66. Tom Priestly
Poet, Organiser, Performer, Musician and Radio Host
Tom Priestley was born in Leeds in 1988. He began writing poetry and fiction at the age of 19. Inspired by Hunter S. Thompson, Charles Bukowski, Jack Kerouac and John Cooper Clarke. He performs his poetry at open mic nights and has supported many bands on the Leeds music scene. He has published nearly 13 collections of poetry, and hosts his own poetry hour Urban Gristle with an online radio podcast through Cloth Cat Broadcasts, has released 2 albums Levels of Insanity and Shades of Chaos with Martin Trippett and he has also drummed for the best band in Leeds The Beer Snobs.
Poems
Smart Alec
I'd hate to be intellectual The pressure would be too intense People labouring under a false illusion Would start asking me difficult questions Expecting me to answer Using a broad vocabulary Then to wow them with erroneous facts With abstract references to relativity Articulating on my keen observations My wit as sharp as a high vis I'm astonished I'm able to dress meself Let alone recall all the letters in the alphabet I'd hate to look clever In front of a room full of people No doubt somebody will know more And knock me off my steeple I'd rather dribble out the corners of me mouth Then discuss existentialist topics Or how the philosophies of philosophers Insist reality is a basis of profit A vegetative state is perfect for me Intelligence is a subjective farce The world needs one less pretentious academic No one likes a smart Alec <<<
Bus Wanker
He storms onto the top deck Can of Polish beer in hand With a tear in his eye Giving a wink To one of the female passengers Who in an instant regrets Having made eye contact 'Hey up love' 'Evening' 'Nice earrings' 'Thank you' 'How much they set you back?' '160 from the market' '9 carat?' 'Yes' 'Nice, you wanna go somewhere? We can get off on it' 'No thanks' She reaches for the bell Gets out of her seat As her 2 daughters follow her 'Bye love' 'Bye' she says As the bus reaches her stop And 1 of her daughters jokingly says 'Mum's pulled! Mum's got a new boyfriend' 'How much longer until we get to Leeds?' A voice from the backseat chirps up '2 miles' the drunk answers 'Yeah but how long?' '2 miles' 'I mean in minutes' 'Where you from?' 'Bradford' 'You never been on this bus before?' 'Yeah but I just wanna know how long it'll take' '10 minutes' 'Good cos I need the loo' 'Just go' 'What?' 'Just piss yourself' 'No thanks' 'I do' 'OK' 'When you gotta go you gotta go, better out than in' 'Thanks Shrek but I have some dignity' 'Stick your dick out the window and do it through there' 'I'm alright' 'Where are you going?' 'Off to Scarborough for a few days' 'If I had 2 quid I'd come with you' 'My mates paying for me' The bloke on the backseat says I long to hear more but it's my stop next As I leap off my seat and head down Trying not to piss myself from laughing <<<
Coma
I'm easy to talk to Cos I don't answer back I'm venturing into a different stratosphere While you keep ignoring the facts I'd be happy breathing through a tube Rather than choking on fresh air The problem with your type is You happen to be everywhere My heart rate metered on a screen At a reasonable pace Just keep chattering away While I extricate myself from the human race Well done on your hygiene certificate That you've displayed on your fridge Once you've failed in all your endeavours You can start worshipping your kids Tell me about your neighbour Who doesn't pay their TV licence Or how you long for the day That they bring back hangings I long to hear the gossip about the bride Who had an orgy the night before the wedding Or how about so and so's eldest Getting diagnosed with gigantism Just keep mithering Witter on in hope of a solution I'm the perfect ventilator Because I can't offer an opinion Oh to be an approachable vegetable Who can't tell or know the difference A coma suits me perfectly That way I can avoid social niceties <<<
Janet From Next Door
Janet from next door says Things haven't been the same Since her husband retired He's been acting rather strange He's bought a slow cooker He's subscribed to the JML catalogue Now he wants a second bathroom installed Instead of having one standard bog His local won't serve him Since he started on that real ale stuff So he buys Three Swords ale from the supermarket Rather than supping chemically sterilised guff He's sold all his vinyl All his Sabbath, AC/DC and Styx And now listens to Anglo Industrial Techno Jazz Produced by the indigenous hipsters of Chiswick His friends on the corner Won't let him come near They say they can't associate with him Cos he taints the atmosphere He used to be a laugh Now it's all high brow convos Regurgitated from a student pamphlet Where he had trouble understanding some of the words He even has a second coffee If they go out for tea He only has one at home Janet claims she's at her wits end, naturally I tell Janet from next door Maybe she should tug him off once in a while That'll sort him out, but this falls on deaf ears As she continues to spew more bile Sometimes I want to scream 'Damn it Janet shut the fuck up!' But I bite my tongue hoping she'll reach her last breath So that her wittering will stop <<<
Kebab King
Could be horse, badger or squirrel Doesn't matter when you've had a skin full Fried onions on top with chilli and garlic One bite and you are fulfilled It's got no nutritious benefits But you don't notice when you're pissed And then in the morning you can Re-heat what you haven't finished A bit of sustenance and the body is refreshed And your hangover doesn't leave you bereft Those leftovers keep you until dinner time Until one of your mates suggests That you splash out and have a treat Have something not on the diet to eat 'How about we have a kebab?' As you swiftly decide with 'Yeah fuck it' You've already had one this morning another won't hurt That way when you start drinking again you'll be alert Ready to drink any pub dry And chat up the birds Murmurs in your stomach giving you cramps Your colon burning like the midnight lamp As you suddenly remember You've gotta get back to base camp Half cut you recall what you forgot And you have to cut the festivities short You're having tea with your parents So on the bus you hop You get there on time by a hair Your arse rumbling on the way there Arriving at the party like a king To find they've ordered you a takeaway It could be rodent, feline, canine Who cares you should be fine But you gotta eat every last morsel Cos it's on your mum and dad's dime And they want you to eat well Although right now you'd settle for a pot noodle With a fork, you dig into the undetermined meat Knowing your next venture to the bog will be brutal <<<
If I Grow Up
Everyone seems keen To reach a certain level of maturity Where they convey an image Of success and hierarchy Establishing a comfortable habitat And place within society So they can outdo their fellow apes Whether through stature or authority Happy to get old fast Assuming that with age comes respect That ones unflinching determination Is a notable attribute of survival tactics Yet however high your number All that bullshit is insignificant Cos when it boils down to it You are still a child trying to maintain their innocence If I grow up I don't want to be an embittered Victim of compromise And negotiations That are put in place To improve my situation With a duty and List of obligations I'd rather be a public nuisance An infant with a drinking license A terrifying liability Of unsubmissive defiance A fugazi of free spirited Anarchy and rebellion With no tact, thoughtfulness Or discernible sign of intelligence That would fool me into the notion Of been somewhat superior So that I have a sense of purpose While I am here Quickly set in your ways Through strict habits Of routine responsibility That you must establish To gain a healthy balance And elastic dynamic So you operate accordingly In a functional capacity Within social and economic Instances that at one point Would've sickened you And raised warning signs of integrating Yourself in a conformist agenda Simply to go along to get along Hurtling at super speed, circling the drain Until you reach life's big debt If I grow up I hope I remain Happy go lucky And not turn ugly Dark or brooding Filled with contempt And hateful anguish Cynical narcissism That eradicates Any hopeful expectance Pushed until I Blow my fucking brains out Through pressures Of others who still Cling to their maladjusted Naiive assurance Of self importance I'd rather be safe in my own world Immersed in idealistic fantasy Cos growing up just doesn't seem Rational to me <<<