Podcast A Moi show

Podcast A Moi

Summary: Some mixes of words, images and music. In no particular order.

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Podcasts:

 Ward Fourteen - York District Hospital | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

This will be my last podcast for a little while - but the blog continues here. Place of smells and silence Of faces and paper A haze of care Lift The Patient The Patient Is Lifted Handflighted into bed I can't resist Lift The Patient The Patient Is Lifted Sink featherlight forever into sheets Drift into conversations with someone. In the rain Two fat pigeons snuggle in. I perch to shit on a tea tray In the night count drips of saline Invaded by fear Memories of blood and light. The old man in the bed next door shouts " Joanna!" At least I think it was him.

 The Night You Twocced My Heart | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

The night you twocced my heart I thought it was secured - Parked, locked and under lights Taxed, tested and insured The night you twocced my heart I left it parked in gear Downhill in the suburbs And dented in the rear The night you twocced my heart It had been cleaned – it’s just The exterior trim was shabby With a lot less chrome than rust. The night you twocced my heart. At forty it was shaking It backfired in the morning And had inconsistent braking. The night you twocced my heart You’d have spotted something wrong The carburettor floods If you choke it for too long The night you twocced my heart The heat blew hot – then cold The fan-belt started squeaking And an offside tyre was bald. The night you twocced my heart It veered slightly to the left Covered only by Third Party Immune to fire or theft. The night you twocced my heart It did have a full tank – A tiger’s tail and sticker Saying “Atomkraft – Nein Danke” The night you twocced my heart. It’s one of the older types Ready for a re-tune And white Go Faster stripes. The night you twocced my heart I thought you’d soon despair The clutch is always slipping And the body needs repair The night you twocced my heart. Why you took it is a mystery. It had several careless owners And no full service history. It isn’t a new model It doesn’t always start But it went from nought to sixty The night you twocced my heart.

 October | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

always arrives a wet dog coughing like dawn doors in the gloom or axe on wood days end early too my conker socket eyes stare up at lower suns dead things turn white bellied toward the North and first frost expected thought lost etched in laced dreams of glass edges iced and a letter to a lover penned from the front line ripped open eagerly as snow falls smiling

 Cheviot Lament | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

This is a poem and some music that I wrote in 2001 at the height of the outbreak of Foot and Mouth Disease in the North East of England. I subsequently recorded it with the superb Northumbrian Piper Andy May on his album "The Yellow -Haired Laddie " released on Fellside in 2003. It was a real honour to collaborate with Andy and I hope one day to be able to write another piece of music for him.

 Sunlight | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

On the floor in my hallway Early spring sunlight on our faces We sit in shadowless conversation. Through the open door the daffodils nod acquaintance with translucent privet And the sweet smell of earth rises. You tell me about the time you sat in a room for a whole day Moving round to follow the sun As it lit each wall in turn. On reflection I think that the sun followed you And finally, at dusk Lay with its head on your lap As I do now.

 Another Country : Zevon Heaven | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

I see him standing at the door of a hotel room Somewhere downtown Just in his underwear With the light behind him Reefer Clint-clamped between his teeth A headless gunner Letting fly with his Colt 45 Laughing as he turns his back to Motherfuckermotherfuckermotherfucker Ringing in his ears My Odeo Channel (odeo/beae3566f0ffea4e)

 Another Country :The Dreams of Scotty Moore | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

The old man smiles Mother of pearl Across his fretboard Does he dream? Is this his dream? That his fingers dribble over notes Like water over the rocks of a Mississippi stream Where the dangerous boy from Tupelo Bathes in the spotlight Visible only from the waist up.

