PowellPoetry a selection of poems by John Paul Powell

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PartTwo

After hours of searching for the right words, I met two friends: King Horse and Elvis. They passed me these words, which of course should be passed on to you people.

King Horse

Cheap cut satin and bad perfume

Showtime is almost here

Teased up by a strip cartoon

Laughing up your sleeve

Sniggering in your beer

He’d seen the bottom of a lot of glasses

But he’d never seen love so near

He’d seen love get so expensive

But he’d never seen love get so dear

Now I know that you’re all King Horse

Between tenderness and brute force

She can turn upon a sixpence in the mouth and trousers set

Hit the bill, ring the bell, never spill a sip

And still she knows the kind of tip she's gonna get

A lot of loose exchanges, precious little respect

When it’s someone else’s weekend

That’s the best you can expect

So fond of the fabric

So fond of fabrication

From comic books to tragic

Through the heart of complications

Meanwhile back in some secluded spot

He says ‘will you please?’ and she says ‘stop’

If I ever lose this good thing that I’ve got

I never want to hear the song you dedicated tonight

Cause I knew that song so long before we met

That it means much more than it might

Sun, 30 Nov 1997 14:39:46

*

Yesterday

Right, yesterday, I was in the library as I usually am at this time. The clock strapped to my arm mentioned that the time was somewhere between nine and ten, you see the man who controls the minute hand had only recently returned from a holiday somewhere which meant he had not yet become in control of his work schedule.

Your all wondering where he went on holiday aren’t you? Well to be honest, we’ve all known him for a few years now, nearly twenty-five, this was his first holiday. He wouldn’t tell us where he was going, in fact we knew he wouldn’t, or at least I did. At least I did what?

Anyway the books in the library were kind of dusty, all with dark and

Tatty leather cases, it was as if I was part of some film, you know where I find a book of ancient words, or a treasure map, just like being up in your grandparent’s loft, with the old paintings, put there years before anyone was ever born.

Anyway I looked around, there was a man standing, there were three seats next to him, but still he stood, I could see this was a ‘big’ moment in the library, as all the staff were peeking above their half-glasses they wore to go along with the stereotype that the general public had tagged them with since, well since something.

Anyway this was the moment they had been waiting

so long for, and they knew they would have a story to tell on their arrival home.

The book in the mans hand had a title of some length, it read,

‘Ten thousand hands around my fingers,

seeing my world burn to cinders,

suddenly I don’t seem so wise,

when your truths tell a million lies’

After all this everything fell back into place, as I wandered off to the

chippy, which seems to be tasting worse everyday. I don’t know why, same people, same potatoes, same place, same time, everything was the same apart from the taste. My explanation is ‘taste-bud puberty’, you know when all the things you once loved/or said you would never eat become, oh you know, you start eating

plain crisps, I mean cheese and onion are top of my wanted list sometimes, anyone else experienced the taste-bud puberty yet ?

Well that’s what went on yesterday during a break I was handed, only fifteen minutes, but obviously I had to estimate this.

Sun, 7 Dec 1997 07:18:27

*

Well, it was quite some time ago now........

I mean I was about seventeen and a half, something clicked, well the notes say so, although my feelings at the moment tell me that it was all lies.

So, I think at the time I was off to explore something, nothing to do with the maze I was in at the time, this kind of formed around me as I walked a straight sort of path.

Anyway it was just before dinner, I saw something which resulted in this, my explanation is poor due to the length of time between the notes below and the present day :

On the day in mention, something was lost, it must have been something big, although I don’t have the date feeling, you know when you smell something and it reminds you of an era you passed at some point in your life?

Anyway (it seems) something that day was definitely lost, what was lost

?

What was Lost

Engulfed in the rays,

the end of the maze,

was near,

one name.....

and off to cloud nine.

One more vision blue,

and all would be seen,

no knots,

no more knots.....

then off to cloud nine.

A glow to surround,

in a field of hope and dreams so close

Maybe?

An explosion went ahead,

they found a thousand nerve endings dead.

All the peace we had grown,

in the garden, was blown and ripped apart.

The mist and the darkness,

like a pane of glass by the gutter

Maybe?

Shattered cuttings of pride,

all intelligence found was lost or tied.

A few more steps behind,

a wave to stop the force, the hurt.

A skull ripped in two,

Like a pane of glass by the gutter

Maybe?

What was what was lost,

a willingful morning gone,

everything was done, was undone.

Including all credibility...

What was what was lost.

*

Sun, 7 Dec 1997 07:18:25

*

Right you guys, am I missing something?

It’s just like playing in those complicated shadows.

Courtesy of Van and Elvis

And I shall drive my chariot

down your streets and cry

‘Hey, its me, I’m dynamite

and I don’t know why’

And you shall take me strongly

in your arms again

And I will not remember

that I even felt the pain

We shall walk and talk

in gardens all misty and wet with rain

And I will never, never, never

grow so old again.

