Don't look back in anger
Keeping with the poetry theme, I'm posting up my favourite poem from my early youth. It was written by me for my GCSE English Coursework in Year 11. It got 11/40, I can't remember my SPAG mark:
I left the school and was confronted
By a man in a mack.
He beckoned me into the car
And locked me in the back.
He sped away quite quickly
To a small country retreat,
And locked me in the basement,
with another boy called Pete.
Pete was an odd-looking guy,
With no mouth and no eyes,
He commuicated in morse code,
By zipping up his flies.
Slowly it occured to me that Pete had never kissed.
But alas, instead of sympathising, I just took the piss.
I still don't know if this is a sonnet or not. Perhaps it was, cos Shakespeare was often forced up our arses by the English teacher.
From the same period of time, I wrote a poem that went:
Billy B had BSE,
He sat in rooms and dribbled.
He rarely used to come and play,
Which really was uncivil.
Of these I am very proud.
On a same-same but different note, someone wiped the entire contents of the hard drive on the computer back home without warning me. Gone forever are the massive amount of .bmp drawings from my summer spent with a broken arm (aged 14?), words, posters from my old band (including Des Lynam's face super-imposed on a hot bod, and an image of Hitler dressed as a clown, under the title 'Everyone loves to party'), downloaded images. In short, everything but porn. It's a lot of stuff that I'm sad that I'll never see again. If anyone has any computer-bits from their past they wish to donate to my now forgotten virtual childhood 'twould be much appreciated.
I left the school and was confronted
By a man in a mack.
He beckoned me into the car
And locked me in the back.
He sped away quite quickly
To a small country retreat,
And locked me in the basement,
with another boy called Pete.
Pete was an odd-looking guy,
With no mouth and no eyes,
He commuicated in morse code,
By zipping up his flies.
Slowly it occured to me that Pete had never kissed.
But alas, instead of sympathising, I just took the piss.
I still don't know if this is a sonnet or not. Perhaps it was, cos Shakespeare was often forced up our arses by the English teacher.
From the same period of time, I wrote a poem that went:
Billy B had BSE,
He sat in rooms and dribbled.
He rarely used to come and play,
Which really was uncivil.
Of these I am very proud.
On a same-same but different note, someone wiped the entire contents of the hard drive on the computer back home without warning me. Gone forever are the massive amount of .bmp drawings from my summer spent with a broken arm (aged 14?), words, posters from my old band (including Des Lynam's face super-imposed on a hot bod, and an image of Hitler dressed as a clown, under the title 'Everyone loves to party'), downloaded images. In short, everything but porn. It's a lot of stuff that I'm sad that I'll never see again. If anyone has any computer-bits from their past they wish to donate to my now forgotten virtual childhood 'twould be much appreciated.
posted by Steve Harmison | 5:41 AM
1 Comments:
I remember that poem, oh how we used to laugh at that one in the barracks. I considered replying to your last poems, requesting your child abduction poem so you can imagine my excitement at seeing the post this morning. I am sorry to hear that your hard drive has been wiped, the positive to take from this is that you can now re-invent your past in any way you like.
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