Give Me a Guitar

Give me a guitar and a microphone,
Any day.
None of this electronica for no reason.
Just some excuse, some trance to oblivion.
There's no soul, that's taken for granted.
Even the guitarists need to be nasty,
To make good music,
Doesn't make sense, why not get into the studio,
Try and make something emphatic,
Something honest, not crass.
It's got to pass its litmus paper test,
Every Morrisey strewn suburb turn of the screw,
Liar antics, scrum high voice voucher
Mumbling following the sons down their hopeless road.

Word Speak #19

Defender crusty alantic
Stop to send music
Attack the basins frosted glass
Day allows guitars and country cupboard.
Biggest contract contraction in the country,
Someone slipped in something,
Play guitar like ringing the bell
Never without 1
He always had a guitar on
Main focus making music.
Drop of a hat, blind as a bat.
Like a joke the 1 stop
And a drug that won't stop.

Word Speak #18

Open those boxes,
I know what you'll find.
I know the future,  it's twisted inside.
Speak to me slowly, speak to me quick,
The future is mixed, and the fortune skin deep.
Quiet as sunbeam, small as a mouse,
Its clear as the box opens,
Nobody knows what or why or where any number grows.

Metaphorically Speaking

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0CLvzH-6mQ&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Stop Myself From Falling

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOlMzgXIZhI&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Some Singers

Some singers, you just don't know why
Some of em actually get by.
Must be who they know, the style that grows,
With the contacts they make,
And how they powder their nose.
When and oh why must we be subject to this,
Nieve sound of opera that sounds the same, hit or miss.
They may lose their integrity,  lose their desire,
But they have the money to burn in a fire.

Wordspeak #0001

In the little land of destiny,
A vault of sadness dare I say
Stands as masquerade of misery.
All but nothing stands between
Chocolate built houses and candy cane trees.
Its a make believe sundae of bounty full treasure
Still lost but added to oceans and first fruits,
Can go unnoticed, tinged with passion dodger cold
And amazon future banana boats.

Untitled #241013a

Sickly sweet, you want to just leave,

Run away from the wires and the needles.

However, you feel compelled to look,

Compelled to see the work and wonder,

Because of the huge investment,

Being worked on.

You'll stay because of the love you feel,

And the view is so green and pleasant,

You forget, in time and just see the amazing

Being that was made, and known before 

The world began.

Untitled #241013

The plastic bottle on the sideboard,

Electric TV arm up above,

Medicine in the corner, in green, neutral.

Someone, mother, asleep on the bed,

Baby in cot by the window,

Sun on face, blue sky screening in,

A little whimper, then an echo from beyond the door,

A portend of the future.

Stupid radio DJ playing boring songs,

Cards on the wardrobe,

Socks getting warmer,

When baby sleeps mother sleeps too.

WordSpeak #06

So innocent, so joyous,

A midnight feast of curious infinity.

Slowly regenerating, fast moving, mad,

The bright blue sky and the ever changing scenes,

The jewel is ever present, a sleepy head mountain,

Blossoms in Autumn when it shouldn't wander.

Can't keep in the excited smiles,

The wandering eyes,

The ready laugh,

Creates so much life and light.

Light blue and light yellow,

Reflects the suns heavy presence.

The sunshine of my life will float on,

In spirit and in truth.

Untitled #221013

I look out at the expanse of window and watch,
As those immature beasts pass by.
Couples and triplets,
Not wanton with an ounce of future to their name,
Yet expecting the whole world
To fall at their feet.

Some look hallucinated,
Some look up quickly and see
Me, and I turn down,
Become invisible,
Watch the clouds, sunbathe,
Anything to de-clutch
Those globes away from mine.

Those beautiful starlets
Young, able bodied beauties
Thin and blending in,
Keep walking on their career catwalk.

I cling on to the reflection,
With good timing I watch them go in,
And saunter down again as the grown up wanderers patrol
Past, shirts and skirts
Congealed in pens and food.

http://www.youtube.com/user/mpinny/videos

Word Speak #06

Spiral hatch maniacal hyena,
Run pole, laughing the hatchet,
Quick march, gutter belch, sharp
Inch hype, market latch, quest
Presbyterian goose wing, gravy train,
Laughing pig gas, bald headed, philosopher,
Tackle, brick, stick in the mud, blue moon,
Monstrous, cholesterol based acid factory,
Timed, perfection meteor, fueled meal for two,
Hoof, bat friend, envy fractured statuary latch,
Freedom, hanger airport standard,
Battery, port infrared vestibule,
Breaking the end sign, off the trendy
Cat walk, mutter, the mustard bloom,
Dinosaur butter, true light, weighted white,
I before E except after Egyptians ancient,
Loved to have lost, and never insipid, 
Cool and strong but never grown old,
Instead just boiled, greenhouse, sunlight,
Photosynthesis.  

http://www.youtube.com/user/mpinny/videos

Untitled #201013

The tramp, laced with corridors,
Cramped, lampooned in alleys,
Curtailed and cautioned,
Damp and contracted,
Graced and misplaced,
Gentle, like butter on toast,
The edge of street side.

