Greetings, bonour, what’s happening? Welcome to Lager Time. I’m a bit rough this week, you know the coo: sore throat, cough, headache, tax return. Could be worse. Three new poems this week. Couple of cynical ones with a lighthearted one to finish. All poems below On the large-ups, here’s a link to Dan Cockerill’s site when you can buy his books. He’s who inspired me to do it myself. HIs most recent is Democratic Pirate Ship, it’s very good. https://www.danielcockrill.com/shop Catch me live at Poetry & Poppadums 27th March - at Karamel, Wood Green London FEAT - Murray Lachlan Young, Skye Lilly, me and ho sted by Paul Lyalls If you’re intersted in me coming to do a gig, run a workshop, get in touch. That’s it for now Have a banging weekend Paul TWO TEAMS Two teams are huddled together on the grass, as three boys stand on the sideline both teams are screaming at these kids to pick a side up until this point, the sides picked themselves two kids pick, leaving the last one left to choose he looks at them both this kid knows that both teams have wankers in their ranks, loud-mouth pricks he would rather avoid he also knows that either side would accuse the other of harbouring dick heads, yet will deny, or try to justify the existence of their own this kid also knows that both teams can play and both have players who can pick a pass, time a tackle, finish in the box, split a defence, keep their cool and hold the line under attack he knows they also have a couple of hotheads they both play a different way, of which there are merit to both, he thinks decision time they’re still screaming at him to pick, but he realises that this is the only time he’s ever wanted by these lot neither are interested in what he has to offer, they just want him to make up the numbers he knows they’ll both deny this so he tells them to do one and looks for another game, because there’s aint the only one being played, despite what they think Prairie Oysters show me something for the heart something for the soul I’m tired of the claims and the feel-good messaging snake oil supplements, organic, free-range and expensive it seems the supposed betters among us have it figured self-care routines; long baths and little books of wisdom loving the living and the laughing they got the pieces on the board but are they just pretending to play? I don’t know how to play I’m scared to play and their type of talk makes me want to run away and drown in lager and keebabs I know where that one goes, hence the original question, nothing seems to do it I’m going to fast to slow down too angry to relax too cynical to mediate too sprung too unwind too skint to change my diet trudging through life with brain fluid close to boiling belly corrosive too touch feet fearful of standing still fists full of theory but lacking the minerals for fury where’s that sweet salvation they all speak of or is it all just prairie ousters lacking bollox? PLUMSTEAD CABARET Got down to the Platform at Plumstead London Bridge Bound Eight minute Wait Reached for the Blower Stopped Decided I Wouldn’t This time It’s just too easy Instead, I I went eyes Left to the Steep bank Flats towering Over I spied this squirrel Darting in and out The weeds and Trees Watched Those Little human- Like hands Picking at Bits of food With the Erratic Urgency Of someone Desperate to Get out the Office on a Friday It scrabbled down to The platform All nimble feet Looks at me Then scarpers Behind the Waiting Area I was just thinking To myself how I Enjoyed that Moment When it Reappeared with a Second Squirrel They chased Each other in Front of me Tussled a bit Till the other Darted It was like an Unexpected encore After a surprisingly enjoyable show Almost Forgot About The Twitch From the Pocket Distractor This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit cree.substack.com
