Monthly Archive: January 2015

On a tallow candle found in the loft


This tallow tale candle wax black
Burnt when musty past folk
Then as fresh as orchard plums in pinafore white pockets of girls outside no. 4
Drew water at the pump just yards from Brian’s extension, his Nissan and his barbecue.

It looks like a turd!
Slipped by a passing pup on its way to sup at the pump trough
Scramble at the legs of the grubby boys leap up and crush the girls plums
Run scared to mum to wash the whites in biological stain remover

Not plum red but shit brown black
A still sepia time struck as shutters
One click and you’re dead
These girls and boys have melted
Let’s light the candle and be done with it and them, before we get sad.


Pat and mic (songs)

V = Vent/Mike/mic (Vent is the stage voice of the ventriloquist, Mike is the real voice of the ventriloquist and mic is the mediatised voice of the ventriloquist) all three or just one may be used.
P = Pat (The voice of the puppet intended to be male/female/hybrid, one or any of these)
B = Both or either

Free to repeat anything in the text as required or to change voice from that specified
Entering though the audience
(An opener in which Pat asserts herself)


V Pat my pet.
P Pat.
V Pat.
B Stroke him/her like a stray dog.
B With respect, keep your hands to yourself.
V Ho no pet for petting
P Pat in part as in postman, ho no.
P Pat as in Particle Accelera Tor
V Pat my pet.
P Pat.
V Pat.
B Not to be underestimated.

(A bawdy song about being made of water/dust)


V Lie my PAT and I do
B For you
P It’s true you know
P Under these bloomers it’s all wood
B, V, P
Hard wood – ha ho ho
Stiff and thick – ho ha ho
Like him/her – ho ho ha

V Atomic parcels wrapped up tight
V Keeps the wood/water in right

P He’s dripping now, dropping dust/drips
P Brush/wash it away fast/quick

V P Case they see it and are disappointed.

(Pat and Mike both want to fight aliens and fly like heroes)


P My chest is too tin for tits
P My crick neck fix needs plyers
P My feet are pegged on sticks
P unlike the gravity flyers
P In the film the matrix.

P A soap sud special bubble
P Me and him/her in trouble
P Up against the worst bits
P Of those alien trouble
P Dr Who and the Daleks

A love song for Pat, Vent, Mike and mic


V Me, my mic and Pat
B Croon away swoon away hey
V Moon by magic and that
B Croon away gone away stay
P Why my my Mikey cry my Mikey my my
B Croon away tune away play
P Swoon song sing say our sing song
B Croon away song away pray
B That day my Mikey my Pat met may …

A song of existential outrage


B Seeing as we’re here and now
B Seeing as we’re here and now
B Past fancies fly by by
B Past fancies fly by by
B So by by fly past fancies faster than that and this

V So fly by fly past fancies faster than that and this and nowt
V Bit by bit by that
V Bit by –‐ nowt to see here and now Mr.
V Move along flipping fast
V Flipper fast, bullettrain fast, rayfish fast
V Till a dam big bang bang bang
V Dam big.
V Dam big.
P Bang

A stumbling rallying cry to other Vents and their friends. Audience to join in with chorus.

Voice assignment as the performer fancies


To high fi and beyond the fidelity
We raise and throw our gobs
Ha la blah la ti do
tight lips

Lift your voice and trust to mimicry
Lob back and we will two
Ha la blah la ti do
tight lips

Look at his/her eyes and say Billericay
To stuff and nowt we cheer
Ha la blah la ti do
tight lips

Spin our heads and make like the omen,

All throaty, sicky, gaggy
Ha la blah la ti do
tight lips
tight lips
tongue tied
tongue tied



V As we say
P As we say
V Pat my pet
P My Mike
V Brush away
P Rush away
B By…


Vent and Pat indulge in some water pistol sports


V My funny valentine
V Eglantine I should say
V Your flower filled fancy face is no posy
V Composty and mossy I can do nowt but water it
V With my can

P My fantasam waking dream
P Butterbean I should say
P Your. M,m, M (tight lipped)
P M bloated with
P got ya!

Four fast poems

The vent commutes

This was a wet black mac day that good
Carriage came slam to my feet that day.
Wall to wall back flat we sat across
On my lap my friend wrapped
her limp legs and looked back at …
Eyes on the other hand, my mouth and hers in sync
Everyone else was buried three deep listening
Bat to bat we rattle chat rattle chat
Lips clatter and her head turns back to back to back
And they laugh like we’re an act.


We and he shingle still shore on a
River wet dry hot Suffolk weeks end day
Trod foot by foot to slow time past
The row-boats he rowed last when
Photo rich with plum plump aunts tarts
To a pub with a vicars son to set straight
How the now past and the now not past
Would press fast the old mans
Last pint ever with a prayer.

My first Denise

With her button cardy soft tummy
She pressed to me to the netball wall
Four foot of warm milk muscle and allsorts
I was her boyfriend for playtime.
Not Mark who could draw Vikings
Or Keith who could kick a long way
Or the other Toms and Dicks who
Could jump and play cards.
Denise loved me and my crying
and my frightened and my can’t eat dinner
And my running away fast and my stories
And my mittens and most of all my me
And my engines.

I hit Brian

Brian was so titch I had to had to hit him
Hard and teach him not to be titch but
Hard like me and he hurt and hurt and
I hurt and hurt and he cried a bit
and I was his best friend then but now
I hurt to have hit Brian like a bad bird.

(Experiment in form 1) A mawkish sonnet

Our garden is a jetty for my ship
That sits asleep on dream and lawn and teas
On seeds and bees on post and pens that lift
The ship a skim of daisy silk the sea.
I lie inside my sky through lidded eyes
Happy adrift past spades and forks and trays
Starfish decked with tar I look a prize
A sea-space monster with balaclava face.
Then I strike a rock of trailing white
Surf-like the pretty petals push me under
Flat against the turf they drown the light
Black balaclava monster now all asunder.
Mothers face crowned in mermaid red
Swimming to the August sun for cake I’m led.