 Another Country :The Man in Black | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

His head and his hairs were white like wool, and white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire; and his feet like unto fine brass,as if they burned in a furnace; and his voice as the sound of many waters. American Bandstand. 1962. His beltbuckle leaves a searing sunspot on the screen As he prowls sleek and slick like the Arkansas panther That used to follow him home from chapel. His voice the rasp of a sharpening razor. Beehive girls swarm the foot of the stage Offer him all with their eyes Tonight he ambles, a big black bear With the barrel bellychest and saddlebag eyes Of a man who’s spent his life in the deep darkness beneath. Folsom Prison Blues. That voice Never missing a piston-beat Of the freight-train rhythm. His band of young gunfighters Still watching for a finger twitch From the Man in Black As the song pulls into the sidings He smiles like he’s seen the sun Closes it softly like a piano lid Or a coffin.

 Another Country : Hickory Wind | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

A dead weight. A desert night Black Strung out As our bootlace ties. The gasoline smell A faraway city The fleeting shadow of a man with a spear Caught in the flames. A promise kept. I remember the oak tree That we used to climb Still Someone should say something As a hickory wind Blows the smoke South.

 Another Country: Crazy | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

Randy’s flyin’ the plane I can see his neck muscles stretched taut As he tries to hold us in the storm I love that ol’ neck The hair bed-tousled From runnin’ jumpin’ an ‘ playin’ I want it all to stop To feel his hands on my face Play house. The lights of Camden Tennessee pass Low and fast Underneath I fall to pieces Crazy For thinking that my love could hold you

 Another Country : Hank Williams' Last Drive | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

Young Charlie Carr's got this tune running round his head ( It’s Jambalaya - but he don't know that. He don't speak French.) Whistles it between his teeth over heater hum and Cadi purr. Don’t wanna wake The Man Sweat-stetsoned in the back seat Staring eyeless at a desert focal point As a pallid dawn blurs by.

 Do Ya Wanna Touch? | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

I wrote this short story a couple of years ago and it was subsequently published in Sand Magazine. It's based on a real event.

 Leaving | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

Breakfast is over. John Humphries is whispering in the background A sawing noise comes from the garden Mum has looked through her Get Well Cards again. Now she’s planning her day. “What time are you leaving?” The voice is blurred Eye contact imprecise “ About 12.30” She nods like she’s understood a foreign language Everything is recorded In her “Book Of Remembrance”: Lunch! ( S leaving at 12.30 ) Look for holiday diary Geraniums Pay John Outside I foot the ladder While my stepfather performs tree surgery on the plum. I look up at him An old man in overalls swaying against a blue sky Crashing the gnarled dead wood down onto the buddleia With a murmured warning. Knows I’ve seen. He paints the fresh wounds with a grey sticky liquid Gentle as a priest As I drag branches to the bonfire His silence says as much as her talk Her talk as his silence While I the intercessor of their love Say goodbye to both of them

 Saltburn | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

A rainbow Arch - perfect Catch its colours in the street names. Emerald. Ruby. Garnet Watch the pier dribble people out over the sea Where surfers hurdle the wind-whipped breakers Under a shark-shaped cloud We walk the tideline Dig into conglomerated memories of seasides Me an excited puppy Scattering thoughts across the beach Chasing every movement You digging deeper With a pale sunlight smile. This is your place. Amber streetlamps pull the last light from the sky But we grin like dogs against the biting wind Stumbling back over rain peppered pebbles Sandblasted younger

 Echo Beach | File Type: audio/mpeg | Duration: Unknown

His redhaired son and Little Mermaid daughter are asleep A sea breeze whispers them goodnight Kashmir Weaves with cigarette smoke and talk Out into the dark of the olive grove below Far away in time Christos Family man Silversmith Friend Shirtless we push the wine bottle and conversation forward and backward like chess pieces while A mantis knits and watches from the warm wall We’ve agreed that Sotirios Kyrgiakos has settled well with Rangers And what the thing about women is Sheila at his side tuts in the Greek way that has become her Fans herself Strokes his leg That Independence Day is Philip Roth’s best novel Sheila and the mantis both look up but say nothing That sometimes you just wish … Then as a dog barks somewhere out in the night Stalemate. Was it Ultravox or Martha and The Muffins?

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