STONED OR NOT, WHOSE TO KNOW?

by Bradford Middleton

My mind is gone; the last toke has been smoked
It’s built a gorge between me and normality
As now I begin to realise that all these years
Have taken their toll on my beautiful mind
Maybe this time because it’s been so long since last time
But this time was the worst yet as I became aware

Aware that the way things were going nothing would last
That eventually I’d pass the point of too much
The point where I could stop and still nothing would change
So can I continue doing this or is this really the end?
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly quit and
Now upon examining my tin I realise what’s going to be

Long days of feeling down and long nights of struggling to sleep
Moments in public where it’ll stop making sense
Those times at home, hopefully alone, where nothing will comprehend
All of these could see me stoned or not and that is the problem
When the two become indistinct and even I struggle to understand
Just what is going to happen in whatever time or place.

MORE TO SPEND BUT STILL NOWHERE TO GO

by Bradford Middleton

Awakening with a renewed spring both outward and inwards this one looked
I ate down some breakfast and began to think
It’s never a good idea when it comes to things in my life
I’m still working the crummy job but it ain’t so bad that I’d want to quit
But the flat is turning into a cavern of books, records and films on them damn crooked floors
What’s more them mice have returned, bolder, smarter and last night they kept me up past 1
Scratching at my bedroom door I gave up leaving the door ajar, rolling over, off to sleep

All I dreamt about last night was sleeping somewhere else
A quiet peaceful place where I would annoy no one with my occasional bouts of insane rock’n’roll
So this morning when I woke up I do some sums and couldn’t believe what I read
I could escape, this time, I will escape.  This time I have enough for somewhere decent,
Away from the wailing of sirens, drunk clubbers and families meandering
Excitedly I run my errands and get to go online; I run a search on a popular site and await...

There are exactly 100 of them, I start looking around; somewhere near the Downs would be nice
I grab details of a dozen or so and excitedly make the calls when I get back home
The first one goes well until he asks about me; do you earn £14k sir. Erm, no... I claim housing benefit
The second one follows suit, by the ninth one it’s the first question I ask
Do you take DSS? I work part-time you see, the answer No came back every single time
So what am I to do? Right now, I don’t know if I’ll stay or go, this whole nightmare brings me down

ISOLATION

by Bradford Middleton

My only grip on anything sane has gone
And with my phone line goes my mind
As no more conversations with the outside world
Now it’s just me and this damn town
Where it appears I only know a few
And all of them are out of their minds

Out of their minds on isolation and solitude
Something I can really relate to now
Stuck at home with no company except my mind
And when that unravels it leaves me just wanting
A shoulder to cry on maybe
Or even just someone sane to talk to

But now the only thing I can get
Is more isolation and solitude as I
Struggle to raise the funds for any thing
Except a cheap happy hour drink and
An occasional toke on some medicine
To make me forget all the problems

GOING HOME (MANY MILES AWAY)

by Bradford Middleton

This time tomorrow I’ll be speeding my way home, away from this town that keeps me down
A whole week to escape, relax and wash off the effects of living this kind of life
A whole week where the streets will be different to those I’m bored of walking around
A whole week when I’ll have a sane conversationalist with whom to inter-act

Home is many miles from here; in a different country in fact
Where a different language, currency and way of life persuade
Me into thinking that something has gone terribly wrong
England’s a mess and only getting worse with not enough space or enough jobs

I’m just grateful that my time here is running out
And a big house in the middle of nowhere will someday be mine
Which if I sold I couldn’t even afford a one-bed flat in London
As if I’d ever want to return to that place then

So the next week at home will be a time to cherish
A time to escape the insanity of this life
In a wonderful village in the middle of nowhere France
Where the place feels old and the life is great

THE LAST DAYS IN THE LAST RESORT

by Bradford Middleton

Doors slam, mice run
It’s always fun and games
Here at the Last Resort
Where the building shakes
As people let doors slam.
The mice get jittery
As I do too with not even
The ubiquitous weed
Managing to ease my nerves.

It feels like I’m the one
The only one who can admit
What is happening and the
Horrible feeling that our
House is collapsing.
It needs major work
But it’s in an area where
That kind of work would
Cost a small fortune.

