spared bad luck if I weren't to pick up any dropped change in the first place?

    FROM ACORNS...

    Pulling up
    Oak saplings
    In my garden.
    -Just another weed.

    HAIKU

    struggling
    to write a haiku
    about bonsai

    REHEARSAL

    Solo this resonance
    With pitch, pause and weighting.

    Around the emptiness
    The numbers dance and play.

  • I know this isn't helping.

    Yesterday I typed the words 'lonely, bored, unemployed' into Google. The following words and phrases frequently appeared in the search results:-

    mental health problems
    criminal behaviour
    long-term, chronic illness
    alcoholism
    gambling addiction
    drug addiction
    ethnic minority
    a low level of educational achievement
    disability issues

    Since none of these terms apply to me I felt like crying, but couldn't find the tears.

    SERVICE COMPRIS

    In the attic
    Candlelight and prayers;
    After the naming -
    Back to back
    Across the horizon.

    MAKING IT

    New Year's Day:
    A first move,
    the clock ticking
    After the rain.

    HAIKU

    alone with dad;
    a fallen rainbow
    and the speed of clouds

  • My favourite internet sites at the moment

    The Drudge Report
    US-based news portal; dozens of links to newspapers, magazines, TV and radio, newsagencies and individual columnists.

    http://www.drudgereport.com

    Fortean Times
    Unconventional news and science reports and links.

    http://www.forteantimes.com/breaking_news/breaking_news

    Public Radio Fan
    English language public service and international radio services from around the world.

    http://www.publicradiofan.com/cgi-bin/whatson.pl?when=nowsoon&=non-music

  • Home Alone

    According to a recent government report more of us are living alone, either by choice or circumstances. In my case I absolutely hate all the time I'm forced to spend on my own (this is made even worse by my being unemployed).

    When it comes to relationships I think that I might be far too keen on commitment; which is unusual for a man...I've never had a relationship though and so don't really know.

    CLEAN SHEET

    after the wake
    she speaks to me,
    sleepless night
    beneath the clock

    SERVICE CHARGE

    the smell of perfume
    the same words every night

    in a stranger's room, listening
    and waiting for the moment

    THERMOSTAT

    I tip my hat
    to the other side

    listening to the rain
    on my doorstep

    texting home

  • Citizenship Lessons

    This morning a friend was telling me how he gave a young yob a clout for throwing stones on the bus (not at the bus, or from the bus, but actually inside the saloon of the bus.)

    I think a lesson might have been learnt that day.

    Of course, I've done a similar thing myself; several years ago a gang of youths was throwing screwed up pieces of paper at people (myself included) in the library. As I walked past them one of their number then spat on me. A few minutes later as I was leaving the building the same characters were making a nuisance of themselves just a few yards away.

    Without saying a word, I walked over to the ringleader.......

    After the event his friends just starting laughing.

  • A bit of a mystery

    I experienced my first problem with my broadband service on Wednesday. When I phoned up BT they couldn't find any trace of my records on their computers.

    Anyhow, the woman at the end of the line suggested that I switch off everything and temporarily unplug the filters and then re-boot.

    It worked.

    HEPTONSTALL

    Pennine Graveyard:
    A hard frost,
    More an ache than sorrow.

    MAP READING

    Indian summer:
    Warm weather
    Coming from Africa.

    HAIKU

    so gently behind;
    even in Rome
    exhausted, on the tree stump

    HAIKU

    boy in a pushchair,
    hazy afternoon
    just out of focus

  • Where is Doncaster?

    In Yorkshire, of course; the answer is: but the borough is served by the following bus companies.

    First South Yorkshire (Rotherham)
    Yorkshire Traction (Barnsley)
    Stagecoach East Midlands
    Lincolnshire Road Car
    Arrive West Yorkshire
    Isle Coaches (Lincs)
    Wilfreda Beehive (silly name, locally based)

    The good news is that within the last few weeks a day ticket that can be used on any local operator has finally been introduced.

  • Successful Download

    I've managed to download a broadband usage meter. The tariff I'm on limits me to 20GB a month, which is quite generous I should think because at the moment I only seem to be using about 7GB of my allowance.

    LOVE LETTER

    I broke off from what
    I was doing
    And went to the
    first aid box
    in the kitchen.

    (Where I still keep
    All the chocolates
    With the soft centres.)

    MATHEMATICAL GENIUS

    Staggering home,
    He turned a corner
    Into the square.

    FIRE EXIT

    In case of emergency
    She worked in the dark;
    At the end of the day
    The walk home always
    Seemed endless.

  • Things that I'm not worring about at the moment.

    Bird flu
    Global warming
    Going bald (it won't happen)

    These two poems are examples of 'found poems'...finding lines of text in the environment and incorporating them into a poem.

    POEM FOUND ON A MANTELPIECE

    Cancer Research UK
    Thank you for your application
    Of deodorant bodyspray.

    For fresher breath
    Call the Transport Executive's Traveline
    Water resistant to fifty metres.

    RANDOM LINES, RANDOM PAGES

    Get out of here and deliver the message
    Hanging up against the sun
    "Peter was murdered today."

    "As you wish."
    If he were a client
    He'd stand for a drink.

  • Who am I?

    Just a bit of fun; typing my name into various search engines and seeing what the first search result is. Thanks to our fellow blogger, Jessica Smith, for the idea.

    Google...It's me; my poem in The Black Mountain Review, a literary magazine based in Northern Ireland.

    Dogpile...I'm someone called Vic Firth, a corpsmaster.

    Lycos...The family tree of Terry Lee Firth.

    MyExcite...It's me again; my poem in The Black Mountain Review.

    Webcrawler...As above.

    Yahoo...Vic Firth again.

    Ixquick...Me again; this time a poem in 'Underground Window', an American internet magazine.

    Mamma Metasearch...as above.

