Nick Fisk - www.pure-poetry.co.uk

Celtic Eclipse
 
Two Celtic supporters
Almost eclipsed the eclipsed for me.
A chance encounter -
Almost as rare as the eclipse itself.
 
We’d ignored the anti-hype
And driven down to Cornwall.
These boys the same,
All the way in a hired car from Glasgow.
 
As if written in the stars,
As they, me and Stu sat in their car
Getting stoned the night before,
We just seemed to be the same in every sense.
 
Same taste in music,
Same love of football,
Both liked a smoke –
Simple things, that kept adding up.
 
And as these things may seem like a fix to me,
Especially as I get stoned,
The counter argument is just –
This is real, this is just amazing.
 
And as the sun’s light faded next day
At, as I remember, eleven minutes past eleven,
And I spent half the time trying to roll
A cigarette in the half-light...
 
But still, it was a sight and a half,
As we sat on the cliff’s edge,
On Will’s birthday, August 11th,
Seven years to the day God first spoke to me.

 

The Myth of the Seagull's Law

Live by the law of the sea -
The law, passed down and received,
Seagull generation after seagull generation.
The law that says when to flock, when to eat,
When to to call, when to mate -
Even when to fly alone -
The lone bird is never truly alone.
 
Everything assumed, nothing changed,
Till one bird saw the law of the gull.
He followed the others, but never the way the others followed.
He was never followed, but noticed.
Well liked, but not trusted - he trusted too much.
Well liked, but not loved - he loved too much.
Did he know too much? He seemed to know nothing at all
(Rumours flew round he thought he could fly through walls).
But he walked tall, flew tall, flew high.
They saw his strength, something real.
 
Over time - what changed?
The law of the see was never rejected.
Even, it was respected more.
But just seeing the law of the gull -
It gave more feeling for the law of the sea -
The law passed down and received,
Seagull generation after seagull generation.



Ode To Bridgend
 
A sizeable centre,
But a familiar territory.
Always old faces,
But always new faces too.
 
Always threats
And girls, and breasts
And legs and skirts and heels
And fat slappers and fat lips
And lipstick and perms and bobs,
And the odd pretty girl
And strong accents
And stiff drinks
And beer - much beer.
 
And flirting;
Talk of work, talk of money,
Who’s with who - who’s she? -
Old talk of school,
Of futures unseen,
Of sport, of who’s in the team,
And who’s she?
She’s with me - oh, I see.
And fighting -
Just having a laugh,
Or a fight for the bar,
For a place in the queue.
Or old rivals on the dance floor
Fighting over a bird,
Or over something they thought they’d heard.
 And the music stays the same,
The attitude stays the same,
The humour, the fashions,
The drugs, the stories,
The mentalities, the poets,
The townies, the crusties,
The chips, the jobs,
Ways of life, depression,
Joy, longing, wanting, having,
Everything...
It’s the same old shit,
And then we go home with our cheese & chips.
 
Bridgend’s the place they all call a hole,
So why do I feel it’s the heart and soul?

 

Placebo ECT
 
When is a brain fucked?
Before the process?
After the process?
I don't even know if you
Did fuck around with my brain.
You could have been fucking me around.
Playing fucking mind games.
 
Who is the victim?
Who is being destroyed? How?
Does knowledge increase power
Or fuck you up more?
I'm fucked if I know.
 
Why all the fucking questions?
Fuck knows why you want
To know the truth anyway.
You will always have doubt in your mind.
You will always have ringing in your ears.
Close your eyes.
And don't believe in fucking anything.


 

Days Of Rest
 
On the day Diana died,
I helped my mate lay down some flooring.
In our fag breaks, we watched the ensuing
Events on TV. We saw the coffin being delivered.
 
On the day they found Saddam Hussain in his bunker,
I helped another mate paint his cellar.
We joked about how it could be an underground sex chamber,
As we listened to the Christmas No.1 contenders.
 
So if you’d like to see Tony Blair RIP,
Or some other gruesome leader die,
Invite me round one Sunday,
And we can do some DIY.