Furious Cycling And Other Unlikely Events Read online

Cycling

  and Other Unlikely Events

  Published by Dawn Print © 2008

  Copyright © Alex Frew2008

  Cover Picture Copyright © Andrew Fleming 2003-2008

  The author has asserted his right to be identified as the writer of these poems under the patents and copyright act 1988.

  These poems may not be reproduced without the permission of the author by any other means including photocopying, typing or scanning.

  Title

  Cycling

  The Cyclist

  The Worst Day of My Life

  Astra

  Psycho Cycler

  A summer Tale

  At Night

  Past and Present

  Bird Man

  I am a tourist

  Burgers

  By the River

  For Campbell

  Beast

  The Common

  Brake My Heart

  Cycling

  I love to go a-riding

  Riding on my bike.

  Cycling can be so much fun

  It takes you where you like.

  Up hills, down hills

  Straight along the street.

  Heart thumping, feet churning

  Something you can't beat.

  The Universal Cycle

  It's like an album name

  By Donovan, but I'll tell you

  Boy, cycling is my game.

  Up gears, down gears,

  Never mind the weather.

  Off the beaten track now

  Over moss and heather.

  Going round the roundabout

  In the wrong lane

  Lorries riding near my bum

  Low-loaders are a pain.

  I've learned a body language

  Car drivers don't like,

  I use it oh so frequently

  When riding on my bike.

  The middle finger's much

  employed

  And I enjoy the chase.

  As long as I go biking

  My life will feel in place!

  The Cyclist

  I’ve been cycling this road so long

  Ma legs are big and strong

  I know every crack and pothole

  In Shortlees.

  Where caution’s the name of the game

  All drivers are totally insane

  Braking hard is what you

  Always have to do.

  I’m a cycling cowboy

  Who fell off on his arse

  Skidding at a roundabout.

  I’m a cycling cowboy

  For some reason all the

  Van drivers and motorists shout

  When I’m out in the pouring rain.

  They think I must be insane.

  I’m cycling all round this town

  With the rain always teeming down

  Mud splashing up my legs

  And on to my backside.

  Pedestrians they see me ride

  They all run and hide

  No wonder, when my brakes

  Are totally gone now.

  I’m a cycling cowboy

  Who fell off on his arse

  Skidding at a roundabout.

  I’m a cycling cowboy

  For some reason all the

  Van drivers and motorists shout

  When I’m out in the pouring rain.

  The Worst Day of My Life

  I was on my bicycle

  Heading out to Troon

  This was a big mistake,

  I found out far too soon.

  I was on the back road,

  Leading to Gatehead

  When there was an incident

  That nearly left me dead.

  Those cars are unpredictable

  Those drivers they are shite

  I think I’ve had the worst day of my life.

  Inside my head just

  Like a movie it unreels

  I left some skid marks and

  I don’t mean with my wheels.

  My shins were black and blue,

  I left some skin as I bounced across the road,

  I’m glad that I’m not thin.

  Those cars are unpredictable

  Those drivers they are shite

  I think I’ve had the worst day of my life.

  Astra

  Men sitting round a table

  Talking about stars

  Black holes and galaxies

  Wormholes and quasars

  Quantum physics, feng shui

  Gravity wells, Waverider

  The speed of light, Einstein.

  And all the time we sip

  Bitter coffee flavoured with

  The milk Duncan brought

  Talking as we ought.

  And outside people pass

  Girls with girls men with

  Women, women in Sari's

  And inside, while talking

  Of other worlds beyond

  Andy Nimmo

  Keeps an anxious eye on

  His bike in case someone

  Nicks it.

  Psycho Cycler

  Mama was a psycho cycler

  Papa was too

  Papa was a cyclist

  At the age of 82.

  If you are a missy

  You should know

  It’s great

  To sit upon a saddle

  It’s never too late.

  If you are a boyo

  Then a bike can

  Make you hard.

  Psycho cycling

  Stops you turning

  Into a ball of lard.

  So do the thing

  That you should do.

  Get a bike and

  It’ll see you

  Through.

  The wind and rain

  And snow until you

  Get up to

  The highest hill.

  And you’ll never need

  To take

  Too much of any pill.