  • Some of the recent films I remember watching on video.

    Tetsuo II - The Iron Man...extreme Japanese cinema.

    The Cook, The Thief, His Wife And Her Lover (again!)

    Kika (Pedro Almodovar)

    Independence Day (always great fun)

    The Tit And The Moon (Bigas Luna)

    ENGLISH SUMMER

    On the beach,
    Farting behind
    The windbreak.

    ESSENCE

    Fires burn on the hills,
    Down in the valley
    The oak king
    Spreads his arms.

    TELLER

    Bank the tide
    And pay the interest
    Into the new moon's account.

  • Three things I'd do if I were to win the lottery.

    1...I'd travel; pursuing volcanic eruptions around the world.

    2...I'd buy a nice house in the country and employ a chauffeur (I can't drive).

    3...I'd eat in a different restaurant every day.

    Of course it won't happen...because I don't gamble.

    PROOF READING

    The man gets a letter
    The man is blind.

    The blind man opens his letter
    He cannot close his ears.

    PRE-PROGRAMMED

    The weather forecast was right,
    Bright sunshine and a hard frost.

    Before leaving for work this morning
    I remembered to switch off the fridge.

    TEXT BOX

    To move without medication,
    A slip of memory
    Strange triggers
    And tribunal setbacks.

    Spoonfed syntax, unwashed
    -A mad scientist's guinea pig
    After the experiment.

    The postman's late again;
    Another day's predicament, perhaps
    -Make a move without medication.

  • Well, excuse me!

    This morning I was in town and found myself walking a few yards behind a woman who kept looking over her right shoulder and making it obvious that she was feeling uncomfortable and would prefer that I wasn't so close. Well, what would she expect me to do though?

    I was lawfully going about my business and just happened to be walking in the same direction and at the same pace: the actions of someone else, anyone else, no matter what these might be, are not going to make me feel in the least bit guilty about the situation.

  • Water, water everywhere.

    It's now been raining quite heavily for a day and a half and the damp patch in the back bedroom is starting to grow again...and there's still the problem with the leaky pipes in the bathroom.

    Of course I keep reporting the problems to my landlord, but I can only get through to his answering service.

    CHARTER FLIGHT

    Crossed vapour trails
    Above the airport,
    In the departure lounge
    Unclaimed matching tartan luggage.

    LIST OF INGREDIENTS

    The mind is indeed restless:
    Listen to the rhythm of the city,
    It cannot be force fed or factory farmed.

    STREET LIFE

    Petals for stars;
    We twist beneath the shower,
    Torching the sky with tumbling embers
    Bathing nude in pitch-black splendour.

  • Tw o Timing

    The battery in my £1.99 watch has finally packed in, but I'm not buying another [watch] until next week, after the clocks are put back. It's enough hassle having to set the correct time once, without having to do it twice.

    UNDER THE FLIGHTPATH

    I cannot tell you
    Who has embroidered
    The sky today.

    CATHEDRAL VISIT

    They will float together,
    Two naked bodies.

    I will say nothing
    And you will not even know
    -But the angels will know.

    VILLAGE GREEN

    Christmas fairy lights
    Huddled together in pine needles
    Whispering the game plan
    For the twenty fifth of December.

  • I'd like to be...

    ...loved,desired,cherished,popular,busy,challenged,motivated,included,respected...

    ...but I'm not.

    WAY OUT

    No-one to care to push:
    An owl of my own voice
    A forever loan
    And I acquired
    A secondhand
    'How To...' guide
    And a battered thriller.

    Later, on station platforms
    Fingering thin lips
    I'll be tempted to take
    A sneak preview
    At the novel ending.

    CLOCKING OFF

    In the west,
    The sun,
    A circular saw
    Cutting into the horizon.

  • It's therapy...I suppose

    I've had two poems published in two different magazines this week and I've been inspired to write some more poetry.

    Anyhow; these are the results of this morning's efforts.

    THE OLD LIES

    The smoke in the trees
    Through the eyes of a night,
    A mist in the morning
    And the rain on the leaves;
    Each cloud in its calling
    As my soul retreats.

    A HEAVY DEW

    a dog barks
    in the deep forest
    wild bamboos
    where nobody knows

    OVERGROWN WITH NETTLES

    Still a feeling here;
    The chapeh higher up
    On open ground,
    The altar, starred
    With fallen cloud.

  • The one thing I regret is...

    ...listening to the advice of my parents and teachers and staying on at school until I was eighteen. I should have got a job at the earliest opportunity, no matter how lowly or demeaning it might have been. At sixteen there's no shame in being on the bottom rung of the ladder; at least you've already got something to hold on to.

    Of course, my mum was the one pushing for me to stay on in education. She should have gone to grammar school herself, but had to get a job to help financially support the family. So...she attempted to re-live her life through her children by sharing in our experiences of further education.

    Having been brought up in an isolated, insular mining village I so desperately needed to break free and experience life in the outside world, working and interacting with people from more varied backgrounds whilst picking up those valuable life skills which I still lack. But, once you've made the decision to sit your A-levels it's assumed you're then going to go to university and pursue everything that follows. It's very difficult applying for jobs when you're eighteen and all the competition is sixteen, and due to the graduated pay scales any potential employer is required to pay you significantly higher wages for someone who is academically over-qualified for the job, and thus is perceived as being a likely source of instability in the workplace.

    So that's how I began my adult life.

    SEASONING

    Autumn cries a lot
    Her rusty madness wails.

    Uninvited winter hails
    A ruddy rupture lies fallow.

    MICROSCOPIC DETAIL

    All snowflakes
    Are six-sided stars.

    Standing outside
    The old rabbi
    Gathers his flock.

    CHANGE OF SCENERY

    Love lies dormant
    Cuckoo calls
    Still and silent
    Shadows stir.

