neal pike sst9 audtoirium show draft 2

18 Jun

i dont like this at all but i have no idea how to improve it so feedback is very much welcome this is esstially a place holder

my plan is to have some kind of scene with me behind some kind of market stall with various being the extras in my poem and my friends music playing ,may have him there unsure yet. lighting want it bright to resemble day light

my good left ear ,hears
the rhythmic bashing of a tin pan drum
band, getting themselves warm

in this south London carnival sky

the tubes are full with
the raucous rabble
of excited twenty somethings
my aged eyes
can already see the
red strip dropping from their fingers
tree stump joints in their gaping mouths
past this coconut stall

wait it happened before

ive been holding coconuts
holding this carnival stall

since the sky was black and white

my father had this before me
before, they knew what
coconuts where

now they the people
drink them to cure
what’s gone on before
my hands have become hard
like an old coconut

not the jelly ones
congreteing in box beside me
waiting to be drilled and drunk

the sky starts to smell like
like battery acid but sweeter

i my eyes become stalks
the customers will come

a hand pokes in me the chest

“bruv your going to miss says someone my age smoke and ash around his beard miss all young uns swaying around like drunk leaves in the summer sky”

yes mate I say
we do
forget that we were not born with walking sticks and a earing aid
we where this
I let my finger become a pistol at the person
throwing up at midday outside hmv

that once was a newsagents
next door to a fish mongers
we where him
came at 5 am when sun
warmed up the
faded beer stains of our tee shirts

opened the door
carrying a coconut
which mum with a tiger smile
on her face hacked
into piecies

look into your suited
button downed shirt brain
we didn’t just become us we lived

yeah we may not of
let our fists become bricks
on a Tottenham high street
but we were not the

8 pm to bed angels we
think we where
smoke still covers my lungs

as I reach my hand to cover my mouth
it sounds like drums
and dodgy music

that used to be dub its now
called dubstep
they are here past me now
onto the green expanse near my coconut stall

they where still there till the sun is dancing
in Australia

il be in bed by 10 these days
my ears will be a ringing drum
my heart still pumping
from the day

I grab a coconut from its
batterd box
drill a straw into it
hand it to the girl who probably
has been there a while

“thank you mr coconut man
I heard everything of that”


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