Some poems

© Rick Alexander and Fishfinger, 2009. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Rick Alexander and Fishfinger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Captain and Miss Peggy
(go courting and rhyming)

Captain Codpiece breezed in from the sea
On a ship with a crew who were dirty and few,
And announced loud and clear to all who would hear,
“I’m coming ashore and I’m sailing no more!
I tried to persuade my favourite mermaid
To swim in the buff and all that stuff,
But she’d had enough, went off in a huff!”

He then spied Miss Peggy striding nearby,
Doffed his hat and offered to gratify
Her every dark whim with clandestine sin,
Said he was skint and dropped heavy hints:
“I like ratatouille,” said he, “With my turkey,
And filagree gnocchi with chickpea bourgeoisie,
But I am unemployed, as well as rheumatoid, and
The ship’s harpsichord was washed overboard,
And a warlord abroad did eat my smorgasbord,
Which I tell you got me really annoyed!
And so glum as I am, I’ve succumbed to the rum,
The outcome of which is my troublesome tum!”
Miss Peggy considered: “Well, come round for tea,”
“Yes please,” he did plead, “but will it be free?”
“Squeegee!” she did squawk, rather obscurely,
“But you might be aware I’ve prepared an eclair,
And do not despair, we might have an affair!
Also, my art, I may say, is my tart served a la carte,
And we’ll partake of my cake that I baked, don’t be late…”

The captain had class and so
Washed his glass eye and polished his brass,
And set his alarm for three.
He arrived at her door with red roses galore,
What a dashing fine captain was he!

“Good afternoon, Miss Peggy,
And are you quite well,
And are you not a pretty young gel?”
In her cheek rose a blush, and she whispered, “Please hush –
I had neglected to mention my husband’s detention
In some far out dimension!
I’d forgotten about him, what a terrible thing!
He just slipped my mind, you know how it is
When you’re primed and refined,
And you mime all the time, to a rhyme so sublime!”

Not to be outdone by a pun, the captain cried, “Crumbs!
If he’s not back by one, we might have us some fun
With a strawberry bun, and if he still stays away,
Then let me just say, a nice roll in the hay
With a little foreplay would just make my day!”

Rick Alexander © 2000

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The Therapist

A DAY so damn bad it was worse than a curse,
My post-modern landlady in her house like a hearse,
Chucked me out but not so surprising –
A tough cookie my hardcore landlady is she,
A sixties lead guitarist in drag and drinks Bailey’s,
But moans that I’m tuneless and useless and idle and sleeveless,
Bovine and incompetent,
She rants and she screeches…

Yeecchh…
Earlier that morning she launched a tirade at me
(She nurtured a private coke habit, you see):
Said: I hate your astrology, your pseudo-psychology, your bone-idle-ology,
Your habit of keeping rude words in a vase,
Then letting them loose to run down the stairs
In the dark wearing suspenders and bras –

Then she really got going…
Your head’s too small and your nose is all bent / Your penniless habits grate on my sense
Of big profit and foul play and bad endings / You fiddle my meter, help yourself to my freezer,
Your junk food and hotmail and ravings at midnight / Your bombastic monologues and unsavoury practices
Make me freak! And through your keyhole I see you slither and sneak,
Pretending insanity, counting black sheep / Your theory of money is just cheerful and cheap!
You’re broke and you’re hard up, and you owe me back rent,
So do me a favour and beat it –

Well…
So soon that evening alone was I,
Singing sad tunes in Nightingale Square,
Oh spare me that row a passing mugger complains,
I say give me some dosh and be on your way,
Grumbling but hands over his wallet, kind mugger,
Makes a change, you old bugger and I move on forthwith,
To buy me a fish in newspaper with chips.

Why not…
And in that paper what grabs my attention,
Is a man advertising some psychological ablution,
Says just visit him anytime, no appointment required,
I do think I need help I say to myself,
I agree says I and hail two cabs nearby,
One for me, make it snappy and the other one too,
Shepherd’s Bush I say and don’t go the wrong way…

So shortly…
I ring on his bell and his wife opens up / Come in you don’t know us but you’re welcome to join us,
We’re stranger than you are and that’s stating a fact / But the doctor’s a good man and he’s not that bad looking –
His methods are odd but he’s not having you on / he’s got three pee-aitch-dee’s and he’s not often wrong –
He’s in the toilet right now where he does his best thinking / sit down in that chair and pass me the beer –
YOUR PROBLEMS ARE OVER! then roared a great voice / Cost you no more than a fiver, TRUST ME!

Doctor who?
So here is the man I had travelled to see / Grabs my hand in his paw like mad cow on steroids,
He’s beefy with glass eye and trenchcoat and trilby / Ushers me into his office without ado or a door,
Introduces himself quickly, says his name is John Kennedy / Has spent time in prison and mental institutions,
Once flew with Jack Nicholson over cuckoo’s nest movie / In Madison Square Garden has boxed himself senseless,
Down Pennsylvanian coal mines has dug out the black stuff / Proclaims himself humbly a self-professed arsehole,
He was a figment of my wildest and worst imagination…

Is this real…?
Doctor sits in his chair and he rolls out a spliff / His questions come fast like he works for the police,
Do I talk Serbo-Croat, have I overdosed on goat / Is my Jupiter in Pisces, are my juices still rising,
If magenta is the aura of cosmic banana, what, anally, is the value of poo?
All manner of questions, all sorts of stuff / Would I go ten-pin bowling with him in the buff?
We swap body language and more time goes by / My patience runs out, despairing, I sigh –