  • Household appliances I don't own (and probably don't ever need or want to own).

    washing machine
    dishwasher
    vacuum cleaner
    iron

    CHRONICLE

    Heavily the sky embugled
    The isobars sunk everyway.

    On slipped horizons
    The laughed Earth
    On weathercast days
    Without fined particles.

    DEBENTURE

    I have quit the solace of herds;
    Together in the twilight
    I am impervious to poison.

    Ah, to the glory of illusion
    But I am still tired to fear.

    A dog barks at the distance
    "Yes father, I know."

    IN TWO MINDS

    Standing astride
    The Geenwich Meridian
    At Cleethorpes.

    DOPPELGANGER

    On the ward
    An old man dies
    At the very moment
    He was due to fall asleep.

  • The last time...

    ...I visited the cinema; three years ago.
    ...I visited the theatre; five years ago.
    ...I ate at a restaurant; can't remember.
    ...I went on holiday; five years ago.
    ...I was intimate with a woman; five and a half years ago.

    VISITING HOURS

    The crack
    In the plaster
    A few inches longer
    Than this time
    Last week.

    IN THE COMFORTABLE CHAIR

    A quanity of molecules,
    How so heavy a table?

    Time replaced the cards
    There was a new calm;
    'I love you' slowly
    Sitting in the dark.

    POLICY DECISION

    Time's running blood
    A country continues
    A cruel dust gathers.

    HOURS ARE THE SAME

    Even from here
    We have travelled
    With a phoenix of years.

    Already we have witnessed
    With credible hospitality
    The whisper of strangers
    Opened like an insect's case.

  • Titles of books that I'd like to be able to write.

    Every Word Has Its Own Story To Tell

    Collaborative Poetry Workshops As Therapy

    Ancient History Is Not As It Is Taught At School

    A Travelogue Of European Chocolatiers

    Outreach Theatre As A Community Development Tool

    Dramanetics: The Fun And Creative Way To Keep Fit

    The Lost Generation: Unemployment In The 1980s And Its Legacy

    ...Of course, I'll never write any of them; it's an interesting exercise though.

    RIDING A NIGHTMARE

    Your lips open to my hands
    You trouble me each morning
    You have a voice when I'm asleep.

    MEMORY

    The mouth of a day;
    Don't stay for the speeches though
    As time falls across the doorway.

    The day spins,
    Sprint for the door
    Making sure your dreams
    Never leave the safety
    Of your buttoned breast pocket.

    SKY FILLED

    Light white
    Whipped reeds
    Torn blossoms
    A frailty so common.

    Walked by Hoober Hill
    Faces in the spaces
    Between all and each
    Perception missing.

  • Point Of View

    Last night one of my favourite science fiction films was on T.V. - Starship Troopers. I had to miss the final twenty minutes though because 'Lost' was on another channel.

    This film is great fun, very exciting and gory, and many left-wing commentators view it as a parody of U.S. militarism. Of course, I see things differently and consider Starship Troopers to be merely a wholesome, straight-forward portrayal and celebration of patriotism, honour, and duty.

    CUSTOMER PREFERENCE

    All day breakfast
    At McDonald's.

    Later, at home
    -Take your dinner
    And have it for tea.

    JIGSAW

    Daffodils
    Outside a country phonebox.

    No reply;
    I pick a bloom
    And hold it to my ear.

    STARGAZING

    If I'm launched into space
    When it's dark
    How do I know when
    I've left the atmosphere?

    ENTITLEMENT

    She goes to physio
    Three times a week.

    On the next street
    Her friend is too ill
    To claim anything.

  • Not 'third time lucky'.

    Since I moved to Doncaster eight years ago I've attempted to form a relationship with three women. I didn't have any success with any of them; in differing ways I think they all were wanting to use me to their advantage as some form of therapy. I found this situation difficult myself.

    Number one was seriously mentally ill and at the time just wanted someone to talk to and provide a stabilising influence in her life.

    Number two was some sort of drug addict (although she was good at hiding her problem) and was just using the fact of having me around to try and get custody of her children back from Social Services.

    Number three was playing me off as a bargaining chip with her on/off boyfriend.

  • Just Thinking

    I was considering compiling a short list of my favourite things; colour, type of food, clothes etc. - but it's just not relevant. I merely 'choose' whatever is cheap and available.

    DAY OF OUR FIRST ROW

    No flowers. No chocolates.
    Only a clean white handkerchief
    Waiting to be blown.

    FIRST DATE

    For a few minutes
    We danced on ice;
    Then the ice broke.

    UNVOICED

    I never use cliches
    Because I don't know how
    To find the French accent
    On my keyboard.

  • There's no escape.

    A couple of months ago I signed up for the Telephone Preference Service. It's stopped most of the UK originating marketing calls but of course I'm still receiving regular sales pitches from people working in Indian call centres, pretending that they've got English names.

    Now though there's been a sinister development. I'm getting personal visits instead of the usual phonecalls; two visits by telephony providers only yesterday. What's going on?

    I wish they'd all just leave me alone!

  • Museum Visit

    I visited the local museum yesterday, the first time for nearly two years...I just needed to get out of the house for an hour. Doncaster Museum and Art Gallery is actually quite a decent attraction with displays and galleries on local history, natural history and the collection of the local army regiment. Naturally, this being Doncaster, there are a lot of paintings and exhibits to do with the railways, coalmining and horse racing.

    THE WAITING GAME

    So much sagging
    In the sealed off faces of friends.

    CAT scan of a sunlit smalltown street
    -No news yet.

    In coffee shops and library aisles,
    Behind the safety of lowered lips
    A steady loss of words.

    ENGINEERING WORK

    You were never late
    As you walked along the platform.
    Given the timetable changes to your love
    It was good just to know you.

    DIARY ENTRY

    The shop that sells calendars
    Only opens six days a week.