The ghost of the house owner,
Misshapen and lined with 
Sinking fog, that breathes in
And freezes motion
Solid.
The lakes of garbage,
Running around hedges and
Battery car windows,
Have grown to nothing more
Than palatable mush,
Entombed in cigarette smoke
On a rusty, de-wheeled bike.

The mess that we all made,
Still has open wounds.
That weep between the frog
Cries and owl screams.
Once in a while the rain comes
And washes some rubbish away.

A New Arrival

A new arrival comes into view,
From millenniums ago,
It echo's the silent slumber
Of the millions of people born long ago.

A messenger, calling to tell us of the story we need to know,
But  the arrival knows no words,
However, it's very presence tells us so.
It's got grace on it's side, and all over it's head.

Without speaking a word, you know exactly what it needs,
It crinkles and sparkles like a packet of crisps,
Then irons out completely, as if caught by some fallen angel,
Passing through the world of the new life.

Calling out to you, visions of who knows what, in it's tiny mind,
Cancelling out all other things and noises, 
Except the sound of your voice, that acts as stimulant,
When heaven gets a little fainter.

Word speak #5

This is a call out,

To anyone who believes in.

It has to be a mracle,

To have such a thin skin.

Material gladness, comes out of the sunshine.

Back in to chaos,

Wonderful past time.

WordSpeak #04

This beats anything I've ever heard of,

This expectation, this arrival,

Has the anticipation of a thunderstorm,

Or Christmas.

It fills your head with nerves,

Unexpected nerves, ending in 

Confusion, suspension, frustration,

And still it beats anything else that

This life offers.

The miracle of it is profound,

And people say there are none anymore,

Take a look around,

There's lots to go around,

The magic is palpable,

Spiritual guidance is everywhere,

Take a chance and take a trip.

Word speak #03

And so in dreams,

We glide and dip in high and low currents.

On a breath of air,

With skies coloured red and yellow

And orange, deadly night,

Becomes friendly morning.

Between the clouds, little specks of light

Dance into view,

Vision impaired but not too much,

You can still watch out for the beautiful sun,

Peppered stars, a few still visible in the smashing

Day. Flowers wake up, barking dogs stand up,

Deer leap again, sheep bound on the hill peaks

Once more. 

In the dream of green vales, there is such a time as this,

Placed amongst this happy scene.

A New Awakening

A new awakening,

Burning through the airwaves,

Past the toast and tea leaves,

And the cups and the saucers,

Turntables and timetables,

Puzzles and trains,

Can't be late for the six thirty,

Thrifty, can't quite believe it,

Time to wake up when the clock

Turns to unbelievable,

What a vacant trip.

There's no train I wouldn't skip. 

Prayer #01

I believe that you are mine and will never leave me,

You are always here when I need you most,

But never give me what will harm or hinder me.

For most of the time, I moan and groan,

And ask you for wild things,

Things that would fill up my lust and world loving,

So please forgve my selfish ways,

And let me start anew,

As you always do,

Thank you, my friend.

Thank you.

Driving Up the Dusty Lane

Driving up the dusty lane,

Up and down as the valley

Rolls and pulls the vehicle

Into troughs and high ground again,

As on a fairground Ferris ride.

It’s lazy down there,

On the corner where the red poppies

And the hay corn on the other,

Surprise you constantly

With their fire cracked, wind rushed

Red and gold.

All this in a car.

You see everything, everywhere

In a split scene,

Striking, but ultimately lost

To memory,

As soon as you pass by.

But I remember the corner,

Just before the dipping lane,

The rubies and the crowns

Created by nature for nature.

Beckon Me On

Beckon me on, heart

Heart of gold like a tank of tigers.

They rip at my riches,

Juggernauting and might defying,

Crashing silently into my identity.

My heart wrecks

Like a ship caught on the rocks,

I’m splintered hard on the depth defying

Gravity.

