SOHO Sleazy conurbation Of bars, clubs and cabaret shows Home of free thinkers and heavy drinkers Sharp dressers and cutting-edge messers Dirty, smelly, noisy Soho Spotty chain-smoking youths M…

Source: SOHO

 

http://shoutmybook.com/featured-book/shiny-red-honda-tom-obrien

 

 

KEN AND JOE

Ken bought a hammer

He said it was to cure Joe’s stammer.

It certainly did that!

 

NARCISSUS

Ilike your body

I like your smile

I like the way you have with style

I like the way you pout your lips

I like the way you twist those hips

I like your stately, gorgeous head

I bet you’ll look as nice when dead

I know you know I’ve always liked you

I only hope you like me too.

 

 

 

 

 

I Have Started to Say by Philip Larkin

I have started to say

“A quarter of a century”

Or “thirty years back”

About my own life.

It makes me breathless

It’s like falling and recovering

In huge gesturing loops

Through an empty sky.

All that’s left to happen

Is some deaths (my own included).

Their order, and their manner,

Remain to be learnt.

 

I have been saying the same thing myself for years now!

 

INSPIRATION

 

The midnight muse does not wait
For the lure of silver at someone’s gate
Nor the rattle of chains in rust-red splendour
As the moonlight beams on the night so tender.
The midnight muse has something strange to tell;
‘Silence is violence’
Say the damned in hell
To speak is to live not bound by chains
When an empty silence is all that remains

 

 

 

LOS ANGELES

From dream factory

To nightmare landscape

Eternally self-renewing

And all but used up,

The hot LA nights

Spiked with a Santa Ana wind,

Capote, Faulkner, Mailer, Fitzgerald, et al

Haunting the many-faceted gin-mills,

Looking for characters

For the books they were soon to write,

Hockney hobbling to

The marijuana  store

To smoke away his many ailments,

Drinking Chai tea with the other lunatics,

Down Venice way

The ancient muscle men on Muscle Beach

Doing press-ups

And pull-ups that demean them,

Hollywood writ large on the hills

And a jaded sign on Santa Monica pier

Saying ‘Route 66 ends here’.

PARTING

The sun also rises over concrete

Over this puff-adder sky

And the pricked-up chimneys

Looking like piss-horns in the stark morning

 

There are no shadows yet

On this marbled plain

So tender in years

But so sparing with love

 

I shiver at the bus stop

Admiring this proliferation of granite;

So cold, so hard,

So like you….

couldn’t resist copying&posting this.

TRUMP – a poem by Stanley Moss

to the worthless poor

The moon, the sun, every twinkling star

has Trump’s face, every snowflake.

They say he’s suing Louis Armstrong

for playing the trumpet,

the Rockies, the Himalayas, the Alps

have changed their names to Trump Humps.

Trump’s barber has made a fortune

selling Trump’s cut golden hair,

his broken wind: north, east, south and west,

Trump’s Spray Aftershave,

the rage in Paris, Piccadilly Circus.

Aphrodisiac for aphrodisiac,

bottled “Trump Dung,” sometimes counterfeit,

is traded on the Shanghai black market

for less potent rhinoceros horn.

(The tone “dung,” in my wonderful Chinese,

means “as if” and, at the same time,

“distinguished person.”)

 

I heard Christie’s sold, at free port Zürich

by “private treaty,” a Trump toilet seat

on which he sat for prosperous years,

for the price of a Rodin bronze Thinker.

I am prepared to wait till Hell freezes

for the Security Council to vote

the Atlantic, Pacific, and Mediterranean

to be renamed Trump Oceans.

Every Silicon Valley kid knows, finally,

when all the holy texts are drowned,

Trump Ocean will cover Trump Tower—

the one Good Book afloat: The Art of the Deal.

Last thought: I daydream Trump, son of Queens,

is King Richard the Third, sun of New York.

Our Father who art in Trump Tower,

hallowed be thy portfolio,

thy casino come, thy will be done

in real estate as it is in Heaven.

 

 

Twitter user Rummer has shared this amazing document, it’s a “barred list” from The Half Moon pub in Herne Hill, a list made by the staff to help identify troublesome punters and stop them coming in. You need to read this in full, slowly, it’s like reading the cast list for the most British gangster …

Source: This ‘barred list’ from a south London pub is the best thing anyone has shared on Twitter today