TO SIR NICK
Lord of all Barlick, MBE, MBO, BO,
Bachelor of the Farts, Super Chick-in
Puck-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Nick, ‘diddliddling,’ my bestest friend,
Do you remember our eighteenth summer,
It felt that the good times would never end
& Barry Island the only bummer.
That Ynnysddu flat, weed, laughs & wimmin,’
‘Blowin’ a reefer on Salisbury plain,’
Seven chicks in Newquay, soapbar, swimmin’
Our first Glasto – you gotta go again.
Saw… Bjork’s Debut, Newport’s Supersonics,
Peer Gynt down Stratford, Burnley rule Wembley,
Massive crowd in Brixton for the Manics
& that mad, May night near Monmouth, where we
Sat with the Roses and their album new,
“Don’t think it’s as good as the first,” said you.
AMSTERDAMINNIT
We trawl the long-haul of the motorway
& pick up more pot-heads past Birmingham,
Jelly wobbles on the waves to Calais,
Mojo pukes in the lowlands near the ‘Dam.
We rush to relax in the smoky cafes;
Try Purple Haze & buy Sensemelia,
Each stella & space-cake skanks up the daze
Of a mushroom gilded psychedelia.
We tram through ‘Dam to the sleezy district,
Pluck up Dutch courage for ‘Sucky Fucky,’
Crack-ed whores slink at doors, wink’d to be pick’d-
It’s a shame when you pay to get lucky…
Skunk’d-up, smasha fuck, zombie bus, bongtubes,
Grass stash’d up Nicky’s ass, Richie’s itchy pubes.
THE DRIVE
Nick’s bleepin horns blare,
v “Show time, time t’go,”
In the front seat, skinnin’ up, sits Mojo,
In jumps up mi oldest buddy, D.J. Funk;
Pills, powder, cigs, cans, king-size, gum & skunk.
As the levelin’ joint passes around
We sample the Charlies new album’s sound-
How mellow is the music & how high?
Stars cluster the sky, headlights streakin by,
Windows wound down down the M 65,
Feelin’ Fresh Prince Funky & alive.
As we motor through Skankymancwankland,
Home to many a cocky, northern band,
Over gloomy Salford’s rain-soaked ridge crest
Manchester looms man I’m not impressed.
COOL AS FUCK OFF MAN U
We park at the Arndale,
“Owdo lasses!”
Graffitiscape daubing Manchester,
Shmoasis blare from the young fool busker.
Floozies ooze by,
“Hey cuties, nice asses!”
Down the Oz Bar we bomb paste base Billy
To sharpen the edge of these smacky E’s.
Mojo buys a Big Mac Meal at Mac ‘D’s,
Spins round the Big-Wheel of Piccadilly
& chucks up in the bogs of the Dry Bar.
Live drum & bass brings us up off our face,
Superfly Shiny Riders funk the place –
A Lancashire lad’s simply superstar.
The room goes bright, a boom of mellow dub
It’s time to take the boys out to a club.
CLUBBBINIT
“Reyt, where next ?”
“West Bams on at the Orbit…”
“…Nah man, too late…”
“…The Hac’…”
“…Nah, the beers shit…”
“…Sankeys…”“…Nah man, it’s closed down…”
“…Wigan Pier…”
“…Nah, everyone in Wigan is a queer…”
“…Lets hit Blackpool, find a shit B & B,
& pick up fit chicks from some Hen Party…”
“…Nah, bin there, worn the crap hat, c’mon team,
Let’s unleash these libidos down at Cream!”
Razzin’ the freeway, babblin ‘bout the Dam,
With Techno Bangin
BAM-BAM-BAAM-BAAM-BLAM
“Mint mix, Funkster,” “Yeah, Angels ninety-six!”
”…Ee-yar Damo” “…Ta Mojo, Oos next”…Nicks!”
We park by Sefton Park,
“Owdo lasses!”
Beauties cruise by,
“Hey cuties, nice asses!”
FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS
Often I, an addicted Eastender,
Love to observe mankind’s menagerie,
Especially the ‘Work-for-Weekender’
Found in town zoos or city safari.
At watering holes or in dog-eared flats;
Snakes, Dinos, Vultures, Rats, Cows, Moles & Sheep,
Packs of Fox-Hounds & scatty Pussycats,
Are crammed at Sardine bars, seven ranks deep.
Two-by-two the babbling rabble migrate
Through Gorilla doors, get tanked up on hooch,
Drink rats-piss like Fish, ass-wiggle like Bait,
The rasion d’etre the ten-to-two smooch.
Then they sing, kiss, spit, piss, shit, fight & feed,
Before scurrying back to his or hers to breed.
MANUELA
I mingle with a galaxy of stars,
Down double absinthes at the cocktail bars,
Strut a sleek swathe through a heaving dance-floor,
Share what this great feel for rhythm is for.
My god!!
I feel her!!
