Some misc poems

With a little update

Paul Cree

Apr 22, 2022

Greetings what’s going on? Where we all at? Where am I at? Where’s this all going?

Had an unintended break from Lager Time last week (though there was actual Lager Time, as I was on a stag-doo on one of the days) a combination of a residential trip, in Brighton during the week; with a project that I work on with Dream Arts. Then, having to go back to London for the Easter weekend, meant there was no time for doing this. And as much as I’d like to convince both my wife, and myself; it’s not a priority but maybe one day? Hit the subscribe if your down for the cause (it’s just occurred to me, that since I started actively asking people to subscribe, like above, which is what all the smiley-how-to-do blogs tell me how-to-do, I’ve had barely any subscribers? Alas. Keep socking it to the man, that’s what I say)

So I’ve been sharing extracts from Make Your Own Bed and Hope for the Best, but as I said last time, that I might give it a rest for bit. I’ve been actively trying to follow through on things that I say I might do, so I’m doing it, or not doing it, more to the point. In my limited skill set, mystic would never be on that small list but clearly, I was able to predict my own future, without even realising it. For all the above reasons, as well as the taking a break reason, I won’t be sharing anything from the show, this week. The main reason being, I’ve hit a problem with it, again.

I’ve now re-written or edited two thirds of the show, which I’ve split into three-acts. Thinking I’d gone slim and trim with the words, I ran it all together yesterday and I’m already at an hour; with a whole third section to fit in. And music. And I’m now thinking, yet again, is this a load of shit? l’ll keep ploughing through it, re-editing till I get to the end and then maybe it’s about finally doing the funding app and getting some sort of script editor, or dramaturg, to come in an help me panel-beat it into shape. Failing not getting any dough, which is fairly likely, I’ll have another re-think. Thing is, I get precious about some of those non-needed lines and background information. I can already hear some of those dreaded criticisms: is this really needed, Paul??? Yes. It is. Is this moving the story foreword, Paul? I like veering off. Life does that, all the time.

This week I’d thought I’d share a few poems I’ve got kicking about; been slowly putting together a file of new bits and bobs, over the last couple of years. Maybe there’s another book in it? Don’t know yet, I’m just enjoying write them.

There’s quite a few expletives in these ones, I don’t tend to swear too much in my writing so I don’t know what’s happened here but they were more or less picked at random. Also, the tone on most of them is a bit pessimistic, which isn’t always the case with me but to be honest, I’m not feeling all that great at the moment, so it’s fitting. Don’t know if it’s season change, being skint, bit knackered maybe? Or all of them but I’ve felt better.

Anyway, onwards and upwards, hopefully. Same time next week?

Workshop

This pen ain’t no sword
or weapon
or any of that bollox
if anything, it’s
a minute taker in a
meeting, bored out of her
fucking mind, imagining
decking the dick-head with
the white teeth talking
over the power point.
doodling on the paper,
inserting silly words into
the notes, just for her
own amusement, a
subtle survival technique,
aware a combined force of morons
have her surrounded on
all sides and although she lacks
the resources to fight them, she
takes solace in the fact that her wage-superiors,
sat around her, all feigning
interest In the
Power-Point prick, have to
lie about it just to get by.
Fuck that, she thinks.