Half Hour Spent Well (adult material)

Fuck me, rub me, lick me, suck me
Put parts of you deep inside me
Make me forget I have a heart
Take away the shame when I fart
Stroke me, caress me, and then: suddenly choke me
Make me forget what happened at the start
Cover me, smother me, swallow me whole
Put parts of me inside your every hole

Gently lick me, violently flick me

Make my orgasm your goal

Tell me what I should do
Make me do that thing to you
Tell me what you’re really into
‘Til I don’t know who’s in who
Do it ‘til I can take no more
Treat me like a dirty whore
Ignore me when I say I’m sore
Bite me ’til I’m bruised and battered
Keep doing it when I’m shattered
Don’t treat me like a treasure
But find another way to pleasure
Yourself at my expense
If I relax, make me tense
Crawl underneath and use your teeth
Don’t wait for me: dominate me
Do that from above, but do it all
In the name of love.

Old Nun’s Head open mic review 31st Oct

Arriving at venues early suits me: it stops me drinking early (go figure) and allows time for problems to be solved without panic. Like not being able to find the mic stands or house guitar! That happened. They were in the office not the store room. Thank you, Alex.

While Alex searched, Kinde turned up, he’d played the Queen’s Head a couple of months ago and it was great to see him. Ian Dearlove arrived next. Jules is someone I’d never met but took an instant liking to. He’d had a long walk from Brockley but was in a good mood anyway. I knew the next people were coming but it still brought joy to my heart to see Trevor Barham, Andrew Brown, Jason James and Matt Guy. Caroline Doolan had texted to say she was coming and was going to sing!

While I was downstairs checking for any more performers Matt was chatting to Rich and Ollie, it seemed, to me that I had met ‘The Howler’, as Matt had called him so didn’t introduce myself properly. Later on I sorted that misunderstanding with an apology and proper introduction.

The vibe was good, the stage set, I’d done my wander around the pub letting people know that the gig was about to start.

Matt had his guitar in hand and tradition states that he starts the night, so he did. Excellent sounds tripped off his guitar and his voice was clear and controlled. At the end of his set I felt like I had been on a wonderful journey across country America by train. I even had the sound of it’s hooter in my ear.

Kinde’s from Cuba and his command of the language is fine but obviously there are some doubts in his mind over the correct use of different terms, more about that in a moment. I simply love it when people perform in their mother tongue, even if I don’t understand the words, without translation they don’t lose their feeling. So it was with joy that I listened to Kinde’s first song. Then came the difficult and funny part: to introduce his next song he started by saying “When I was a teenager, I practiced sex in the park.” As he said this he dipped his hip, but because we sniggered and giggled, he got nervous and repeated it which made us uptight Brits giggle more. Every time he said it he dipped and we laughed, eventually he realised that we were being childish and got on with his set, which was very well received. Although Ian had arrived early he wanted to play a bit later ‘cos he had a friend coming so Trevor was up next in his place.

A Bloke In A hat sang a song I’ve heard before but for some reason it seemed new and touched my heart, it’s called ‘the way you used to be’. His next song is titled Elephant and Castle and a lot of us know it for it’s humour and catchy chorus, which we joined in with, we’ll also always have The ‘Elephant and Castle’. Last up in honour of the date was an excellent cover of The Monster Mash, I and a few others did it.

Jules performed 2 songs, the first of which entailed great guitar work and Jules showing his vocal excellence. The second was simpler but it too showed off his skills.

Andrew Brown and Jason James are Henry My Son as I knew them as individual performers I had told them they could do 4. Before they started I performed, with a scary mask on, my poem ‘Depression’ I hope it freaked a few people out.

Then we returned to the musical performances. Watching the two boys in perfect harmony through the first one was wonderful and if they hadn’t smirked at each other in the second, we may not have noticed the slight error. Their third took them back to unison and harmony and they finished on a song that Jason’s dad used to sing to him called ‘Henry My Son’ an accomplished cover and excellent set was over.

Caroline hasn’t played for a while (busy teaching the youths of London) but she didn’t falter. Lost in emotion, she played and sang with pathos and love. There was a gorgeous moment when she asked us to wait ‘cos she was on drums (electronic keyboard). Two originals and a cover later and we applauded her off the stage.

Howling Horton (Horlon/Morton were two of the other names I mistakenly called him) has a beautiful electro-acoustic guitar and he played 3 original songs that filled the room with rhythm and emotion. His banter with the crowd was close on cheeky but definitely funny and he left the stage to great applause.