    The owner of the shop that sells clocks
    Has no plans to open twenty four hours a day.

  • My current medical ailments

    1...Piles (or haemorrhoids) - it's worse when they're itching rather than burning...major bleeds three or four times a year.

    2...The early stages of arthritis in both knees; at the moment the right knee is the worse.

    3...A squint in my left eye which can give me headache when I'm tired.

    4...Hayfever (seasonal).

    Overall, not in too bad a condition I suppose.

    MERCENARY

    Barefoot on the burning doorstep
    A small accumulation of dust.

    This morning I bought some new trainers
    And dumped the old ones
    In the green recycling bin.

    GREEN POEM

    This morning,
    I bought a dozen light bulbs
    To plant in the garden.

    AN EASY DIVORCE

    Station announcement;
    All trains are cancelled
    Due to an incident,
    The 08:42 to Leeds
    Has hit someone on the track.

    A few weeks later
    At the coroner's inquest;
    An open verdict
    And no mention of compensation.

  • Two facts about myself and paperwork.

    1...My current tenancy agreement stipulates that I can't keep pets, take up smoking (or have anyone who smokes living with me at this address) or participate in any 'immoral' activities.

    2...My first UK passport stated that I was a 'British Overseas Citizen'; whatever that meant. I don't know why this was the case because I was born in Pontefract.

    HAIKU

    more grey hairs
    than this time
    last year

    reaching for his coat
    he didn't need to consult
    the weather forecast

    ---

    sunshine and showers
    no need to water the garden

    later though, I'd like to go
    to a friend's barbecue

    ---

    shaving for breakfast,
    just confirming
    last night's invitation

    ---

    on the same day
    the last leaf falls
    from the garden oak
    another leaflet
    through my letterbox

    ---

    another sleepless night
    wearing lambswool
    next to my naked skin

  • Favourite TV Series

    Lost
    Twin Peaks
    Wild Palms
    Fawlty Towers
    C.S.I.
    Sherlock Holmes (starring Jeremy Brett)
    The League of Gentlemen

    and most science fiction series.

    HAIKU

    A new moon
    Once a month.

    Pity the sun,
    Older than the hills.

    ---

    sitting in the garden
    enjoying birdsong
    -the phone rings,
    I do not hear it

    ---

    Valentine's Day:
    a lonely skywriter
    ends with a flourish

    ---

    sunshine and showers;
    planting potatoes and flowers
    on the same day

    ---

    twelve o'clock noon,
    a carillon tune
    but no dandelion down

    ---

  • More Favourite Places

    A list of my favourite places (not including Yorkshire, which was listed in a previous blog.)

    Edinburgh
    Berwick-on-Tweed
    Durham
    Lincoln
    Nottingham
    Bakewell
    Matlock Bath
    The Peak District
    London (Museums and Galleries)
    Stamford (Lincolnshire)

    ETUDE

    naked in the bathroom,
    but the scales
    have been moved

    sleepless night,
    unfolding sheet music
    still in the nude

    ARTIFICIAL HORIZON

    rushing home,
    strangers' umbrellas
    always maintaining
    eye contact

    HAIKU

    too much of everything
    at the office party;
    the photocopier unused today
    ---
    mail through the letterbox,
    I briefly stop shaving
    although I'm not expecting
    anything important
    ---
    drafty old church:
    wedding ring on her finger
    holding hands with God
    ---

    on the playing field,
    goalposts marked by two pullovers;
    you show me yours
    and I'll show you mine

    ---
    midwinter storm;
    last night I dreamt
    I was dreaming

  • Three Questions

    1...Why has no-one ever employed me?

    2...Why do women like me bit never fancy me?

    3...Where am I going to find the answers, and what would I do then?

    HAIKU

    downloading the dawn;
    the rising sun clicking
    on the eastern horizon

    ---------

    another birthday:
    morning, noon and evening
    three friends sitting at the dinner table

    ----------

    heavy rain,
    standing underneath the shower
    hoping it'll soon pass

    ----------

    in the classroom
    a ticking clock;
    - every student
    achieving the grade

  • The new James Bond.

    Daniel Craig.....never heard of him!

    * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    Welcome back eggbod....something strange was happening there with the site I'm sure.

    * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    Unpublished Poems.

    I've now used up all of my published material and so will now start posting my unpublished poems. These have all been submitted to magazines; some have already been accepted for publication, others haven't.

    HAIKU

    spring cleaned the house
    scattered cherry blossom
    petals in every room

    ---

    a tractor ploughing
    on the horizon

    in town and country
    tomorrow never comes

    ---

    may blossom
    on a breezy day

    tonight, I'll bathe
    not shower

  • Literary style and influences

    Here's something I wrote which has been sitting about on the net for a few years now.

    A. LEE FIRTH

    INTRODUCTION

    I was born in the last place in Pontefract and spent most of my life living in the last place in Barnsley, but now home is the centre of Doncaster. Due to being actually born in the wrong place at the wrong time the world I now inhabit isn't mine, and never really has been; and therefore like a tormented Russian peasant there is always far too much poetry and vodka in my glass: a very dangerous combination.

    Estranged from mainstream society ( I was pushed, I never jumped, your Honour) I tend to experiment in form, language and subject matter. Minimalism, nihilism, and imagism predominate when I'm writing for the page and I've spent several years looking for ( or devising ) an appropriate word for a piece of work with a title longer than the poem itself. However, when I'm writing for performance there's always a tendency towards surrealism and poetry of the absurd; adaptation of found texts, outrageous suppositions, alternative ( yet plausible ) realities and incessant wordplay. In effect, a much nicer world.

    With a natural staccato delivery I ought to look good in stilletos, but probably don't; not a syllable is wasted in my work and every performance is a personal engagement with the audience: there's no set running order or pre-rehearsed patter. It's poetry in the raw, usually with my clothes on. I absolutely love performing.