  A Summer Tale

  We walked in the sunshine

  Laughed and found

  An excuse to brush our hands

  Together.

  Talking about nothing much

  Yet sharing the depth

  Of the moment as people

  Do when they're in love.

  Now we walk beneath clouds

  There is little laughter

  A dark shadow hangs

  Between us.

  Cold as a corpse.

  I tried to give you the

  World but you rejected me

  This is not enough

  It never is.

  At Night

  When the day vanishes and

  The night creeps in

  I try to silence the thoughts

  In my mind

  If hearing voices means you

  Then I am for the echoes of

  The words said

  Through the day reverberate in

  The dry

  And hollow chambers of my

  Brain

  Only then can I catch the

  Errant thoughts

  Pack them up and enter into that

  Little death

  A pocket of silence we all

  Need

  To blank out the terrible hurts

  Of the world

  Past and Present

  What is this life so full of care

  If you don't have time to stand and stare?

  I don't know the poet who wrote this rhyme

  But they had a sense of place and time.

  Never mind our Mr Harry Lauder

  With his words about Scottish Sodger

  Hi
s long Kilt and crooked walking stick

  That view of Scotland makes me sick.

  Scotland is a place of places

  People walking with their faces

  Turned away from what they see

  All the time - familiarity.

  But I am a tourist

  I am naive

  Passing through these places

  And I believe

  In looking up, craning my neck

  Bone's a-creaking, just a speck

  Of humanity.

  Taking it all in.

  I can see a world of people

  Who lived in these spaces

  None now alive but I feel traces

  Of them as I look around while

  In these buildings abound

  Computers and copiers and

  Bored office workers.

  Where once children with muddy shoes

  Clattered up stairs,

  Where men drank booze

  And wives had no time to be dreamy

  As they spent their time feeding

  The weans,

  Or slaving away at the steamie.

  Their lives may seem narrow somehow,

  No tv, computers, no internet

  Struggling to survive on the pittance

  You'd get from a sixpence admittance

  As a fleapit usher.

  While your man searched for work.

  So I walk around and soon it seems

  Sepia prints that people my dreams

  Come alive and the past is living

  Here and now - but we all exist

  There anyhow.

  Bird Man

  Man wasn't made

  To fly like a bird

  That's very plain

  To see.

  But do you know

  If he flew

  Like a bird

  That he

  Would chitter,

  Flitter and fly all day

  And dance on the

  Glancing sunbeams.

  He'd float far up

  In the sky

  Like a bird

  Then he's spread out his wings

  In the sun

  Oh yes!

  What glorious fun.

  I am a Tourist

  I am a tourist in my own life

  Got rid of the baggage

  That caused my strife.

  I am a camera flickering through pictures

  Amazed at some of the mixtures

  Of good and bad, sublime, banal,

  I see: I’m the owner of them all.

  I am a tourist looking at the sky

  Some are bemused and ask me why.

  But there’s so much to see up there

  If you have time when out anywhere.

  ‘And what is this life so full of care

  If you don’t have time to stand and stare?’

  I am a tourist in this moment of time,

  Looking at my life as a kind of rhyme, with

  A beginning, a middle, an end

  This is the only message I send.

  I am a tourist, amazed at the way

  We give over our lives every day

  To the faceless corporations

  Those world amalgamations

  Who set a price on dreams.

  Try to think of what to do

  So they cannot capture you.

  But we’re living in a bubble

  Leading in the end to trouble

  Life is never as simple as it seems.

  I am a tourist.

  Looking at these places

  You’ll never get to see the faces

  Of those who lived here for so

  Long

  Those forebears whose lives

  Were good and strong and led to us,

  Except in a sepia print of the past

  Bringing life to the shadows

  Where we can see at last

  Another world so close to ours

  Yet different in so many ways

  Separated from us by thousands

  Of days.

  Where children played now

  Office spaces and stairs that

  Hang outside. Gold in the sky

  And hidden beauty.

  Burgers

  Burgers burgers burgers

  That’s all they seem to do

  Burgers burgers burgers

  Chew chew chew

  They comes into a car park

  They finds themselves a bay

  And then they eats themselves

  To death

  Every single day.

