Danny Boyle, Darkness and the 27 Club
By Overthetop1
- 4440 reads
It’s the first Saturday of the Olympics and the
pollen shoots into the heart of my immunity like
V2’s yet it’s odd how the more my nose pours
words snatches of lyrics ping-pong around my
crater-box-brain but who wants to watch table
-tennis when you can flinch at two Austrian’s
trying to anchluss their way through the Murray
brothers Andy is still fighting his opponents and
demons so hard it amazes me the will of instinct
so Kurt’s here is he vomiting his deviant twisted
thoughts into the atmosphere where they coagulate
into something so beautiful only the scared
scarred can comprehend I curse my fucking so
-called creativity which robs me of any
normality shit Andy wears that dark look the I
will not tolerate sub-standard serves face that
prompts him to throw his racket across the court
you can tell he wants to target Jamie’s thick
skull hold tight Andy beware of no love lost
thank God for Danny Boyle’s images which spear
sporadically through the tennis I loved it when
the boy looked at Johnny brave to go underground
and not care what society wants except yes we do
need Attlee’s NHS which we should be so proud of
don’t you dare fuck with it you bastards
in a useless wavering coalition then a quick
snatch of London Calling but blink and Amy has
vanished again so back to Wimbledon and Jamie’s
serve still doesn’t stand up to the better
brother’s scrutiny so I sing Jamie Jamie Jamie
you know I’ve been here before but he doesn’t of
course it’s Amy who knows what becomes before and
after it all Christ I’ve collapsed onto the bed
so exhausted with so many events taking place
simultaneously now I’m gazing at the ceiling like
Polly Harvey under ether the snot lashes down the
my throat like lava it scalds so show me the way
to the next whisky bar because a different
Polly’s back hurts she’s just as bored as me but
that bit’s bollocks I feel more of a nauseous
numbness yet my hands tingle with panic it’s my
heart careering thumping around like a boxing
match when I try to disentangle myself from
straight-jacket sheets I’m feverish wet and am
losing my body heat the cassette plays poptones
whilst I write with that sick compulsion I only
stop to piss sneeze wheeze weigh myself drink
more coffee so jittery sick with adrenaline and
fear someone help I know I am losing control fast
sanity sifts sand-like through my fingers as
rapidly as Ian’s shadow faded he never made it to
27 yet Amy may be drawn to him because she too
gave them what they wanted she let them use her
for their own ends but she has found someone else
who knows he’s no good she launches a package
fastened with a heart-shaped hair-grip with
Kurt’s name on when he peels back the layers he
finds warm milk and laxatives ah sweet erratic
Amy is just a lost little girl who can’t keep
still though one flutter from huge bat-winged
eyes may be enough to re-ignite Jim’s smouldering
embers into that bright burning fire he yearns
for but don’t forget Jimi he’d wear Amy well he
knows this is a golden soul-girl yeah he did that
thing through his guitar he beckons to her
through a fluorescent purple haze so which bad
boy path does she choose when she knows damn well
that as she canters spindly legs teetering in
fuck-me pumps down her lane crazy tumbledown hair
flying it will be the wrong track love is always
a losing game she runs petrified she will be left
to wake up alone facing her black so on the floor
by her feet there still sits that infamous bottle
well today seems to be all loss and the lost
losers are probably cowards they don’t deserve
medals maybe Sunday I can revive a bit of the
dead in me tomorrow tomorrow will never belong to
people like us will it?
The following people moistened my dry cracked brain with bits of inspiration in their own way (all apologies for misinterpretations, misquotes and typos); Andy and Jamie Murray, Kurt Cobain (RIP), Danny Boyle, Tony Parsons and Julie Burchill, The Clash, the late, great Labour leader Clement Attlee, Ian Curtis (RIP), Polly Harvey, Paul Weller, John Lydon, Jim Morrison (RIP), Jimi Hendrix (RIP), Muse, Jeff Buckley (RIP), the Cocteau Twins and the incredible, unique Amy Winehouse (RIP). Last but not least this is also a tribute to my great Mum who is thankfully still alive and creating but is also nearly as bonkers as me.
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Comments
This is such a profound
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I agree with the others.
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Good to see you back on
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Mindblowingly
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How the hell did I miss
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This is our Facebook and
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I thought this was
TVR
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That's very nice of you,
TVR
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