Big Tom, little Tom

If my friends were here, what would they say?
How would they react to how I’ve spent my day?
Big Tom would say that I’ve become quiet productive
That I’ve done well not to be tele-visually corrupted
You should turn your book into a feature
And tell how writing is a fearsome creature
But with commitment and persistence
Your raise your profile and your confidence
You can do anything if you put your mind to it
Just make sure you get out and do it
Make sure you have plans and goals set
Don’t look back and have any regrets
So I’ll take the words that Tommy said
Even though they were in my head
Then I’ll move on to little Tom
Who’ll tell me with some aplomb
To go out and speak to writers alike
And try my poetry on an open mic
To just do it and not be afraid
To go and throw my poem grenade
You can never say that the others are bad
At least they’ve taken the chances they’ve had
If you want your writing to become universal
Then you’ll have to get out and stop being anti-social
So you can declare yourself the people’s poet
If you don’t tell the people then the people won’t know it.

Miniature Village

Sometimes I wish I could be

In my miniature village under a miniature tree

With no one there to disrupt my peace

It’s there, my worries I can release

All my cares and troubles will disappear

Under my tree thoughts are pure and clear

It’s in my miniature village that’ll you’ll find

People of open heart and mind

Not a place for swift anxiety

But home to the drift society

Only available to the freethinkers

Freedom searchers and life drinkers

In my miniature village problems are tiny

Colours are bold and smiles are shiny

People are how you’d like them to be

Calming the waves of the widest sea

Let my music fill your mind

Allow yourself to gently unwind

There’s no warmer sun or brighter skies

Than the feeling you get when you close your eyes

Everybody’s equal that you can guarantee

In my miniature village under a miniature tree

It’s easy to find a village of your own

To king upon your comfort throne

Just close your eyes and there you’ll be

In your miniature village under a miniature tree

Festival Blues

I can’t go so please don’t tell me
Who you’ll be watching or in which tent you’ll be
Don’t tell me you’ve seen the greatest band
Found the best bar and worst foods stand
I don’t want to know about your camping tales
Or how you’ve sampled all the local ales
Don’t mention that you’ve lost your wallet
Or how bad the smell is from the toilet
I don’t want to know how late you are up
Or how you are drinking from the festival cup
Who cares if you’re wandering around the place?
Meeting people off of head and out of face
I don’t care about a secret intimate gig
Or your crazy costume with matching wig
I don’t care if the camping fields are pleasant
Or if the moon at night is a semi crescent
I have no desire of collaboration knowledge
Or your drunken late night tental forage
Don’t mention all the bands you’ve seen
Or that you’ve just bumped into a vaccine
That this year’s line up is the best of all
Because I can’t get to this year’s festival
In your weekend glory, I’m unable to rejoice
I want to stand in a crowd and lose my voice
Please don’t tell me cos I don’t want to know
Enjoy my festival for me cos I can’t go