Showing posts with label lps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lps. Show all posts

Friday, 8 September 2023

WITH THE AUTHORITY OF AN INDUSTRY ANALYST




hmv sells nostalgia now
lps there i ignored 
the first time around

old metalheads
list records in surprise
bruce dickinson ! the kinks !

~

i hear a man
loud & off somehow
tell his ladyfriend
quiet but off somehow
about how he owned a record player

just like this one

& when he says

im glad vinyl is making a comeback

with the authority
of an industry analyst
she answers

who is vinyl ?

~

i take a punt
on a jazz percussionist
with a reduced sticker

its a name i can almost place

& leave
thru the merch blockade
of
tshirts & totes & tat








Thursday, 9 March 2023

RITICULATED NOSTALGIA



DAWN FLASHBACKS

dawn
was hot boiled eggs
was an ersatz citrus shower*

dawn
was all the flashbacks
the above entail

& they would crowd me
like inside a kaleidoscope
on my way to work
hangover in my backpack
wheels in the wet
memories on tap

on tap ? dam burst !

~

*SHOWER PRODUCT FLASHBACK

the school organised
work experience
bus journey
to
the
dead dead office**
of drawing boards
& resentment
& nose hair
& silence the radio could not cut
& that ammonia copier
in the windowless room
downstairs away from them

(& lunch in the murky mall
 bench outside Our Price
 everyone buying
 Superdrug hair gels
 & Pet Shop Boys lps
 & shrieking at fashion)

~

**DEAD OFFICE FLASHBACK

sat on the carpet
after spam & beans

& kids lunchtime TV
shows Playschool

going thru the round window
or thru the square window
to
show
me
the factories & the working farms
&
the
grey grey grey
of it all
when i was four









Saturday, 29 March 2014

KING CHURN



used to sit at the tiled desk
ignoring my cold feet
with
a
bottle
and
another bottle
and
dirty
small glasses with thick glass bases
i'd
stare at the table lamp thru
and
churn
out
tiny pops of derision and street litter observation

the piles of old 45s would grow
and
collect
ash
in their charity scratched grooves

now i sit at the same desk with coffee or weird bitter teas
with
chet baker long players 
tickling and painting the slower nights prettier
and
churn out smaller pops
of
toilet trips
and
gentler things

but
still churning
which
is
the
main
thing



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