London Poetry: Two Poems By Richard Purnell

Rachel Holdsworth
By Rachel Holdsworth Last edited 101 months ago
London Poetry: Two Poems By Richard Purnell

RichardPurnell.jpg Poems about our capital to celebrate National Poetry Day

Richard Purnell is a writer and performance poet based in Streatham. He gets most of his ideas from ambling around London, watching stories unfold. Richard enjoys the world-class hubris to be found on Clapham Common and warmly recommends a trip on the N68 night bus. Richard Purnell's first show, Inside the M25: A User's Guide, with Gary From Leeds, recently had a sell-out run at the Camden Fringe Festival.

Battle of the peacocks

The winter in the gym has paid right off

First hot one on the Common and he knows what he's got

The abs are ripped; the pecs are stacked

When you've got it going on you've just got to get it off

And yes, like a good boy scout

He's come prepared of course

With his orange Calvin Kleins

Peeking out the top of his shorts

A none too subtle suggestion to give the ladies pause

But what's this! Here's something he ain't bargained for

Two brash Aussies, very buff with gay hair

Have come out of nowhere

Capturing all the girls' attention

With a sickening display of cartwheels and somersaults

The challenge has been set, from man to man;

He puts down his Magner's, feigns a yawn,

Bends his body into a ball

And when all the eyes of the Common are set upon him

Rises up, and starts walking on his hands

The night bus

A bottle of water rolls past,

Full of yellow liquid,

Oh God, that isn't, is it?

Two stops in and they're having a jimmy

On the N68 night bus

And what a bloody cheek!

The girl sitting by me has gone and fell asleep

Leaving a dribble of spittle on my retro jacket sleeve

But I don't mind too much

Because I know it's all about the love

On the N68 night bus

And the boys who haven't pulled are full of lust,

A sense of duty and honour says they must

Have a little word with the doner-eating birds

On the N68 night bus

And a chap in the back is chatting black,

Going on his phone

'We need to fuck him up, blood,

He ahksing for trouble, bruv,

We need to fuck him up.'

And the girls sitting by are like,

'You need to fuck him up, blood!

You need to fuck him up!!'

For the well-bred woman it's all too much

On this rampaging beast of a bus

Headphones on and she's dreaming

Of rolling fields and clotted cream teas

She wants no more of this polyglot scene

On the N68 night bus

And the atmosphere starts to turn nasty

When a white man gets on and starts to do a whitey

He's getting called 'fucking wanker' and 'prick'

Because if there's one thing you don't do

you don't never be sick

On the N68 night bus

As his effluence rolls down the floor

Like an alien species on the march

Or the soul of an Englishman after dark

A big-haired man pulls out his guitar

And starts playing

Ooh, Baby I Love Your Way (reggae version)

Wanna be with you night and day, yay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay

And the bus turns into a magical place

Each addled face reanimates

Every weary body starts to sway

And the Christians praise Him above

Because we've been reminded

It's all about the love

On the N68 night bus

Yes, it's always all about the love

On the N68 night bus

On the N68 night bus

Last Updated 07 October 2010