Posts tagged ‘Blackburn’

20/05/2013

Where “L.A. Woman” Played

 

The black-walled flat – as damp as dark –

Where smoke and carpet merged and flowed,

And promise drained, and talent flayed

Its beauty with a knife of song.

 

And through the liquid of my eyes

I sensed the air begin its ebb,

It sucked another day to death:

A Hammond swirled, a poet curled.

 

The concrete stairwell, soaked in gold,

Was echoing a dusk or dawn,

As rain began corralling drains,

And woke that sleeper from its pains.

 

Out there a dog lay writhed in bones:

In dereliction, howled alone.

 

 

Remembering hearing LA Woman by The Doors in a squat in Blackburn, Lancashire, 1987.

24/03/2013

Second Hand Clothes

 

Across the car park cobbles shone,

Inverted haloes, drizzle formed,

Before I crossed the road I’d smell

The resin smoke and naptha rags.

 

Cravats and faded patterned shirts,

Cut off from history, cast adrift:

The gladioli, hearing aids,

The ancient fabrics, damp and cold.

 

Above a tape of Mark E. Smith,

Of Morrissey, The Doors and Cud,

The doorbell rang, the clothes rails scratched,

The northern rain kept up its beat.

 

It could have been a thousand years:

How many hands, how many tears?

 

 

(Blackburn, 1987)

 

11/12/2012

Song 2: Road to Nowhere

 

I drank another strawberry wine,

And danced for hours with flailing arms.

The streets were made for running wild,

And lost or free, it all made sense.

 

The flames from which the house was built

Had licked and teased my teenage mind,

And burned me through with blistered towns:

The wreck I left, the wreck I was.

 

And in another club or pub

I drank another strawberry wine,

And fell in love, and fell apart,

And planned another shining start.

 

I didn’t know the words for life:

I took a guess and sang too loud.

 

Blackburn, Lancashire where I heard Road to Nowhere by Talking Heads