FTMT's Favourite Five Top Tenets

Monday, September 18, 2017

Never make a song

There will always be some bit you've missed
Within that multi-coloured list
Some history that hissed
With hungry lips you didn't kiss

And was I in that moment there
But that moment's floating in the air
Still out of reach but in despair
The things I fixed in disrepair

There will always be that glimpse you had
Sixty seconds or a second flat
The truth rode out and that was that
Drowned in my innocent intoxicant

And I an instant you were gone
I had a feeling all along
That here was there but there was wrong
Those words would never make a song

These words will never make a song.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

The Ballad of Rio Tinto

Digging up Australia and moving it to China
To build your laptop chassis and a copper sheathed vagina
Buying up the Stone Age places for a couple of billion dollars
They’ll have a little money but a homeland that’s much smaller

So fire up all your furnaces your factories and fantasies
Leave the West to wallow in our pre-apocalyptic bankruptcy
I’m glad salvation’s come to manage our dependency
We’ve replaced those economics with some good old fashioned treachery

Shareholders get rich now and the guys all get a beer
Some spanking new diseases and a glittering career
Thanks to global industrials for inventions, plans and deeds
And selling us more products that no one really needs.

spider moon

there once was an enterprising spider
who built a web from the earth to the moon
I guess that she won't be back here
anytime soon

Saturday, September 10, 2016

You can never tell

when he died he was dead and gone
so we explored his house around
dead memories and screwed up stuff
screwed up stuff screwed down

rooms filled with cobwebs
and all the clocks are silent
hidden dusty dramas 
exhausted appetites' disquiet 

tattered comics from the sixties
a collection of women's shoes
christmas decorations
half empty bottles of booze

note books and diaries
Bird's Custard powder packets
amplifiers and audio devices
a quilted smoking jacket

dusty Camaro in the garage
set up on stolen bricks
greasy engines and accidents
and a box of witchcraft sticks

a bin full of cigar butts
letters to the Pope
survival gear and condensed milk
a stash of dessicated dope

they didn't find his body 
just traces of his mind
it's on Ebay now or in the dump
things you have to leave behind

spontaneous combustion
a strange way to go
abducted by aliens
or buried in the snow

plastic bag upon his head
tangerine in his mouth
his girlfriend said he loved her
but I'll always have my doubts

some people go to heaven
others explore their hell
what you leave remains a mystery
no one can never can tell

Friday, June 17, 2016

Golden Meanings

Your wife's so glad you've buggered off
The husband's happy you've quit your job
Now we can freely say what we couldn't say
In the great golden meaning of the day

Religion is a crock of shit
Nothing more you can do with it
Everybody's said what they had to say
With the great golden meaning of today

So here's your life and here's your fate
You start to live just a little too late
The dawn of something gets in the way
It's the great golden meaning of today

Roll up and buy a ticket
Some paradise awaits
Don't ask me what to make of it
I'll just increase the rates

Don't ask for explanation
Don't ask for guides or books
Stare into space and breathe in
Keep eyes closed you can't look

And take that medication
To take bad thoughts away
Your half way outside nowhere's
Golden meaning of today.

Thursday, May 05, 2016

Somewhere in the flow

My father kept their wedding cake in the freezer
After the funeral he gave it to the gardener
But there was never a perfect person around
Just half a devil and half and angel in you
But we flow together, like water
Until I can't tell you from me

Let your brother down, let your sister go
Take the long way round, ever in the flow

She is like a tree, she shelters me
So I lie here, in this shade
Help each other, love everyone
Every ray of light you count and forgive
I had no faith but you knew all along
Were you afraid? Really afraid?

Let your brother down, let your sister go
Take the long way round, ever in the flow

We all lose something along the way
Gloves and scarves and memories
Things turned over and down
Drawers with forgotten contents
Journeys we no longer need to make
Hats and coats and memories
We all lose something along the way

Let your brother down, let your sister go
Take the long way round, ever in the flow

Somewhere in the flow.

Wednesday, January 07, 2015

My Ghost

I was shivering in your shoes
Never had so much to lose
Try to catch up but you won't come close
Standing there in some stranger's clothes
Must be the one you love the most
Sayin' "do you want to be my ghost?"