The surprise act was Ollie, who had said earlier that he was a bit shy and might or might not play. It is always a pleasure to me that these people play as it means that they feel comfortable and happy. Using The Howler’s guitar he played with confidence, obvious joy and a sparkle in his eye. Finishing with a choice of a song about foreskins or Dale Winton we listened to the ‘autobiographical’ story of Mr Winton dissing his wife.

Finishing the night with fiddle, flute and song was Sarah-Jane, beautiful songs, wonderful banter and a favourite of mine ‘dance, dance’ to end. Perfect.

That was a great night with quite a few locals popping up and staying, some left because of the cold but only because of that, heaters on next week please?

How the night went was that perfect mix of friendship, luck, calmness and great music. I’m very grateful to have it logged in my heart. Thank you all. Another piece of my appreciation to the kitchen and the bar staff, Thank you too.Image

Queen’s Head open mic review 6th Nov

Sometimes nights are full of passionate embraces of music, sometimes it’s a cuddle, last night was a snuggle. Warm, cosy, comfortable. Mikey Fitz was already plotted up with a friend when I arrived, but the pub was fairly empty apart from that. Ant Smith had popped in to return my rucksack that had carried his airbed, borrowed at Gypsy.

I set up, Ciarran arrived, and I hadn’t seen him since the last Star of Kings before Christmas. He knew Ant from the same place, so that was cool, the three of us chatted and while we were Emily White joined Mikey and his friend. Carlo, Paul and a friend arrived. Some more locals turned up and we began the night.

Although Mikey had arrived first, he and Emily would be sharing a guitar so I asked Ciarran if he’d kick the night off. Bloody good choice it was too! Gentle warm covers floated from the stage and warmed the empty chairs. It was a wonderful delicate beginning. Unique Technique dropped by and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to set up the CD player without my superstar soundman, but I sorted it and felt very proud of myself. But he wouldn’t be on for a little while, and I hadn’t proved that what I’d done would work…

So onwards into the delightful world of Mikey, where reggae meets folk with an Aussie laid back attitude. I’d mentioned that he takes too many holidays and his first song dealt with coming home, perfect. He puts me in mind of Finlay Quaye when he was modest. Maybe F. Quaye still is, Mikey is and constantly comes off stage having made my life better without so much as a hint of self importance.

Setting up for Emily was easy, just had to move the mic stand a bit and we were ready. Same guitar but a decidedly different sound, less reggae, more ‘classical’ folk but there’s a lack of prissiness about Emily that I’m glad to mention, there’s warmth that kind of growls out of her.

I’d called Carlo and Paul in so that Paul could warm his ‘daf’ drum, which is a Middle Eastern version of a Bodhran.

However, Lenny (I think) jumped up and said “I’ll go on now.” Donning his glasses and retrieving some paper he strode purposefully towards the stage.  Right then! I jumped up and got the mic at the right height and moved back towards the mixing desk to get the sound sorted. He began, but didn’t feel comfortable with his first piece so moved on to his second.

Getting the sound right was difficult, there was a lot of ‘booming’ going on, betwixt the guitar, voice and drum. Every time I managed to get it right I lost Carlo’s guitar. This is where a proper sound engineer and equipment would make a difference. I stumbled through and the boys made adjustments as I did, losing their selves in music seemed the best way through it and when percussion changed to a djembe their excellence shone.

Sometimes when I listen to Carlo, I think that he’s famous and comes down to get away from his fame.

Unique Technique asked me, when he arrived, should he do a new set or old and I told him what I tell everyone. The stage is yours to do what you like. He chose well, 3 excellent songs in a great set. His lyrics are very personal although he tries to make them about types; you can’t spit those lyrics in that way without your heart being the most important part. Properly crafted lyrics from a decent geezer.

Talking of lyricists and wordsmiths, Bryan had arrived from the studio where he’d be laying some of his poetical excellence down and was in the mood for a slot…

Regular Russ had arrived too. Doc and Stephen were in fine fettle and were happy to hear Russ before they went on so I grabbed him onto the stage before he’d finished his first drink; usually he has to wait a little while.

In moments he’d turned into the performer of classic originals what he wrote before he was born with an invisible pen on burnt paper. There’s a lot of funny behind the quality of covers he does. There’s always a smirk beneath the eyes as he tells us “fuck you”.

Doc and the Bone warmed up while music played and latecomers arrived, some friends of the bar others friends of the night including Tom and Dan from The Black Sparrows.