    BIOGRAPHY

    Born May 22nd 1962, Hemsworth, near Pontefract. Lived entire life within ten miles of Doncaster. Attended same school as late Poet Laureate, Ted Hughes ( but many years later ). Single. No children. No pets. No smoking.

    Several hundred poems published in various small press magazines and anthologies since 1988, three slim collections produced and intermittent performer/reader at venues throughout Yorkshire.

    Hobbies include hiking on the local moors, attending the theatre and listening to worldband radio. As is often the case, at the moment I've got too much energy and don't necessarily know what to do with it.

    INFLUENCES

    Although I've spent the vast majority of my life to date in small tight-knit and rather oppresive and repressive, now former mining communities; I find it extremely difficult to write directly about this experience. I tend to concentrate on the poetry of consequence; what might happen if...? Therefore parodies and reinterpretations of found texts and dialogues predominate in my performances - classified ads, estate agents' over optimistic write-ups, the language of street furniture and promotional literature.. I like to think I'm as much a philosopher as I am a poet/performer and so often attempt difficult and complex subjects, yet I'm sure my work is accessible and entertaining or else I wouldn't be writing it.

    Unlike many in the poetry establishment I don't incorporate obscure classical references or any overtly religious concepts into my work and don't intend that there is any party political bias in what I have to say: some, if not most, of my ideas are well beyond the reach of traditional Westminster politics. I do not write to deliberately offend or mock, but my work is of an adult nature and can on occasions be quite provocative.

  • Dreamcatcher

    This prose piece was published in a magazine called 'Dreamcatcher' and I've just copied and pasted it from the National Poetry Library website...saves a lot of typing.

    Lee Firth

    The Appraisal

    The project was over, three months late: so was summer this year. It just rained and rained. Spain was still a long way off.

    He was a bricklayer, a skilled profession, but no philosopher. Middle-aged, medium build, middle-of-the-road in all his tastes.

    It was late afternoon: the beginning of the early evening rush-hour. The pavements were crammed with people eager to get home. He shifted his balance and noticed that the slight pain in the bottom of his back was still there, but resisted the temptation to stop and rub it. There was still work to be done.

    Seconds later he bent down to scoop up some more mortar onto his trowel. A single gunshot rang out. His trowel went crashing to the ground. Terrified, but unhurt.

    A few yards away, out of sight and mind, someone had just proved that the world is round. By now the blood from the bullet hole in his lower back was halfway down his leg.

    page(s) 12

    Poetry Library Royal Festival Hall Hayward Gallery

  • Small Talk

    Old Mannie Shoestring had this story...no, this idea; that nobody ever left Donley. That's why the cemetery was so crowded with so few names. That's why the playing fields were so starved. That's why the housing estate was so infested on the Stock Exchange. That's why the food was badly spelled. That's why the buses always stopped in convoy. That's why we all stripped instead.

    That's why the windows in the old buildings were always broken. That's why there are several roads into the town but only a one-way street out. That's why the consistency of the sun is too weak to set and the rain stumbles but never falls down.

    That's why all the lads wear hessian tracksuits and the girls make it up. That's why the newsagents place street maps on the top shelf and the porno mags next to nothing. That's why the Town Hall clock's only got one hand (a secondhand) and its number's up.
    "That's why'" he'd say, "that's why...just ask the question."

    Mannie lived in Towngate, near the Market Place. There was an amusement arcade nearby, right next to the cemetery. As kids we used to hang around the arcade because there was nothing else to do, nowhere else to go...except to school maybe; but that was too well protected, even back then.

    There were always only ever six machines to play; five really though because one was for adults only. Funny though, I never once saw an adult in the place. It was entirely automatic.

  • SMALL TALK

  • Second Attempt

    This is what I was attempting to post yesterday when my screen froze and I lost everything I had already typed.

    SURROUND SOUND

    With difficulty I managed to switch off the projector. The final reel had melted; dissolving celluloid puffing acrid smoke into this no-smoking confinement...the projection booth. For a few random seconds I imagined a pile of old newspapers on fire; spilt stars lost in deepest space, their decaying orbits smelling of bad breath uninterrupted by toothpaste. A thousand whodunnits in cities as yet unbuilt; 'here be dragons' written on maps in every tongue.

    I craned to look through the inspection window. The usherette had dropped her torch, her thrashing limbs pulled through the fire escape by the green-eyed monster - her only legacy, for a few fleeting seconds a parabolic spray of popcorn. Well, for sure now the audience was on its own, left totally to its own devices. "Have a nice day."

    The building began to shake, the auditorium slowly crumbling like the epic decline of an ancient civilisation. Dust chased the hoovers away to the corners as the remaining cinemagoers struggled with their extra lines. Those who had not already escaped as the plot began to deteriorate were now trapped in their seats, held in a deathly embrace by patented tentacles: too scared to scream, too dead to notice.

    I zoomed in, panned to the left and right. Eyes were popping and rolling in the aisles, suntanned torsos legless after an afternoon's drinking, genitalia piled in heaps on the back row...mouths unscripted since the 1920s gasping for air...total chaos theory.

    I sighed and lit a cigarette. What a fucking mess! The auditorium totally unrehearsed, the screen torn right down the middle, the excretia of a thousand critics slowly seeping through the peeling fabric. Aliens...English-speaking extra-terrestrials...meteor impact craters...space debris...temporal anomalies...split infinitives...Men in Black!

    I had to leave now. Immediately. I quickly reached over and grabbed my invite to the next premiere, rushed down the narrow stairs and hit the street.

    Now I had time to think...time to rationalise and contemplate...explain...risk going back...maybe even step inside McDonald's and order an all-day breakfast at an unusual time.

  • Lost it.