  Burgers burgers burgers

  Sitting on yer seat

  Burgers burgers burgers

  Eat eat eat

  Reconstituted beef

  That is what they use

  It’s ears and eyes and

  Arseholes

  And it’s going into you.

  Burgers burgers burgers

  Baps baps baps

  No wonder you’re so

  Constipated

  Goin’ for your craps.

  Two cows is standin’

  In a field

  When one says to the other

  “Don’t that bloody BSE

  Bother you, my mother?”

  The other cow just

  Gives a grin

  Speaks in a voice so sweet:

  “Don’t bother me ‘cause I’m

  A birdie, how you doin’?

  Tweet.”

  Burgers burgers burgers

  Yes they will rot yer brain

  So if you want to buy ‘em

  Then you must be insane.

  For if you eat them burgers

  Your life will be a pain

  And all the sense that you

  Once had

  Will go right down the drain.

  By the River

  I was walking by the river

  Looking at the tide

  When I saw my father standing

  Across the other side

  I crossed the bridge of sorrows

  Through the vale of tears

  I stood there before him

  Bathing in all my fears.

  There was a frown between his eyes

  breeze blowing in his hair

  behind us both the landscape

  was sterile bleak and bare.

  My father wouldn’t smile

  I thought that I would die

  I did not know what to say

  He made me want to cry.

  He raised his hands before me

  His voice was deep and strong

  I’d been there for a thousand years

  Though the time was not long

  I have a black house standing

  With an inside high and wide

  Why don’t you come there with me

  And see what is inside?

  Then the sweat came to my brow

  Tears came to my eyes

  As I watched him fade awy

  Without a last ‘goodbye.’

  I woke upon the riverbank

  My body soaked with dew

  The morning sun was up above

  My life began anew.

  Please forgive me father,

  I’ll see you soon enough

  Forget the world we’ve known

  And all that vapid stuff.

  For Campbell

  You had no idea what

  You meant to me.

  In this world you were good

  Amongst the bad

  No-one was spiteful or mean

  About you

  You were always happy,

  Never sad.

  For thirty years you

  Stood in that place

  Dispensing your medicines

  With style and good grace

  Even more, your readiness

  To talk, to see the

  Other viewpoint

  Made you so precious to me.

  You were a beacon of light


  In a world so misbegotten

  Campbell you are in my

  Thoughts

  You will never be forgotten.

  Beast

  I am a cat.

  Not a furry little fluffy bundle

  Of fun, with perfect purrs.

  I am a cat

  Not the buzzing creature who

  Weaves between your legs

  begging to be fed.

  I am a cat.

  A creature of the night

  Sleeping through the useless day.

  I am a cat.

  Darkness personified, stalking through

  A landscape visible only to my eyes.

  I am a cat.

  Sleek killer born and bred

  Lying in wait for hours on end

  for my prey.

  I am a cat.

  Pouncing, biting, gouging, killing

  A machine bred in nature raw.

  The Common

  Thirty-three years he walked

  That land and more

  Then the signs went up

  Forbidden! Keep Out!

  Or there'll be trouble in store.

  Men with clubs and uniforms

  Now patrol the grounds

  Calling the police arresting

  Kids and other intruders each day.

  Fence posts are up blocking

  Off the verdant, common fields

  With more signs to show

  The new owner never yields.

  The man is now a tresspasser

  Where he walked on summer days

  With his dog and watched as

  The glorious sun set the horizon ablaze.

  The dog running before him,

  Lolling tongue lathered and pink

  This was part of their world

  Never to end you would think.

  Wintertime made this ground

  Hard, frozen unyileding and then

  Starkness of black trunks against white

  Snow made him wander again.

  Will he he be forbidden forever?

  His heart cannot understand.

  Thirty-three years cannot be dismissed

  By a simple transfer of land.

  Brake My Heart

  We went out on our bikes

  And I became ardent

  Wanting to be with you

  In more ways than one.

  Maybe you were a little

  Saddle-sore

  Or the woods didn't appeal

  To you

  But you wouldn't let me

  Have my wicked way.

  Later you made up for

  Your outdoor reluctance

  On my single bed and

  Comfy duvet.

  Then you left me for

  Someone I thought was

  A friend who had a

  Bigger bike than mine.

  And that is why I always

  Think of you as the

  One who succeeded in

  Braking my heart.