CITY OF LIGHTS

by Bradford Middleton

The city of lights is a stop-gap en route home
It never lasts as long as I would like
I only get to look out windows at the sights
Or loiter at train stations with nothing to do

Nothing to do but sit and smoke
Watching the beauty of the women all around
Drinking the ubiquitous mega latte as it’s
The only thing that’ll last long enough

Paris is the place to watch so
I sit outside a café near du Nord
A random businessman enters a sex shop
For his lunchtime fix of lust

I just sit back and ogle the bar-maid
A gorgeous young thing
Of African descent who got me a seat
With only the faintest of smiles

But then I got to dash after four roll-ups
And all that latte
To get my train
To take me home

GOOD FRIENDS

by Bradford Middleton

It all went wrong with just one stupid status update
With some licks at my keys life had changed
Was I coming back to London or going someplace else?
The answer seemed easy
But in reality proved impossible as I did my sums
I was staying as I had no means of escape
And that, quite frankly, made me sad

Not at the thought of missing my old friends
But at the lack of any thing I would miss
If I’d been lucky enough to make the escape
Here is hard when you’re down on your luck
Like me and countless others in this town
Of cool which I could never wish to be a part of
Not at my age, not looking a mess

It all went wrong that miserable day
And I’ll never forgive the idea that I thought
It would be so easy to
Just pack up and go with nothing to miss
And plenty of old places and faces to catch up with
As if I’d never left at all
But I have and I shall remain here until I’ve had enough

I’m going to leave on my own terms
Not be hounded out by some crazy types
Who masquerade as my friend
Just for someone to hang out with and
Talk shit with but never truly comprehends
So in respect I have to get rid
And make a new start in this old town
Starting with new friends; good friends I hope

WHICH WAY TO GO

by Bradford Middleton

The flecks on the horizon is where I want to be
Out of this town that destroys my kind
No sustainable form of electronic device to keep me occupied
Then what is there to do?  Read a book, maybe even write a book
Or even worse the thought of work
That place that sends me to the brink
So no all I do is drink, drink and smoke
This existence is killing me slowly

I got to make the great escape
And I ain’t talking about some shitty music gig
I’m talking out of this town
Never to return as I move on to other things
The idea of London terrifies but thrills me
A lot of great friends to be seen again
Who’ve missed me I know cos they’ve told me so
It does sound tempting I must confess

But wait, it’s not the London of old, the London I knew
It’s been borisfied to the point of death and the last time I was there
In the heart of Soho I sat down and wept at what it had become
A building site of biblical proportions with no sense of character
Just another faceless assortment of streets through which
I walked and wondered what had become of the London of old
The place that used to thrill and excite
It had largely gone to be replaced by some huge train link

Brighton is getting madder by the day
I see it everywhere I go people going out of their minds
Occasionally the fever will grip me too
I’ll be sat in the room smoking a joint when the fear will come
And all I can do to get through it is shut my eyes and let it all flood out
These words came out of one of those experiences
Flooding out on to the page at the rate at which my brain dictates
Thank god for my madness it’s the only thing keeping me sane

So the decision is the madness of this town or the return to the old
I don’t know which way to go

HANGOVER BLUES

by Bradford Middleton

I woke up this morning and I felt like death
My ribs were aching and sore and my head
Just drowning in the remnants of last nights
Courageous drinking session

We’d drank loads that much I can remember
Six bottles of wine I can just about remember
But the nightcap at the end sent me over the edge
Still today it don’t make me feel any better

Cos I got the hangover blues
The hangover blues are here to stay

I woke up that afternoon and my head
And ribs still ached like fuck
But at least I wasn’t still drunk
That was a blessing as it signalled the end

The end of the hangover blues
Which just leaves with the unfortunate blues

THE WATER OF LIFE

by Bradford Middleton

L’Eue de vie is the water of life
95 proof but flavoured with fruit
I’ve seen what it can do
The power of this way of life
Bastille Day 2011
Jean-Francois rocks up with
The bottle of life and as it
Goes round the banter gets
Louder and more raucous on
This most important of days

As the fireworks go off
The hollering and wailing grow
Louder still and there’s not
A dog in sight just people
Out of their minds on life and
Their joy of this moment that
Comes but once a year on
This special day
The bottle was gone but the
Fun was on

