Night Driving

it’s just me
and an SD card on shuffle
driving through sleepy Cumbrian towns
past the witching hour

I want to wake the dead
with Billy MacKenzie
phoning his brother up as loud as he can
reminisce at the top of my voice
shouting out biting political satire
outside streets of curtained windows

Windermere
Kendal
Grayrigg
Tebay
Kirby Stephen
the potholes of the Tory years
present persistent danger to life and limb
lurking as they do
in dark tarmacadam

the 66
the bunny highway
grass like an Ecstasy of Gold
for floppy eared friends
gathering on the verge

and then it’s on into County Durham
passing through one Barnard Castle
where it was said
a man once amazingly regained his sight
whilst driving blind

but the streets recognise
what ain’t necessarily so
as these are the pavements
where Dickens once stretched his legs
and cogitated about time
poverty
and bullying

Staindrop
Raby Castle’s deer and ghosts
Evenwood Gate
West Auckland
then left along the 68
through Spring Gardens
Toft Hill
Witton-le-Wear
Fir Tree
Tow Law
just me
and an SD card on shuffle
running on the spot
running up that hill

Copyright ashyvicar April 2023

Rick Astley

you look like
Rick Astley

she said
as she stood with her mates
vodka in hand
on the station platform
waiting for trains

newly coiffured
and cursing Thatcher’s Britain
I was somewhat
non-plussed
hoped it was
drink
that was talking

he promised
to bring me
into the twentieth century
armed as he was
with hair clippers
scissors
and a nice line in mousse

for a proud and out
introverted
indie kid
this was humiliation
travelling as I was
alone
to the fair

today
in the twilight
of late grey
middle age
I smile at this
snapshot
of youthful struggles

yet whilst I might
Roll with Rick now
I will never stop
dreaming
of Ruffians from
Rusholme
and socialist bliss

Copyright ashyvicar October 2022

Nick Cave

to be
minimalist
is best

no words
I write
could capture

a desolation
that brings consolation
in a truly Ignatian sense

but if I had to
refer to
just one lyric

on pain of death

it would be
forevermore
“I don’t believe in an interventionist God”

my heart feels

strangely warmed
within
each and every time

 

copyright a shyvicar 2020

The Screaming Melons

you could say
I was a die-hard fan

at both of their gigs
they banged out the blues
in a feelgood style

I loved them for their name
dreamed of being a part
jealous of their fashion
I bought a blues harp

I could not make it wail
I could not make it moan
like Pete
like Sonny Boy

in my mouth
all tuneless and useless
all teeth and gums

so I salute
those Screaming Melons
the joy their blues bought
in all too few moments

and yes
in flights of fancy
still dream
of making harmonicas
talk

copyright a shyvicar April 2020

 

Bill

you played guitar

a child’s toy
plucked
strummed
singing silently away
music inside your head

in turn I
played halting chords
Morrisey and Marr’s
catalogue
stretching and waiting
but sat on the floor

you couldn’t hear

dissonance
a weight of shyness
mis-placed sevenths
strung to a tune

I couldn’t hear

your melodies
spirit of inspiration
take on the world
lost to silence

hearing and all speech
impaired

copyright ashyvicar 2019