Do you, do you, do you,

Want to be my ghost?

Be my ghost.

Thursday, June 05, 2014


So what's on TV? Nothing in particular. 
Look forward to nothing save Game of Thrones, Fargo or the slowly diminishing Modern Family clones. 
I must find some meaning, some significance beyond the archway of flashing coloured lights and slowly growing, groaning sounds.
 More wine, more Mediterranean, more oil and fish and looking out of the window or talking pish. 
More whittling and turning, more sitting in the chair and squirming. Less politics and votes and grabbing others by their rasping throats. 
I don't change opinions, not with my bad leg and the war and the things that might be affected a little more like the economy and houses and prices and choices.
 Who ever knew? Things were so connected when the government go itself selected. If you can call it that. 
Those who believe what they want to believe, who avoid any facts or attitudes to relax or review or chew things over in an informed way, well maybe some day. 
More lyrics and pies, more repairs and sincerely meant attempts and tries and filling the space behind my eyes with dodges, bodges and curmudgeonly fudging the things I'm been loving or inadvertently hurting. 
So here comes the dust and the groans and the rust, the smoke alarm reminders and the email dividers and the updates and the tweets but at least I know of a comfy seat, somewhere.

Friday, May 02, 2014

Turning blue

In the spring, head in the sand
crossed the bridge, came upon a dying man
coffee cup, all washed up
here's my life, harmonica playing in Fife

In the winter, spent my days
walking coastal paths and crooked ways
choked in fog, soaked in rain
looking out for you, but turning blue

Turning blue, seeing it through
Everyone else seemed to know what to do
I spoke my mind but I was drunk and blind
so I'm still waiting for you, turning blue.


If I were a girl, I'd make a point
of marrying a tall guy
and at the wedding I'd wear
stripper heels under my dress
so I could tower graciously
above all the guests.

If I were the recipient
of a banker's big bonus
I'd take over a restaurant for the night
maybe Tony Macaroni's
there would be pasta and wine
and much excited chatter
and I'd make it clear to all my guests
that money doesn't really matter

If I had a racehorse
It would be a bit of a dark horse
I'd expect it to win races
but as it crossed the finish line
I'd be looking at the bookies faces

If I was a television presenter
there on the exclusive couch
I'd wear a T shirt under my shirt
on it would be printed
“fuck the lot of you.”

If I was the kind of person
who's in literature
who speculates
I wouldn't consider this type of writing to be

If I was a music teacher I'd say to my pupils
“stick to the pentatonic”
because all those natural scales
sound bloody chronic.

“If” is a film
by Lindsay Anderson
I saw it when I was fifteen
or some age between
black and white
it may have had an certificate X
I forget

“If” is a song on Atom Heart Mother
Track 3, side 2 on vinyl
I had a copy but it was destroyed
in a fire.
Telly Savalas got to number one
with another “If”
not the Pink Floyd one.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Vanilla Man

Vanilla Man. 
That's what I am.
 Not one thing or the other just as regular as a slice of Spam. 
All the issues that don't bother, minorities and majorities, 
there's only me, as ordinary as eggs and ham. 
I'm the vanilla man. 

Never had an issue, never felt that strong, 
or argued my position, tried to right the wrong. 
I'm so unaffected, so steady on my feet,
 never guilty, never lifted, I'm the man upon the street. 
Yes I have opinions, but I keep them to myself. 
Got dreams and ambitions but they won't affect my health.
 I consume the usual products, I earn a living wage,
 I read the normal papers, but not quite every page.
 I have romance and glamour, a little in my life, 
I drive within the limit, I know my way round Fife. 

I'm the vanilla man, 
no strong flavours and no strawberry jam, 
no custom options, I don't give a damn, 
If you're lookin' for average then that's what I am. 
Three score and ten not counting. 
A plain vanilla man.
Vanilla Man.

Friday, March 21, 2014

Song nobody listens to

San Franciscan Sour Dough Bread
In my heart and in my head
Want a long life livin' don't want to end up dead

San Franciscan Sour Dough Bread
Red wine red lights red unpronounceable delight 
No necessary evil to take me to the heights 
Of San Franciscan Sour Dough Bread.