Beckon me on blunt charity,

Keeps me guessing

Edging myself upon the slippery pedestal

Which has a kind of

Buttery texture,

As lard has upon the frying pan.

So the tiger tank pounds its energy

Right through my whole heart,

As I, in the shade of

A tree look around

At nothing and bare witness

To nothing as the blood cells fight

The tigers, rocketing their way

Through.

WordSpeak #02

A great photo journalist,

Taking pictures, taking time,

Flying, hoping for the perfect shot.

Making ready the digital magic,

Clicking, spluttering, lens, wide eyed,

Bushy browed, bright blue bucket,

Self pity, enveloped, pushed into corners,

Flittered away on an indian summer breeze.

Writing reports of the African trip,

Seen no longer as a safari,

More a crisis of illusion. 

Breathing locomotive smoke, sideways facing,

Always mentoring the troops,

To take themselves somewhere remote,

Like Antarctic.  

Word-speak #01

Words splatter, whenever I am by your side.

Beach whale shore, new vale over eyes,

Accelerates and kick starts into life

Your bleeding heart.

Feeding frenzy, in house get togethers,

Plunging in and stoning crows,

Belonging together, all in rows,

Sanctify it down, eight beside nine,

Thinking in over quickly,

A pallisade and rhyme.

Killing brain energy, with a single massive cake,

Would fool anyone, if you want to stay up late.

Stupid Bosses

Stupid bosses, writhing around
In ignorant blunder.
Nobody speaks to you, 
Except for their own contemptible good.
The bad things they tend to keep to themselves,
They who are bereft of soul,
Absent of worthwhile matter,
Stubborn in their office,
Of choice and robotic stagnation.

They're an emblem of the code of Jack,
They utter silently, partying
Hard to a diet of
Nonsense tasks and 
Futile audits.
It's hard for the normal people 
To understand the horrible
Nature of the cranking and fuming despots.

Baking in backlog,
Faking in figures,
Jesting with their guts, 
Green with the envy and 
Joy of watching people fail.

untitled #131113b

Inside a plankton cloud,
There are rules to be seen.
Alongside the bombed angels,
Who hide up and in the mist and the fog,
The quality control forgoes
Marble glasses, bend, shift,
A mouse hole, kingdom,
Full of size and strength and white,
Moths flutter around,
Full of air and surprise.

Glass eyed vision, fills the 
Cloud with Jesuit conundrums,
That crinkles and keeps on running. 
In the bottom of his tummy,
There is a complete tank,
Where green and red collide,
In vase shelf bedrooms, in mazes.

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Blame yourself silly,
Leave it to the professionals.
Believe in your kin,
Believe in time,
Don't defend the instinct that creeps back from your crime.
You'll be back to front all day,
Pray for the soul that repents against the unbelievable,
Truth that is part of your every waking moment.

Blame against blame,
Brings negative positive,
Two souls bagging against a brick building,
A stick in the mud,
Criteria making it easy,
To be sleazy,
Anyway bang and bang again,
Juggle with ecstasy
Take over your attention,
There'll be a lot of changes
For the boys and girls.

untitled #111013b

Seeming do, to lovers all entwining.
I'll graft this wire plant into a metal trellis.
Carefully weaving and climbing away,
Graft away all sense of kindness,
In this fortune bereft wood,
Where pronged hands tender
And get spiked where they cannot touch.
Bodies strangle and breach
Back into loving eyes.
Breathing, factious, questioning eyes,
Sanctimonious features
Belie a texture unknown,
High necked jumpers, bought at jumble sale,
Kick away solemnity
And all boasting, with dandelion affection.
Lovers all entwining, defining
Emblematic, keep files,
And collect up the world in one garden. 

Untitled #111013

untitled #111013

In the old thatched cottage,
In capable hands do teach.
Solemn tales are told in,
Mice ridden holes and crevices.
Seamstresses rid the earth of cotton for fathom tired men,
Who plot and decide upon their wicked games.

They play upon the mind,
Incapable they laugh and scorn,
In their cotton garbs,
The blood process of their tidings deceives the goodness
At the base level,
And in the old parched, thatched cottage,
Things just get
Swept up, even the crumbs from beneath the table.
And just empty ruins, empty
Vessels of ruinous parchment.

The base metals of the seamed garbs,
Are lent upon by the wars of this world,
Gobbled up consignments, hiding swords and swearing.
Wooden buildings can't stand up against those stable steels,
And the hooded and cloaked young ones
Stand proud.