Get up get on the scene give it a rest

I had a definitely not sex tape
it was just a C90 cassette
fucking google it, I can't
do all the work for you

One side was Mazzy Star
the other was the Cowboy Junkies
so carbon date that, in fact
it was 1990

    - Here he goes again
      reminiscing from the rocking chair

Now *sucks a thoughtful tooth*
you youngsters might not preciate
how on the right system
these C90s could auto-reverse
so you didn't have to get up and change
the tape some say cassette
while entertaining
horizontally, or do
I mean vertically, hee hee

    - grandma please make him stop

Not that I'm claiming I was some
sort of 90 minute Casanova slash
Lothario stroke Hoochie Coochie Man
back in the day, oh boy

    - I think it's time for your nap

    - can we unplug him?

The Trawl, 1979

My new thing was
collecting records, or
vinyls as we now have to call them ffs
you people make me sick

There were Record Fairs where
collectors gathered in fusty
church halls
to part with their cash after
flicking through
boxes stuffed with
trash and treasures

At my first one, armed
with all my pocket money
a teenage fiend
hungry for relics,
I scored nine well-used items
for an absurd £13 (and my poor
mother provided £3 of that)

        Paranoid

        Aoxomoxoa

        Surrealistic Pillow

        After the Gold Rush

        In Search of Space

        Safe as Milk

        Strange Days

        Hot Rats

        Yes (self-titled)

I was well into being a
suburban hippy for a few months
before many other
phases of the moon
and I stand by every one

Of course now, as an ancient,
olden and also aged man
    my eyes are dim
    my back is bent
    my knees are knacked

I am looking to sell my collection
  clear some space
    maybe
      keep a 100 'vinyls'
        you people make me sick
and these will form part of that 100

In Search of Space
has the original 'gimmix' sleeve and
24pp booklet, so that's not going
anywhere, even if
I have nothing to play it on

All Lit Up, 1990

This may be more than 

a little undignified 

to record but

when I was in you and

everything was on fire

you looked into 

my eyes

delighted

surprised

and said YOURE

SPARKLING

and yes once I was

The Parliament of Caws

KRRRT-chack! (Old One-Eye snaps his beak, wings puffed.)

CHREEE-Kaa! (Young Tailflick lands beside him, tilting her head.)

Old One-Eye: Krrt-chack! Krrt-chack!
A warning: sky-fox (hawk) nearby. Sharp wing. Fast death. Stay low.

Tailflick: CHREE! Chree-ka-ka-ka-KA!
Disbelief. Bravado. She flew near it. Stole a beetle mid-glide. No fear.

Two-Wing-Drum: DRRRRR-kak-kak-kak! (Wings slapping trunk.)
Challenge. Boast. He saw her. Beetle was already dead. Empty glory.

Tailflick: Ka-KA-KA-krrrrrp!
Insult. Two-Wing eats rotten fruit. Mind like snail. Beak like old bark.

Chirpette (a tiny, newly-fledged thing): tzeep-tzeep-tzee?
Confusion. What is “death?” What is “hawk?” Can you eat it?

Old One-Eye: GRAWWWK. (Low, guttural.)
Silence. Night is coming. Time for truth, not noise.

(All birds still. Then, slowly, a rattling murmur builds—)

All Together: chrr-chrr-CHAAA, kr-kr-ka-KAW, chreeeee-CHACK, tzzzzrr!
The Sharing begins. Gossip. Echoes. Stolen things.

Bent-Beak: chack-chack. Chack.
He found shine. Blue-glass-circle. Deep hole near water.

Three-Toe: Krrreeek! KA-ka-ka!
Jealous. He saw it first. Bent-Beak just louder.

Tailflick: cheeeeeeee. (Slow, high pitch.)
Dream. She flew so high her wings turned to cloud. Chased stars. Bit the moon.

Old One-Eye: KRRRRAW-CHAK.
Reminder. Dreamers fly crooked. Sky is not gift. Sky is blade.

(Wind rustles. A squirrel chitters nearby. All heads snap in unison.)

Chirpette: tzee?
Can we eat it?

All Together: KAW-KAW-KAW-KAW! (A terrible cacophony of agreement.)

No one flies. Just noise. Noise is hunt. Noise is dance. Noise is magpie. Twelve dark shapes tuck heads into wings. One eye each on the moon. Still dreaming of shine.

Found note

I don't think we're put on this earth to
live alone

Basically, I think we were put here
to suffer
as much as possible

Pew pew

Speed! Speed!

Crash Crash Clonk

Unidentified laughter
resulting in a torrent of [checks]
4.30a.m. summer bright morning
profanity which I, for once, am
too polite to transcribe and

Some of which I admit emanates
from my semi-slumbering form

Crash Crunch Pop

I ask, mostly to myself, wtf
they are doing down there
and why there

Pad and squint through the curtains
old school twitcher

A brutish fellow and his Speed hound
kicking trash and cursing in an area
he really has no business inhabiting
although I have no legal claim upon it

Would it really be a crime
if I somehow came into possession
of a 3D printed weapon and
peppered perhaps sprayed them
with a volley of fast dissolving ice shards
not bullets
which I have just invented

Yelling at the blameless Speed
and hurling abuse at the red faced cackler
woman on the balcony to the right
hair like Mr Whippy
vaping gleefully

Slamming her window open and shut
in rhythmic provocation
punctuated with some well-honed
sing-song insults

While he's kicking a can along the path
calling her one name over and over his
vocabulary failing him
his energy slowly depleting

One volley for you, one round
for you, spare Speed, and
no one would convict
me, my aim is true

Thank you Richard Coles

Sometimes we need to stumble
across permission
confirmation
for our proclivities, like

When you said you'd just like to
'walk around looking at things'
in your retirement

And there you are seeing
little brown sparrows
in the rippling flat top hedge

Dressed for the rain
walking in the zone

Comparing avenues of tree trunks
to cathedrals

Admiring the prehistoric
Highland fold

Water and tinnitus
the soundtrack to our days

Speaking of
liquid light as
a medium of the holy
and living in a
three-dimensional theology

A blaze of light
floods the valley

Yes, we need
silence and retreat
yes, we need
contemplation

We need to look
a bit more closely
and shut up
a lot more