Tag Archives: fringe

I wish I was a squid

I wish I was a squid
Dreaming squiddy dreams
All squid like on the surfaces
And squidlike in between.

I wish I was a squid
With my gigantic eyes
The fact I cannot blink
Makes me look surprised.

I wish I was a squid
Or possibly a pheasant
Whichever one of the two
Is slightly phosphorescent

I wish I was a squid
On eBay I would bid
On things that keep me hid
From predators that eat squid.

I wish I was a squid
A whimper not a bang
I’m such a damp squib
I’m such a damp squid

I wish I was a squid
The things that I would do!
Going up to Jellyfish
And saying, how do you do?

I wish I was a squid
A squid is what I’d be
People’d ask if I was a squid
And I’d say yes that’s me.

I wish I was a squid
Long tentacles aid my loving
That’s why they don’t call me
The giant squid for nothing

I wish I was a squid
I would have such focus
Sitting in a vase all day
Actually, that’s a crocus

I wish I was a squid
Swimming in the depths
Keeping an eye on people’s lunch
Don’t touch that, it’s Jeff’s.

I wish I was a squid
Or some other invertebrate
Squeezing into tiny gaps
Even though it might hurt a bit

I wish I was a squid
In fact it makes me angry
I don’t have any tentacles
And none of my bits are dangly.

If you like what I’m doing, feel free to buy me a coffee any time

https://ko-fi.com/robertgarnham

You’re not so much a vampire like you used to be

You’re not so much a vampire these days, he said.
You don’t seem to be
As vampiric as previous.
No, I replied, glad you noticed that.

I used to suck life out of the obvious
Delirious in the midsummer heat.
Now I just suck
Um-Bongo from cardboard cartons
While watching Pointless.

My life is pointless.

All the good things happen during daytime hours.
It’s why I didn’t see Wimbledon again this year.
Another August without a decent summer holiday
No frolicking on the beach for me
No diving boats swim pool back flips
No crazy afternoons playing frisbee in the park.
Now I spend all of my time indoors
Writing an incredibly long poem about an ice cream.

It’s my magnum opus.

The exquisite tenderness and violence
Of sinking ones fangs into the neck
Of a maiden
Cannot match
A custard cream biscuit and a nice cup of tea.
And then you don’t have to hang around
For all eternity with them.
Eternity is such a waste of time.

How do I look?
I haven’t had a good shave in years.
Every morning in the mirror,
A Bic disposable razor hanging in mid air.
Even the undead get stubble.

I’m not as vampiric as I once was.
I’ve given up on all those late night japes.
No sir.
Not for me.
Fangs for that.
I’m a suburban vampire with agoraphobic tendencies
Cos it’s so much safer to stay at home.
I’m not going to get caught out again
Like I did during the eclipse.

I’m a stay at home vampire
A have a moan vampire
A cold dark feel alone order dinner on the phone vampire
I’ve ploughed through every single
Last of the Summer Wine box set
And now I’ve started on Only Fools and Horses.
My kettle is free of build up,
I’m Vlad the Descaler.
I’ve spent all my time making
Little suits for non existent tiny mythical creatures,
I’m Vlad the Imp Tailor
I no longer exercise at the leisure centre
I’ve fled the gym trainer
The world I see is the world without me
And that is why I’m really not
As vampiric as I used to be.

I’m glad you noticed.
Nobody else was going to say anything,
You were the first to
Stick your neck out.

My neighbour’s gone and bought some wind chimes, for goodness sake.

My neighbour’s for some wind chimes
Hanging in his tree
Perhaps he thinks they show the world
He’s a soul that’s wistful and free
But I don’t think he understands
The effect they have on me
They tinkle in the slightest breeze
It’s such a travesty.

Five in the morning
On a muggy muggy night
Five in the morning
The sky is getting bright
Five in the morning
The duvet’s all a tangle
Five in the morning
All I can hear is jingle jangle.

Oh so tinkly tinkly
Like an ideal garden scene
A moss covered rock and pond
In a flowing woodland stream
Oh so tinkly tinkly
They’re really quite obscene
Right next to my bedroom window
They make me want to scream

Perhaps he thinks they’re relaxing,
It helps the anger pass
In fact they’re just the opposite
It really is a farce
A rockery and vegetable patch
And the smell of fresh cut grass
And the bloody tinkle of the wind chimes
I’d like to shove them up his arse.

And he might think they’re relaxing
At the end of a summers day.
But round here we just get rain and wind
Yet they never blown away.
The sound of them is so annoying
And it fills me with dismay,
Tuneless like an orchestra
Who’ve forgotten how to play.

I’d like to reach in with long handled loppers
And cut the bloody things down
And then I’d hear the birds and nature
Which they normally just drown
Beneath a cacophony of tinkle tinkle
Tuneless crappy sound
Soundtrack to my insomnia,
That’s it, I’m going round!