My lime light falls,
On a long-legged, raven-haired beauty
Elitely to me, she squeezes my balls,
The primal sign of promiscuity.
I had to admire her fiery swagger,
This subtle way she asked me to shag her,
Ravishing eyes, nice ass & lavish scent,
Her lips, softened by the Latin accent,
Gently nibblin the lobes of mine ear,
Whisp’rin,
“Signore, I waant you, rrright here…“
THE RIDE
Manuela drags me out into the street
Outside the club, a long white limo lay
Some pussy-cat engine purring on heat,
A whirr of wheels & we are on our way
Outside the club, a long white limo lay
A pussy-cat engine purrin on heat,
A whirrin of wheels, we roar on our way,
Floorin some dibble down dead in the street.
Heading towards the first glimpse of the sun,
A sense of early morning in the air,
She unzips my fly, slipping her lips on
This pleasure, I comb fingers through her hair.
Smokin’ a cig I think of this England,
Country of civilised barbarians
Imprisoned upon one tiny island.
No wonder I like the Italians;
Easy-going temper, cultured gusto,
Musical language & great felatio.
A SURE THING
Gravel crunches up the hotel driveway,
Dark shaded chauffeur parks the limosine.
“What ya doing in England by the way?”
“Why, bebby darleeng, I’m now a Porn Queen!”
Night Porter winks as he hands me the key
“Enjoy your stay, sir!”
Of beer his breath stinks.
We enter the suite, she flicks on Verdi,
Lights incense sticks, candles, mixes the drinks,
Straightens cushions upon a king-sized bed.
“Ey get a leettle charlie, y’wan some?”
“Too reyt!”
She flings me a bag o’ Bronson,
A gold card & fifty – I snort a line.
“I must change deese clows,”
she sultrily said
As the coke kicked in, this Universe mine…
FOREPLAY
The bright night-lights of the metropolis
Sprawl away for many a built up mile…
…I hear a voice like a swanling’s hungry hiss,
I turn, my lucky lady stands in style,
Scantily attired, scarlet negligee –
Her flashing lashes urge my manhood move.
She strips to my thumb-clicks…
“Ecchelente!”
“We clean our bodies before making love!”
After the long tenderotic shower
We lie on a rug by a blazing fire,
My tongue caresses her lonely desire.
Glory-groaning O comes after an hour,
She lies on satin sheets, legs wide apart,
Lips sopping,
I’m in,
<flurp>
a fanny fart.
POET Vs PORN QUEEN
We embark in slow sensuality,
I hold her firm in my rythmic embrace,
The mystical look of sweet exstasi
Spread musically over her darling face.
Tempo increases, now we are fucking,
Each thrust fulfilling her lust’s willing need
Biting & rubbing & squeezing & sucking
Her raking nails making my broad back bleed.
We jockey for position, she’s on top
Of this proud sceptre, buttocks aboundin’,
A climactic shudder, the wild wails stop
Of a queen impaled on her king within.
I drown in her fragrance, kneading her hips,
She touches her bosom, sucking her lips.
PILLOW TALK
She begs me for more, her eyes burning wild,
“Let’s go again again, babe?”
“Not tonight my child,
Great lovers make love all night with such verve,
Poets love beauty but once to preserve.”
Now that the wildfires of passion are gone
We lie, two pulwars tether’d into one…
I pledge myself ‘Cavalier Servente,’
Whisp’ring the Vita Nuova of Dante
Fingertips stroking lips, nipples & thighs
“So beautiful…”
She sighs, closing her eyes,
Capturing moments forever to keep
Wandering into dream regions of sleep
Growing a glowing halo, I propose,
“Love, let us be as peaceful as a Rose!”
EXSTASI SPECS
Nick found bricks were supporting his car,
Rikki Dee fuck’d off with a Hollyoakes star,
Mojo met a limpet from Lancaster
& joined their coach… ‘Mate! can you drive faster!’
Cruising a most deserted M6
Oakenfold spinning the Essential Mix
Turns out his bird was a Classics student
& says she’d got him a little present
But he’d have to unwrap it at her pad…
After the best shag Mojo’d ever ‘ad
Mellow mist blankets castle & campus,
Drugs wearin’ off.. the lass wasn’t gorgeous
Good ol’ Mitsubishi fat-ass syndrome!
“Sorry love – ehm, I’d best get off home!”
MORNING CUDDLES
Tis best to begin day wrapped in the arms
Of a naked angel, her drowsy sleep,
Dreams darling skies, sweet children of thy charms.
Thru draperies Morn’s airy beamlets peep,
Half lights of Avalon whose dreamy glow
Lights a vestal vision of duvet bliss,
I stroke olive skin, soft as spring time snow,
Upon her forehead plant a tender kiss.
“Benissimo…” She sighs, closes her eyes.
We lie, two lovers, welded into one,
Whispering thro light Dantean sonnets
Fingertips stroking lips, nipples & thighs
& now the wildfire of passion is gone
We lie there dreaming of stars & comets.