Poetry corner: Vlad

There lives a certain man in Russia today
He’s big and strong, some of his best friends are gay
He confuses gayness and paedophilia
But to Moscow chicks he was such a lovely dear
He can rig elections like in North Korea
The untouchable liar
But he’s also the kind of leader
All men would desire

Vlad, Vlad, Vlad Putin
Pictured topless yet again
You protest far too much
Vlad, Vlad, Vlad Putin
Wrestling a bear again
You’re so handsome, you’re so butch.

He rules the Russian land as if he was the czar
He often poses for photos without a bra
Always posing by raging waterfalls
Inviting the Russian people to admire his balls.
A political Machiavelli
He’s cunning as a fox
But he can’t laugh from the belly
Because of all the botox

Vlad, Vlad, Vlad Putin
Swimming in a lake again
It’s the love that daren’t speak it’s name
Vlad, Vlad, Vlad Putin
Playing soldiers yet again
Deny at will, but we all know you’re game

Vlad, Vlad, Vlad Putin
Poisoning the tea again
He holds no truck with dissenting ways
Vlad, Vlad, Vlad Putin
Tits out on a horse again
A total icon to all of the gays

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Poetry Corner: Trump – a univocalism in U

Fuck; Trump.
Gut punch.

Bull-dung shunts sunburnt rug-brush up rungs.
Grubby, puny thumb up pussy?
Mud-stuck gun nuts shrug.
Spurt bunkum?
Just stunts!

Put up?
Shut up?
Humbug.
Fuck Trump.
Fuck Trump’s Ku Klux Kunts.
Buck up.
Junk Trump’s putsch.
Curb Trump’s unsubtly nuts scum club.
Drum up tumult, spur hubbub,
Shun Trump’s sundry clubs.
Burst bubbly untruths,
Bust myths.
Shuck thy rusty bum-cyst study-pygmy.
Usurp.
Thus turn US un-nuts.

Not resolutions

These aren’t resolutions, but aspirations.

By this time next year, I want to have had my book published (I’m assured this will happen), make a record (I believe this to be achievable) and play some more proper gigs (this is the least likely).

Anything over that is a bonus.

Oh, and not die in the first blast of the nuclear war that man-baby about to assume the White House will launch when someone is rude to him on Twitter.

Albums of 2016

Been a shit year, hasn’t it. At least there have been some cool records to listen to. Like these.

Lucid Dream – Compulsion Songs
Krautrock from Cumbria. Absolutely knock-out stuff.

Future Of The Left – The Peace And Truth Of…

Christian Fitness – This Taco Is Not Complete

This Becomes Us
These three can come as one. First you have a Future Of The Left album which is always to be savoured. Then comes the third instalment of Andy Falkous’s side-project before Julia Ruzicka – Mrs Falkous – sees some of her ideas for bass materialise into an LP. All different, all wonderful.

Solar Bears – Advancement
Their last, sadly. They will be missed.

Swet Shop Boys – Cashmere
Excellent collaboration between British-Pakistano Riz MC and Indo-American Heems. Politically and culturally aware, lyrically intelligent.

CTMF – SQ1
A Billy Childish record. Never not good.

Recordiau Prin – Iechyd Da
A wonderful compilation of Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci covers from a bewildering array of DIY artists. Lovingly crafted and well put together.

De La Soul – …And The Anonymous Nobody
A series of collaborations hallmark the latest from the hip-hop veterans.

Dementio13 – Broxen
This time last year, it seemed like Paul Foster was done with making music, but he couldn’t keep away. Good for us all.

Mr Sterile Assembly – It’s All Over Now
Totally off-the-wall. A bit challenging, but worth putting in the time.

Nat Lyon – Random Walk Theory
One of his best. Dope Bike Man is a highlight of the year.

The Baggios – Brutown
Brazilian bluesmiths return with a blockbuster.

Scott Walker – The Childhood Of A Leader
The score to a film about a 9-year old who would go on to be a dictator. Absolutely astonishing.

Klammer
Second LP from the Leeds punks. Knowing and clever.

Andrew Weatherall – Convenanza
The remix maestro teased this at the end of 2015 and released it early this year. Still sounds great after multiple spins.

Aesop Rock – The Impossible Kid
One of a number of top hip-hop records this year. Very clever.

David Bowie – Blackstar
It was a great album anyway before it took on several new dimensions when Bowie died in January, just a couple of days after the launch. An absolute masterpiece that covers everything from jazz to drum n bass.

Wave Pictures – Bamboo Diner In The Rain
The prolific trio with another record packed with great tunes.

The Brian Jonestown Massacre – Third World Pyramid
It does what a BJM record ought to do and does it well.

The Avalanches – Wildflower
Almost worth the 16-year wait.

LA Salami – Dancing With Bad Grammar
Astonishing. This guy needs to be the next big thing.

A Tribe Called Quest – We Got It From Here…
Maybe the most important album of these strange times in which we live.

And that’ll probably do. What are there; 23? I know I’ve left a couple out so I may come back and add stuff, but that’s a fair cross-section of what’s been flicking my dials this year.

Poetry corner: America, you’re a twat

“Keep off my ancient lands!” cries she
“Send your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost back to sea”
America, you’re a twat.

Your new President has extremely thin skin –
An open racist has just got in.
The KKK are celebrating the win.
America, you’re a twat.

You’ve had 200 years in which to grow the fuck up.
The whole thing runs the risk of blowing up
When you see that you’ve been sold a pup.
America, you’re a twat.

Fucking Donald fucking Trump?
That compulsively lying fucking chump?
With you and your country I’ve right got the hump.
America, you’re a twat.

The whole thing is just fucking absurd.
Into a maelstrom we’ve all been hurled.
And now begins the end of the world.
America, stop being a twat.

David Bowie would know what to do.
I’m starting to think he was society’s glue.
Oh, to go back a month or two
When America was less of a twat.

Poetry Corner: This is why I drink

Government by plebiscite.
Opposition never to be seen.
A supine press obsessed with clickbait articles
That encourage you not to think;
This is why I drink

Crowing about the hill of beans
You outright lied to win.
And when it goes tits up and I say ‘I told you so’
You kick up a right old stink;
This is why I drink

Wake up too early, travel to work.
Sit in an office for a few quid an hour.
Go home, eat tea, go to bed.
Repeat until you’re pushed to the brink.
This is why I drink.

Pills for depression, pills for the pain.
A buggered ankle, knee and hip.
A constant voice in the back of my brain
Reminding me I’m hardly in the pink;
This is why I drink.

Public sector pay freezes.
Social security cutbacks.
People being left on the scrapheap.
From its responsibilities government will quickly shrink;
This is why I drink.

Emboldened racists, empty patriotism.
A government that think it’s alright
To demonise the other
In an attempt to appease fascistic doublethink;
This is why I drink

I also like beer. And pubs,
And the people that staff and frequent them.
It gives me a space to forget.
Away from life’s horrors and tedium to shrink;
This is why I drink.

The years go by as quickly as you wink.
This is why I drink.

Poetry Corner: Lest We Forget

Every November
The great and the good gather
At the Cenotaph.
They’re all very solemn.
‘Lest we forget’, they say.
And I look around
Through the rest of the year –
At the hate,
The intolerance,
The poison rhetoric,
At conflicts ongoing
Around the world –
And it’s clear to me
That they –
That we –
Remember
Nothing.