The sky’s falling in

So I’m walking along and
Chicken Lickem comes up
And he’s all like,
Alright geez?
And I’m like,
Steady, mate, steady,
And he says
Bloody sky’s falling in,
Just stepped out the house
And a bit of it lands on me bonce,
And I’m like,
Bloody hell, you having a larf?,
And he says no mate, straight up,
So we’re off to the coffee shop and
Henny Penny’s in there having one of them
Macchiatos, and he’s like, alright Henny?
Bloody sky’s falling in, isn’t it?
And Henny turns around and says,
Pull the other one,
And he says no mate, straight up,
So then we’re off to this place that
Serves you a burger and chips, you know,
But they bung it on a lump of wood,
And Cocky Lockys in there,
And Henny Penny and Chicken Licken,
They’re like, bloody sky’s falling in,
And cocky Lockys like,
You’re having me on, right?,
And We’re like, no, mate, straight up,
And we got to the supermarket and,
Bump into Goosey Lucy and Gander Lander
And Drakey Lakey and Ducky Lucky and
Ponkey Donkey and Foxy Loxy
And Coaty Goatie and Beepy Sheepy
And Lara Llama and Mazelle Gazelle and
Pocelot Ocelot and Mangaroo Kangaroo and Steve
And they’re all like,
Shitting hell, mate,
And we’re like, no mate, straight up,
And they’re like, let’s all go to a nightclub
And we’re in the nightclub and it’s loud and he
Gets off with this woman, she’s like,
Oh Chicken Licken,
But the musics thumping and he’s like,
I don’t want a permanent relationship,
The sky’s falling in,
And shes like, what?
And he’s like, what?
And she’s like, what?
And he’s like, what?
And she’s like, forget it,
And Chicken Lickens like,
What?
And we’re all laughing and he’s all,
Hey, double sorted, double lush,
And we’re like,
Nah, mate, nah, she’s gone, and he’s like,
She was putty in my hands,
And were like, pull the other one, and he’s like,
Bloody tossbags, the lot of you.

Flexible Jim

Flexible jim
Oh flexible jim
It’s really so incredible
He’s flexible within
He can stand in the hallway
And look in the kitchen
That’s perfectly normal
If you’re flexible Jim

He’s a double jointed fella
He’s a yoga kinda guy
He can peek round corners
And nobody knows why
Flexible jim
Oh flexible Jim
So much complexity
With his flexibility

What is Jim?
Flexible!

I want to chat
To flexible jim
Find out for myself
What secrets lie within
Hey there jim
Let’s meet up and see what’s what
And Jim replied
I can’t do Tuesdays.

Static

A show about going nowhere, a show about life, a show about growing up LGBTQ in a suburb of Surrey in the 1980s.

Performance poet Robert Garnham takes the audience on a journey from a time where everything seemed to stand still.

I’ll never be employee of the week

I’ll never be employee of the week

You see their face in photographs
So proud in shirt and tie.
It’s an accolade I’ve never had
And I often wonder why.

Of course I work the best I can
With all the skills that I have got
‘Hello there!’ I’m supposed to say to customers
Instead of my usual ‘What?’

I try to learn certain procedures
And apply them to my job.
Apparently the company frowns upon
Calling a customer a ‘jumped up nob’.

Explain where you’ve used initiative,
My boss said the other day.
I haven’t thumped anyone in weeks,
Was the only thing positive I could say.

Our health and safety policy
Ensures that risk is now no more
Though it doesn’t specifically mention
Racing office chairs across the shop floor.

One moment a young trainee starts
Months later in the ranks he supersedes’ ya
Calling him a spotty faced squirt
Only leads to a grievance procedure.

Apparently a stock count is essential
Though the store room is in such a mess
It saves so much time if you can
Just try and give an educated guess.

Asked if I’d cash up the till
It’s a chore that’s no longer in my range
After I told my line manager
That I’ve developed a fear of change.

A workshop in customer services
Is something I’ve been asked to join
Since someone came in for a refund
And left with a knee in the groin.

And then there’s a sudden malfunction
With the self service automated scanner
Apparently it’s not company policy
To repeatedly hit it with a spanner.

An employee of the week I’ll never be
Nor a candidate for an actual promotion
My home made sign in the window, ‘free shoulder rubs’
Caused something of an unwanted commotion.

It’s time for your annual review,
My line manager this morning said.
We looked at each other and just sighed
And then went to the pub instead.

In the Glare of the Neon Yak

In the Glare of the Neon Yak is a riproaring piece of spoken word storytelling set on a sleeper service in the middle of winter. A train full of circus performers are being stalked by a mysterious entity which seems to mean more than just its eerie manifestation. A portent, an omen, the Neon Yak symbolises dark times. Will our hero find love? Will Jacques, the tight rope walker, get back together again with his ex, the circus clown? Does the secret of the Neon Yak lie in the hands of a randy old lady? Has the buffet car run out of sausage rolls? Will Tony the Train Manager find where they’ve put Carriage F? An hour show combining poetry, storytelling and music, In the Glare of the Neon Yak is the sparkling new show from spoken word artist, Robert Garnham.

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The A303 isn’t as long as it used to be (It shrunk)

The A303 isn’t as long as it used to be
(It shrunk)

In prehistoric times,
Apparently,
The A303
Didn’t stop at Exeter,
But kept on going.

Continental drift played a part,
Of course.
Dinosaurs, and then
The Romans
Used it to go to
Present day Nova Scotia.
There were tea rooms, so peaceful,
Very pleasant.
Mind you, no
Motorways in those days.

Genghis Khan
Got stuck behind a tractor.
Emperor Napoleon
Got stuck behind a tractor.
The Earl of Effingham
Got stuck behind two tractors.
And I bet he was
Effingham.

The Moon was slightly closer then.
Stone Age man
Worshipping cats eyes gleaming
Brighter on account of the Moon glow
Not quite so far
For Armstrong and co to go.

Cowboys in the layby,
And the hunter gatherer clans of Wiltshire
Refused to welcome outsiders.
Mostly we just
Left them to their own Devizes.