Mon, 27 Apr 1998 16:58:03

*

Right guys, I’ve been having some thoughts (this isn't how I speak)

ok, erm...

lets start again

I'm a little nervous,

(Is it hot in here?)

I better go before I start going red,

I blush easy,

sorry about this,

I'm not used to it.

I can’t do it.

Sorry.

Sorry.

(I've wasted your time now, sorry).

Sat, 21 Nov 1998 16:37:11 –0000

*

Who wants to hear some good news?

get all kitted up

cherub cheeked

ironed shirt

there’s a party on the hill

smiling faces

someone crying

pretty balloons

multi-coloured

loads of small sausages (skinless)

toothpicks

and some horrible cake to bring home

Sun, 29 Nov 1998 19:24:13

*

You are the most beautiful widow in town/

True Story of the weekend

Right guys, I was watching telly the other night, (lots of words missing here) then woke up and did something similar. Soon I came to a conclusion, so I went out and bought a fluffy pink hat (not dissimilar to the rabbits in Alice in wonderland) I wore it like fascinated teenage film star. People passed comments in the street, none of them knew what I was thinking, they didn't know I had four quid in my pocket either... they thought it was a movie or something. Dan Hartree bought some three-fingered gloves from the same shop (didn't you Dan).

Yeah that was a great day, me, Dan the stars

And a little bottle of sunshine (in case dusk settled early) oh yeah, and a girl from the Woolpack, she lives on Haslingden Road or something, we all ended the day at Stickies, where Andy Ashworth has a new part time job. The highlight of the night was when everyone waited with bubbles of anticipation as Jon Tolley came out with his new togs on.

I’m on the ground

I’m upside down

You’re in the air

You’re in the air

and I am breathing

hope you enjoy the day ahead of you

Sun, 29 Nov 1998 19:42:40

*

The concrete broke your fall

I’m in love again

like last week when I fell in the oil pit and nearly drowned

I want to be next to her whenever I can be

just to see her smile would send waves of optimism through my body like a swimming pool of sunlight

I’ve moved house guys, right behind Mr Lindsay’s brother, I like it here, it feels almost as if I should have always lived here.

I’m sitting in my new computer room talking to you guys listening to

Music in a comforting woollen jumper (great fit) not too dangly over the arms my arms hurt a little off the edge of the desk

yeah the music has set (along with the jumper) a comforting atmosphere, ‘Up’ by REM is now playing.

Yeah right this house, it seems much bigger than I thought it has a nice little picturesque conservatory, which nobody uses.

Erm, overall its good and the move went ok.

Mon, 7 Dec 1998 23:21:47

*

There was a boy

ha

This is the list always at the back of my mind

go to Uni. (never gonna do it)

get a full time job (I’d feel too old)

get a better-paid job (dislike office work/love present job)

learn to drive (hate cars, don’t trust other drivers)

attempts to do these little things (not worth mentioning)

buy a new guitar (very much in need of/cant afford due to first few

points) travel the world (money/too scared)

write more songs (lack of moments when emotionally worthy/lack of

time/lack of support/instruments)

ask the person of my dreams (too self-conscious/scared)

gain sanity (don’t know where to buy it from)

grow young, buy a house MANSION and invite everyone I know/love to come a join and live as we want in peace and go and snowball houses and jump in mud and race spiders and jump from high buildings and throw things at people and drink and eat what I want and fly I would forfeit all of this for one thing

 

MAN THAT WAS A BIT DEPRESSING, thanks for letting me release it

I AM A LOT HAPPIER THAN THIS IN REAL LIFE AS YOU ALL WELL KNOW in fact please do not think I am unhappy at this present moment, in fact I am very happy sometimes I love life so much I want to hug it I love people so much. I guess everyone has these lists at the back of their minds (back me up guys).

It snowed here yesterday! Quite thick.

Mon, 7 Dec 1998 23:46:47

*

My Finest Defence

I hide from her until the day dies

sometimes while the night’s awake

I escape and follow her

to convince myself that I am trying

One day I will reach from the frozen waters

burst the tranquil balance

and blue skies will grasp my wanting arms

until I am pulled with grace beyond belief

If anybody asks me

This is my finest defence

Tue, 8 Dec 1998 00:00:05

*

Hey guys, here is a poem of recent it is a nice poem with some mighty-fine help and influence from Jonny Robertson. I hope you all smile from bumper to bumper afterwards!

The Tune at the Oracle

Sometimes if I stop

and listen

I can hear a thousand frightened fingers

on a thousand frightened keyboards

its a small war

yet the disharmony exists

And sometimes if I look away

re-focus

my vision points toward the one

the unexplainable one

the true

For if I stop

and listen more

sometimes

I hear our tune

emit the oracle

and see a thousand shining leaves

wipe away a thousand shining teardrops

19 May 1999 14:51

*

PartThree

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1999 John Paul Powell. Not to be used without permission.