Wednesday, June 28, 2017


I’m here back at the last resort fighting for the survival
Of this place which is the only place I can live in this ridiculous town
With gentrification creeping upwards from the soon to be
Holiday flat being developed on the floor below
And insanity crashing into my shared corridor
As next door, down that shared little space, I have a guy
Who’s on something I didn’t really know about until this week
Crystal methamphetamine is nothing but bad
Bad bad as even the fumes that leak under his door
Poison me and trust me I’ve done my fair share of bad stuff
Down the years but if this shit is making me feel like this
Without direct contact I dread to think what it’s doing to him
In his quest to reach outer space

It’s kinda funny that on the stairway side I got a woman
A strange one at that but not my kind who is convinced
We are all descended from that outer space; a Scientologist
That’s what she is but at least she ain’t trying to poison me
Probably guessing I’d tear apart any argument she raised
So, right now, I feel strangely normal here in the last resort
With both neighbours heading high and into outer space
Whilst I just sit here, smoking weed and trying not to die
Every time I walk out my front door.


I've just experienced one of the problems of this 21st century existence
That moment when you've had enough of a so-called friend on social media and just want rid of them
They've messaged lots telling me how much they like me and yet they can’t help but hate me because they can't understand what it is I do in poetic form
My parents live in a big house and yet I moan about the state of my life, so fucking what
It's only that way because they worked hard to turn a mess into something great
And they wouldn't have that big house if they'd stayed here in shitty little England
If they sold up tomorrow they'd struggle to afford a studio flat in this shit tip of a town
So anyway there I was going through my list of so-called friends, eager to unfriend this wailing banshee of a woman
Only to then discover she'd already beaten me to it
Oh well fuck it, I just hope she gets to read this sometime and know that's it, no more forgiveness for you.


My beer is just that, MY beer
But the other night my need for weed
Dragged me outside where I wasn’t
Allowed to take MY beer so I left it
With someone I knew.  After the smoke
My taste buds messed I took a long hit
And immediately thought that this
Ain’t MY BEER.  I sit back and
Look around and reached the conclusion
That maybe this is MY beer.  I drink
It down and mad I go for at home
I realise it weren’t MY BEER; it was
Tainted with something that made
My mind flip out.  2 hours later
And I’m pacing my room, crying,
Dreading convinced this is my end.


Rock’n’roll died when it became something you could learn in school
Cos great old rock’n’roll was all about seizing the time, the place
And making it culture rather than just a commodity

When being rock’n’roll meant being a true outsider and not worrying about making money
As long as you had enough to get by and a love for the noise that’s all that really mattered
Now it’s all about labels and sponsorship deals

Gone are the days when rock’n’roll was a life, now it’s just a consumerist commodity
Lacking any real soul and just desperate to be cool
Rock’n’roll is fucked so I got in on this whole poetry trip

But with creative writing courses and those god damn workshops poetry is going the same way
Something that can be taught in school rather than lived and experienced
Essentially life should be the template for all great art and should never ever worry about being cool


I’ve been heartbroken so many times now
I just spend my Friday nights getting drunk with a gay guy
Getting drunk, listening to jazz and bitching about the state of our love life’s
How did it ever reach this stage? 
The jazz I can understand
But why is there all this damn heartache?
Am I hideously ugly or just plain shy?
All I know is every episode for the last few years
Has seen me dumped on to the steps of the heartbreak hotel
Whilst all she has is the life her beau can offer
No excitement and little to do besides be the obedient little house frau
That the boring career minded guy wants her to be
Whilst I just sit here, all alone
With thoughts that love shall never know me again


Now I sit here, alone again and for one of the last times
I get to look out my window at that view and I grow sad
As my time in the last resort is coming to an end
Despite it being a tough last year since David left and
He moved on in with all his trouble-making friends
And random angry visitors who sometimes camped out
In our shared corridor it has to be said that I will miss this place
As my life has been transformed since I moved in here
When I left the last place I could have no idea what this place
Held in store for me, all the words inspired and shared
With like-minded souls around the world

But now with time running out, less than forty-eight hours
Before I move myself around the corner I just hope that
Maybe, hopefully the ink won’t run dry and the words will keep on flowing...

Bradford Middleton

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...