Liverpool

The Mighty

a Liverpool poem

the randy dandy scallywag
atop cathedral steps
with prayers of lust and freedom
a self styled hero to none
pre-raphaelite sensibility
dressed in post punk finery
he falls in love
and out of heartbreak
while singing the blues
in broken latin
a hero from a Fellini film
never made but rehearsed
a million times
in coffee shop dreams
across the decades.

frail and mighty
just like you, just like me
but most of all
like nobody.

Hunt’s Cross Blues

I never stop at Hunt’s Cross
no matter what the train
everytime it flashes by
and we always never twain
I don’t know what’s at Hunt’s Cross
perhaps there’s not a lot
but I’d like to stop at Hunt’s Cross
to see what Hunt’s Cross has got.
Next time I’ll take a taxi
no matter what the fare
and hope the cabbie doesn’t say
“Hunt’s Cross? ….
….why d’ya wanna go there?”

Mercyside Saga Part One

across the River Mercy
we sailed our ship of fools
all the way from Jerkinbed
to the port of Liddypool
on the foam we joked anew
and old songs sung we high
to people in the tea room
who watched the wheels go by
then fell the sun as Fairclough ran
red as shepherds pie
as we landed by the king
up on his horse so high
across a bridge and down the steps
to fountains full of air
that rhymed of evenings yet to come
when I saw her standing there

I dreamed we was in Liddypool (extended 12 inch demo remixed version)

I dreamed I was in Liddypool
with the lions of Georgie’s Hall
I rode them all like butterflies
and they didn’t mind at all.

We rode up to the wigwam
but Paddy wasn’t home
so we left a message with mum
for him to text us on me phone.

Driving down up Lord Street
met Vicky on her pouffe
we tried so hard to amuse her
but she thought us quite uncouth.