    I was just in the process of typing in my longest piece of published work (I don't have a copy on disk) when the screen froze and then when it started working again I'd lost everything. I've noticed the blogsite layout has been changed now though...I must have just been unlucky to be typing at the actual time of the switchover. I'll try at a later date; I've done enough typing for now.

  • Censored.

    Yesterday, my friend Jon tried to read my blog from Govan Library but was denied access due to my use of the words 'oral sex' as a tag. 'Inappropriate or explicit use of language' according to the net censoring program. I don't know if this means that he'll never be able to access my blog in the future, or he'll just be blocked from viewing that particular page; he's registered as one of my friends but still the system won't let him in.

    Of course this has happened with my work before; I'm still banned by Doncaster Library Services for apparently producing a subversive poster advertising a writers' workshop.

  • Work published in Black Mountain Review.

    Service Industry
    A Lee Firth

    At the post office the queues for 'Sex but no commitment' and Commitment (sex optional)' were pretty much the same length. 'I like touching' and 'I like touching up' were placed next to each other. During the days leading up to November 5th one could also purchase fireworks in any of these queues.

    'Foreplay only' and 'Group sex' were sharing a queue today due to staff shortages, so it was impossible to judge the strength of either persuasion. (Of course, it goes without saying that 'Oral sex' devotees lined up next to the confectionery counter.)

    'Backseat of parents' car', always popular with the teenage market, seemed to be moving much quicker than the others and 'No sex please, we're British' being by far the longest queue, trailed right round the clock until it reached Woolworth's, where fire regulations deemed it necessary to be broken up by stewards.

    "The central post office would like to expand its services," one of the counter staff recently told me. "In last year's Annual Report the management stated that they tried selling postage stamps, but customers were unsure as where to lick them, and so consequently sales were poor."

    And what about myself? you're asking, aren't you? Well, I've just popped over from Marks and Spencer where I was tempted to sign their petition to ban master and slave games in the market place; but I didn't bother.

    Home About Poetry Prose Reviews Book Shop Links

  • FRAMED

    It is the City Art Gallery just after closing time; only a few minutes, but enough: no new orders were being taken behind the bar. Everyone has left, except for a young woman who is undressing in front of a large painting entitled 'Woman Undressing'. She bears a slight resemblance to the woman in the painting, long black hair, tall, slim...comely.

    Stark naked now, their eyes meet, the woman undressed staring at the woman undressing. The security camera finds its focus, she will not be disturbed though.

    The human body is a remarkable thing: it can withstand extremes of heat and cold, physical exhaustion and incapacity and yet still recover. It is not an inanimate work of art though and finds standing perfectly still to be extremely tiring, and without movement (of the legs and feet in particular) the circulation of blood is interrupted causing excruciating cramps followed by eventual loss of consciousness.

    According to the time code on the video images from the camera she fainted after twelve minutes and fifty six seconds. The painting never flinched; the security guard was re-assigned to gallery duties: he didn't need to walk much.

  • FOR THE MOMENT

    I am standing on this railway platform again, as I do five mornings every week; excepting holidays, the occasional bank holiday (I don't work in a bank though) and unexpected bouts of illness and indifference: utterly sure of my place in this world, in this city; within my family.

    Over to my left a young girl waits at a safe distance, obviously endeavouring not to catch my attention. A beautiful girl, a stunningly beautiful and sophisticated young woman making her way in the world. She is dressed in dark colours, the heavy pleats of her dress hang motionless; her blouse collar, tight fitting - the only white garment I am aware she is wearing. She carries a briefcase in her right hand and twists her left wrist in order to catch a glimpse of her watch. She is standing directly beneath the platform clock.

    Her complexion is dark, not necessarily foreign though. Her nose symmetrical and unobtrusive, her lips still as the morning. She has a mass of brown hair, with wisps of it tumbling about her right temple. Her mobile phone is silent.

    In the distance the train approaches; I cautiously move closer. I can soon see that it isn't my train though; but it is hers. She makes a couple of steps towards the platform's edge and waits.

    I would take the time to wonder about her final destination; but I know for sure that she's already arrived.

  • We'll see.

    Three new channels start broadcasting on Freeview today; 4More, ITV4 and Sky3...more of the same I suppose.

    THROUGH THE WINDOW

    Anyone and everyone, weary and everywhere; forced to live on their own needs at some time some sort of human contact. We all need it. Allowing for the passing seasons, the time of day, the fickleness of the British weather, the fragility of the human spirit, working conditions, our state of health and so on: one merely wishes to be aware of a fellow human being's arm in close proximity; a comforting thought.

    Any old arm will do, it needn't be long and slender - inviting to the touch; it could equally well be short and stumpy and swathed in several layers of warm clothing and a glove. It could be strong and commanding, take charge of the situation: or weak and feeble - shaking with fear and anticipation.

    Anything, any arm will do to take hold of, to be shown the way. Just hold it tight...never let go...carefully stretch it out in front of you...take aim...and fire!

  • SITUATION VACANT

    It was an earlybird morning: the streets clean and deserted; sugar-sweet to the taste. I was heading beyond my station, but my watch had only twelve hours and as I looked up at the townhall clock I noticed that it was much later than I'd realised, or expected.

    I had to hurry, my leisurely stroll now becoming a brisk walk. In my rush I'd become unsure of the way, or my situation. I was still somewhat of a stranger in town, having only arrived a few weeks previously. I rounded a square and came upon a policeman. Quite breathless and panicky I stopped and asked him the way.

    He smiled, and enquired of me,
    "Do you really need to know the way from here?"
    Of course I did.
    "Yes" I replied assuredly.
    He paused.

    "Let it go. Let it go.", he offered.
    "This is not your town; nor is it my inclination at the moment."
    "But how.....?", I stifled, regaining my composure; slowly placing one foot in front of the other and then lending my weight to the unannounced procession on its slow journey up the steepest section of the hill.

    By now, several yards away, the policeman turned and waved, and stopped the traffic, dead.