What the…?
Then there’s a knock and a blonde vision comes in / Name’s Candy smiles she, just dropped in for tea,
Hi gorgeous says doc, come sit on my knee / Flashes a grin, says she shouldn’t but just for a minute –
Good doctor then grabs her and gives her a grope / I watch in amazement, hey, what’s happening here?
This not my scene to further partake in / Say thank you and cheerio, must really get going,
Throw him a fiver, the current rate for a rip-off / Take my jacket and make for the door –

Then…
Standing outside clueless and blonde appears smiling / Says hi and nice evening and can I give you a lift?
Explain my mad landlady expelled me after a tiff / And I’m not keen to sleep in the dark in the park.
We climb in her car and I remember this clearly / Turning to me she says slowly and carefully:
Tomorrow’s my birthday and I’d like you to share it / Come back to my place, relax and have coffee,
Forget all our problems while we listen to Ravi / I tell you my friends, that’s how it happened!

Finally…
On her futon at her place we kissed very gently,
Like we were teenagers, like our very first time!
Under the duvet at dawn she was consummate perfection,
Outside in the shadows I heard nightingales canoodling,
In the very far distance a landlady was bellowing,
And somewhere a mugger was practising blindfolded,
But we slept the pure sleep of the guiltless and jobless,
And in the morning she woke up with a boy on her birthday…

Bottom lines…
So she got what she wanted but what about me?
I thought hard about it and you’d have to agree,
Was my best five pounds ever coughed up on therapy!

Rick Alexander © October 2000

This whole story is based on a real-life experience, down to the smallest details, even the bit about Ravi Shankar. It happened to me in 1974, and the only thing that I changed was that instead of a landlady throwing me out,it was Brenda throwing me out! I did in fact once have a landlady who resembled a lead guitarist,and who also enjoyed the odd cocaine sniff, but we got on fine. The therapist’s name was actually Tony (not John Kennedy), he was American, and he didn’t need any embellishment, he was just unbelievable, and all that stuff about him is broadly what he told me himself! Amazing character.

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CAR-CRAZEEY!

We wuz footloose and free in nineteen six-tee
There wuz hot rods and comics an Elvis wuz king
Our gang wore blue jeans as we played us some pool
The beer wuz ice-cold, hot jazz wuz like cool…

Wuz courtin’ a girl at the time name of Betty
Loved movies and bebop and good times and jelly
Chewed gum an we hung out an held hands by moonlight
We wuz broke but who cared she wuz giggly and funny –

We needs us some wheels mah girl says to me
So we can go cruising’, maybe take in a show
Sure, like let’s just do it I say and go off
To grease up mah dad an borrow some dough…

I needs get me some wheels I say to mah old pop
Sure son he say all you need is a job
Uh uh daddy-o my life’s way too cool
Get real, kid he say, look where I got today –

Give up on mah dad he’ll give me no cash
So go look at the cars check their style and their sass
Maybe fat dealer will gimme some joy
Sweet talk him into a car for this boy –

Dealer say step right here kid an he dangle a key
I say heck am I dreamin’ this is one mean machine –
Yours to drive away jus’ a few dollars down, son
Run your hands over da body, oh yeah she jus’ fine!

Take her for spin kid, man says to me
You kiddin’ says I, ain’t nothin’ I want more!
Thas okay but just sure to be back by four
Any customer a mine is a good friend to me –

Climb in the cabin, belt me in an it’s heaven
Every gadget galore an white leather with buttons!
Big TV in back an even a fridge
Chrome deck an hubcap, pure sex that big mama –

First thing to do is pick up mah Betty
Eyes open wide screams hotdog you’re a winner!
Plants me a smackeroo smooch on the kisser
Snuggles real close an boy this is the life!

Car a wet dream with big fins an blue metal
Go like a bomb jet rocket tanked up
Me at the wheel with girl in mah pocket
Wind in ah faces oh wow we wuz somethin’!

Foot on the floor that cruiser gets movin’
Betty chews gum an the Beach Boys are hollerin’
Highway go by at such a lick we is flyin’
In the mirror lights flashin’ an cops are a-wailin’ –

Whadda we do now I shouts at mah Betty
Go faster an lose ’em! She blows a big bubble
There’s turnin’ ahead that’s sure to fool ’em
Do ya fancy a beer? We got us some cold ones!

There’s no-one touch Betty for calm where there’s trouble
A girl in a million I always did say
Popped the clutch an this baby go really ballistic
Hundred an fifty an Betty she jus’ laffin’!

Sirens an cops are sure tootin’ an hootin’
Leaned into that corner on two wheels I swear
Next thing I know we is jumpin’ an spinnin’
Outta control an it downright scary –

Crashin’ an bashin’ we soon come to rest
Betty is white an she cryin’ an I doan like it neither
What a bummer she sniff an she not so wrong
Cop face in window say you kids in biiiiiggg trouble!

They haul us right out and snap on the cuffs
Doan wanna look at that car, she bent all out of shape
That dealerman gonna be VERY unhappy
And as for my dad he gonna blow his top right off –

You kids are a menace dat ole judge do say
I’m gonna have to jus’ put you away,
Time in the slammer will straighten you out
Be a good citizen an keep your nose clean –

Say goodbye to mah Betty say see ya real soon
Says in a while crocodile an blows me a bubble,
In that ole jail they got plenty of jelly!
Look, when we get out why doan we get married –

Even ex-jailbirds can have them a wife!
Be cool an go cruisin’ an dancin’ an boppin’
We’ll be broke forever but it doan really matter
We got us a life an a baby called Billy –

Rick Alexander © October 2000