Doc and Stephen lost their way a little on the first tune, but soon found their feet and knocked out another 3 before asking can they do one more. They had lovely eyes so I said yes. It was a good finale to their set.

Beadyman flowed smoothly tonight, voice clear, rhythm sweet, connection with the audience excellent. All components in the right place. Solid set.

One of the locals, who I first met at Thursday’s karaoke, had a friend who said he’d like to sing. Slight panic built, but hey, it’s an open mic, right? He knew what he wanted to sing ‘Dock of The Bay’ he hooked up with Russ and they had a little rehearsal.

 Dan Hunt took the stage in the meantime and danced through a few favourite poems making us laugh and think while he pushed the limits of speed to new limits. He pronounced each word, keeping his own unique rhythm while his body moved at the speed he wanted to be going. At one point I thought he was going to put his hand up and ask if he could go to the toilet!

Patrick, the local was ready and so was his guitarist Russ. They got up and just started before I’d had the chance to introduce them. It was really nice that Patrick got the chance to perform and Russ was completely on his side. Watching his metre to fit Pat perfectly.

The surprise? Sarah-Jane, Tom and (at first) Dan on drums! Dan dropped out before I’d set up, so I asked Stephen to help out which he was happy to do. They did Fulsome Prison or whatever it’s called, it was excellent.

Beadyman was in such a good mood that I thought it would be a good end. You know, a proper local and regular seemed like a nice way to finish.

Even quiet nights are good down at QH. Thanks to the chef for the pizzas (could have done with another one but they were ordered before everyone arrived.). Thank you Candy for your excellent service and fabulous musical choices and thank you Dewi for your continuous support.

Peckham passion player

Shady, sly, underhand, conniving,

For acceptance always striving.

Conning, lying, cheating, stealing,

Spouting words of love without any feeling.

The rhythm’s right but the heart is missing,

Only using my lips while kissing,

Keeping emotion far away,

Saying “I love in my own way.”

Tricking, changing, quickly rearranging

Each one I kiss is just exchanging

The love I have for the love I lost,

The one that turned my soul to frost

Allows my heart to burn with desire.

So I light and feed your fire

Push your buttons and your limit

‘til all you want is me, innit?

I wish you heaven

So, alone now? No longer fighting for loves lies heard as truth.

(So alone now. So alone now no longer/fighting for lover’s lies) No longer listening to the soulless soliloquies about how they have proof of where they were and what they didn’t do, in places they hadn’t been.

Free from cold passionate embraces, smells rising/coming from people they hadn’t seen.

No more snuggles, cuddles, butterfly kisses, stroking, caressing, spooning or mooning, over; moments of beauty, sunsets or mists, moonlit walks or honest late-night talks, reasons to be kissed.

No you don’t have to wait up, make up, share or care. (No you don’t! We have to make up, will you wait up? Can we share? Show me you care.)

No more tears or lonely fears that they won’t come home or come home on junk, change from loving partner to violent drunk.

You can (can’t) sleep alone, switch off your phone, meet those friends they didn’t like, watch your shows, ride your bike.

You can dance with strangers, take risks, face dangers, argue your point, roll your own joint, go without, have too much, allow yourself that second touch.

Your choices are your own, no hardly hidden muttered moan, no tuts or sighs, no whispered “Why?”s

Your reasons don’t need explaining. no listening to complaining about how long, how far, how this is right and that is wrong or to that ridiculous song.

You are free to be the things you were before they came, to be yourself (you’re not the same), to be all you are, the best you can be, you can be you and no longer ‘we’ (I can be me).

It doesn’t matter how I feel after

In the darkness of my mind you will find a scared lonely child, heart and soul defiled.

Hating you and yours, imagining all women as whores, all property as free or at least belonging to me.

A vicious snarl, bitter eyes, sometimes a smile but only for disguise, to trick, twist and open your heart, so with what I want you will part, be that love, food or money and if you don’t hand it over, I’ll just take it ‘honey’.

Sweet words flowing from my lips will blind you, cause an eclipse of reason, each kiss is treason, each touch treacherous, but you won’t see me as lecherous ‘cos I con myself into belief that you are my relief, that we are all I’ll ever need until my desires you feed and then after I have won and your resources are all done, when I am sated, ‘our’ moments will be replicated with another lost in pain, I’ll take romantic walks in pouring rain, give butterfly kisses and start to fulfill their deepest wishes.