  • THE COMPANY OF STRANGERS

    There are four of us, four friends living together at number five. One day we came out of the house one after the other, Steve first, the youngest; then Andy the second youngest, then Mark and finally myself, the eldest. In turn we each sat on the wall which separates our little garden from the street. It wasn't long until we were all sitting in a line on the wall, dangling our feet in the air, but saying nothing.

    People soon began to notice us, some knew us as individuals and some didn't. None knew us as a group. Some began pointing and said,
    "Look. Those four have finally come out of the house in the all-together."

    There's nothing unusual in that, we've been friends and living together for eighteen months now...and it would be a happy, fruitful and contented existence if it wasn't for a fifth person who is continually trying to interfere and juxtapose.

    He doesn't mean us any harm really, but he annoys us and that's harm enough. Why does he intrude where he's not welcome? We don't know him and don't want him to know us.

    Two teenage girls passed by, arm in arm; harmless I suppose. No second glances, no giggles...no comment.

    There is a conspiracy. Across the road, all the houses have even numbers.

  • GET STUFFED

    For the next few days I will posting my published short prose pieces.

    * * * * * * * * * * * *

    GET STUFFED

    The taxidermist arrived pretty much on time; just two minutes late as the crow flies. The missus couldn't understand me.....I wanted to leave alone; I needed to. I picked up my two cases which had been lying in wait in the hallway, kissed her goodbye and closed the front door behind me.

    As I was led down the garden path, in the distance I heard the sound of sirens: maybe police, maybe fire tenders or an ambulance...I didn't know. I asked the driver what it all meant. He knew nothing, and denied everything.

    I got in: just as I was in the process of clumsily fastening my seatbelt as usual, my wife opened the car door and asked,
    "Where are you going John?"
    I paused, and then thought about pausing.
    "I don't know." I replied, "just away, just away from here....away from it all."

    She stepped back, somewhat surprised, leaving the door still open. I reached over and closed it, closed my eyes and woke up lying next to Mary, as I had done every morning for the last eleven years and will do so until death do us part.

    The 07:34 to St. Pancras had better bloody well not be late today.

  • A little more every day.

    Although I'm learning more about computers and the internet every day by trial and error and asking my friend there's still so much that's still beyond my understanding yet.

    Such an example is, where do temporary internet files go? Do they clutter up your hard drive and then eventually need purging somehow? Yet what about downloaded software? I obviously don't want any of this removed from my computer.

    I'm managing okay at the moment though and when I check my 'C' drive there's still plenty of space left...about 17GB so I needn't worry yet.

    NAME-DROPPING

    I walk my dog
    In long detours.

    I cannot really
    Afford the time,
    But he can.

    I talk to the same people
    In the same places,
    They don't know my name
    But always remember my dog's.

    Life's so strange;
    He never told them,
    I wonder, though, who did?

  • A longer poem

    Although the title of my blog is 'Minimalist Poet, Minimalist Lifestyle', not all of my poetry is minimalist/imagist/nihilistic.

    The poem below is actually an example of poetry developed using a process called 'automatic writing' which was first used by the Surrealists in the 1920's and I think is also a technique utilised by therapists to encourage people tpo explore their emotions.

    LINGUA FRANCA (French Kissing)

    Onside...offside
    Inside...outside
    Upside down South.

    The wedding train
    Steams along a narrow gauge gorge
    God above Man's objections of desire.

    Names carved in bark on a family tree
    One and one makes Orwell's
    Nineteen Eighty Four.

    I'd be a better person
    With you at my side;
    At my side
    Sidings become siblings
    Subtleties at the breast.

    Train of thought;
    ("Penny for it, Mister.")
    God as a grammarian
    We all ask telephones for directions:
    Deliberations.

    Fighting windmills in the night
    I dream, therefore I am
    I come here often?

    Reading smallprint
    On your wedding ring
    Socks soaking in the sink
    And wouldn't life be so boring
    Without acronyms?

  • Favourite subjects for casual study

    Language and linguistics:
    Etymology:
    Geopolitics:
    Military history:
    Astronomy and cosmology:
    Political science:
    Seismology and vulcanology:
    Transport economics:

    Of course, I'm not an expect in any of these areas...I just have an interest in the subjects.

    WAITING GAME

    I wish I could paint
    The perfect sky
    A screech of hours on canvas.

    RE-ASSESSMENT

    Today,
    Which is
    The first day
    Of the rest of my life
    Has been
    Nothing
    Special.

  • Safe and Sound

    I was a bit concerned travelling on the bus today; our driver had an obvious limp and kept talking to himself all the time: none the less he has been deemed capable of safely driving a bus which is licensed to carry 75 people.

    SANDWICHMAN

    It was a case of
    jam today and
    jam tomorrow
    as he glanced
    at his watch
    and cursed that
    he would be late
    for the end of
    the world again.

  • Pathetic

    There have only been thirteen mornings when I've woken up sharing a bed with someone (such a rare occurence that I've actually kept count). Because I've never had a job I don't feel worthy of anyone; and of course, I haven't got the required social skills and connections for socialising with women. In fact I feel like I've been frozen in time at the age of sixteen; a school-leaver still looking for my first job and needing to make my way in the world.

    Every day I look in the mirror just to confirm that I'm a 'homo sapiens'; but I'm not a human being...not after all this rejection, exclusion, loneliness and isolation. I'd consider myself to be a failure if I'd actually failed at most things I've attempted, but I've never got that far - no failed relationships behind me because I've never had one, I've never been sacked or made redundant because I've never had a job either...I'm just not allowed to take part it seems, and I don't know why.

  • Spring forward, fall back.

    The weather this morning was very autumnal; cold and misty - which reminds me that the clocks will soon have to be put back an hour with all the inconvenience that causes. Daylight Saving Time...what a stupid idea!

    PROGRESS

    Last week I saw
    My first crop circle
    In a field not too far
    From Rotherham.

    By now it will have gone,
    The field harvested
    Soon to be replaced
    By stone.

    The first verse is actually true; it was written eleven years ago though and I haven't seen a crop circle since.

  • A list of my achievements

    I realise I've been a bit negative in some of my recent posts and so thought I'd offer up something more positive; things that I've done and feel particularly proud about.

    1...Twelve years full-time voluntary work; project development, community arts and publishing, management and fundraising. In particular, bringing community radio and an independent community transport service to the Dearne Valley when I lived there; in total raising about £350,000 for various projects. Of course, I had help from other people, but I took the lead and put in most of the time and effort.

    2...Never having missed an appointment and always being there for people when required.

    3...Always being honest with myself and other people. (This is made a lot easier due to my lonely existence.)

    Just a few positive points.

    NEW YORK NIGHTS

    Fuck
    Don't fuck.

    And the traffic
    On Broadway stopped
    In amazement.

  • My own TV channel

    Over recent days I've been viewing a few documentaries that I've found online. The subjects covered have been:

    Palestinian manipulation of news coverage.
    On campus political persecution of right-wing American college students.
    An archaeological dig at Roman Silchester (Calleva).
    Tourist reports on Roman archaeological sites in North Africa.

    There's still plenty more to discover.

    CONTESTED TERRITORY

    A dialogue of traffic,
    The nod of perihelion,
    The come-on from a thousand stars.

    The game we play
    Mimics a kind of tag-wrestling
    Lasting for countless centuries,
    Each death simultaneously reborn.

    You must excuse us though;
    The planet is our audience.

  • Lists of Favourites.

    Film Directors
    Pedro Almodovar,Bigas Luna,Luis Bunuel,Quentin Tarantino,Ridley Scott.

    Poets
    Charles Bukowski,Wilfred Owen,Hillaire Belloc.

    Playwrights
    Dario Fo,Bodo Strauss.

    Composers
    Strauss family,Ravel,Tchaikovsky,Borodin.

    Painters
    Dali,Picasso.

    WORD PLAY

    Latinised euphemy
    Was the language
    Of the asylum.

    In the mess hall
    There were no empty plates
    Only hungry minds
    Trapped in the colloquial.

  • Confession.

    I've just been Googling 'Doncaster groups' in an attempt to find a group that I might be interested in joining. I spent more time than I usually do on searches, getting as far as page fifty. Nothing that appealed to me though.

    I don't seem to be (and never have been) a member of any obvious community of interest. It's a terrible thing to mention (but it's the truth) that sometimes I'm envious of people with long-term chronic illnesses or social problems such as addiction or criminal behaviour. At least these people know they're not on their own and have a support network in place.

    There's nothing out there for me.

    DECAYING ORBIT

    I woke this day,
    No come-back,
    Only a gentle groan.

    The moon is still the moon.

    Beyond the biosphere
    I slowly piss blood
    Into a recently kicked bucket.

  • Plants still flowering in my garden.

    Dahlias, fuchsias, hollyhocks (secondary blooms), French marigolds, English marigolds. Fortunately no ground frost yet.

    LINES

    As a child
    My father would
    Warn me about
    Sitting too close
    To the T.V. set.

    Radiation; you see.

    Now the Cold War's over
    I read sci-fi in the corner
    Of the living room.

    INSTINCT

    Yet again
    She'd got
    The hots
    For the man
    Who came
    To repair
    The orgasmatron.

  • Recent Holidays

    1...Burgh Castle, Norfolk: Touring The Broads, Norwich and the coast. I always go out of my way to view Roman masonry and so camping just a few hundred yards from Burgh Castle Saxon Shore Fort was a treat.

    2...Eclipse Festival 1999, Plymouth: A bit disappointing since it was cloudy and so we couldn't see anything.

    3...Staying with friends at Brighton whilst attending a weekend music festival.

    Of course, holidays are life experiences which should provide me with valuable material for my poetry; but few of my poems are written directly from experience - I tend to concentrate on ideas and random images.

    WHERE ONCE THEY MINED FOR COAL

    An unmarked grave.

    One day late
    For signing on.

    In the office
    The curtains have been
    Replaced by blinds.

    In the valley
    The one-eyed
    Man is king.

  • Am I Addicted?

    I reckon that I'm spending on average about six hours a day on my computer; is this a lot? It's not as though I've got anything else to do, and I never decline an invitation to interact with people in the real world. I don't spend all the time at the keyboard either, I listen to a lot of internet news and talk radio and download documentaries and news reports.

    SURE BET

    Count the stars
    Tonight my darling,
    Odds you win
    Evens I lose;
    Even an approximation
    Of an approximation
    Is love.

  • Lifelong experience?

    Academic and practical courses I've completed since leaving school:

    The Management and Organisation of Community Groups

    Community Radio Association management Course

    B-TEC Performing Arts

    Introduction to Counselling

    Community Boat Crew Certificate

    Marine Radio Operator's Licence

    I'm still unemployed/unemployable though.
    What am I consistently doing wrong?

    EXPERIMEMTAL PEACE

    Buy one get
    One free kick
    Off the cuff.

    Half-time
    And time again.

    Goal orientated
    The showboat
    To China sinks.

  • What I've achieved this week.

    Not a lot really.

    I've had a short poem (haiku) published in a quite prestigious magazine. Of course, the poem itself was written many months ago though.

    I managed to persuade my landlord of the necessity of completing the Housing Benefit form on time.

    Just a few minutes ago I replaced a lightbulb.

    That's all.

    INSOMNIA

    Somewhere
    where
    sheep
    sleep
    out of
    sight.

    PRIDE

    If you wear a thimble
    When you're darning
    Your master's socks
    No needle points
    Will prick you.

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