CRAZY TRAVEL PLANS

by Bradford Middleton

I’ve done a lot of crazy things in my life
But nothing compares to the time I decided
To move my life back home by train
From Stoke to London with four bags to haul
All my worldly goods on my back and in my hands
The records, the books, the clothes
It’s all too much for my puny body to handle
But onward I go to the first departure point

The bus into town to the train station
Where the ticket inspector looks aghast
As I stumble onto the concourse
Hoping there is enough time to smoke
A big strong roll-up to send me on my way
Back to the civilization of London town
Once it’s smoked I look up again and
See the train pulling into the platform

Onto the train I clamber
Pulling my stuff behind me
I find a double seat near a luggage drop
And systematically fill it up
With all my gear before I
Sit back, relax and finally snooze
The train takes off but I’m too
Tired to move so just sit back and sleep

Two hours later and we are there
Friday lunchtime and the madness of Euston train station
I have to get my stuff down to the tube
And it’s here I realise I’m really back in London
People all around me ignore my obvious need
For assistance and even barge past me
In a rush to get somewhere important
I stumble on through the tunnels and then onto the tube

Hurtling out of town to a place I’ve never been
This place will be my new home for a while
But to where from here I’m not sure
As the tube arrives I again crawl out of the carriage
Onto the platform and over to the stairs
Where I clamber up and hope the walk isn’t too far
This place will be my domicile for a while
But to where from here I’ve no idea

THURSDAY LUNCHTIME INSANITY

by Bradford Middleton

Thursday lunchtime and on my way to work
When the madness takes a grip on everyone I see
A man scared of his own shadow
Who veers violently off the curb
At the mere sight of my presence

A poor little rich girl who can’t afford
What’s the latest must-have item
She’d only just read about and was so
In demand she merely sat down and wept
In the middle of the pavement

All around madness takes hold and
I feel it seeping into my own consciousness
But all I think about is getting to work
And getting that done and getting home
Where I’ll progress my own madness to all new levels

LIFE ON THE ROAD

by Bradford Middleton

The life on the road came to me one day
Walking up the hard shoulder of the motorway
Being told to get off by the transport cops
We only want a lift I try to explain
You’ll have to pick it up at the next services
Cos you’re not allowed to do it here
How far is that then I ask the cop
It’s only a short little walk, a couple of miles
At most he tells me

We finally arrive and am hungry
Desperate for a lift but also for some
Sustenance to help the journey
After a while a cigarette is needed
So outside we go to light up our drug
Not sure of where we are or how
Much further we need to go
We smoke our smoke and wonder
What to do now

Then it happens and everything is fine
A lift has arrived and they even
Know where it is we want to go
Sheffield we say, ah The Leadmill
They declare to our surprise
Why yes is it that obvious I ask
Its no problem they say we can
Probably even find you somewhere
To sleep tonight if you want

Yes please we say and the drive is on
That glorious feeling of freewheeling
Up the motorway to a place unknown
A look around at what is to offer
Before its off to the gig and great it is too
That night we sleep overlooking a cemetery
From a grand old house but then the real
Fun comes later as we hit the road again

THE HEAT WARPS

by Bradford Middleton

Smoke rings rise from my mouth
As my body starts to wrinkle in the heat
My mind can’t think as the smoke takes hold
The longer I smoke the heat intensifies my blast
And I just wilt wishing there was a breeze
This sun is too hot for me to think
So all I can do is sit and ponder on the idea of survival

The sun comes out rarely for which I am thankful
As it does tend to bring with it some major irritants
The idiots on the beach make me crave for winter
The lovely cold air and the beach all to myself
Out there now all I can see are people
Frying their skin under the oven-ready sun
All I can do is sit back and wonder what became of my lovely fan

GLASS MAN

by Bradford Middleton

A man’s face is ingrained in dirt in my window
He looks panicked as if he is stuck there
Horrified at the prospect of remaining forever
Entrapped in my window

The man of glass bludgeoned forever in
Cold exposed style knowing he could
Well be gone with a gust of wind or
Even a bit of rain

DELUSIONS OF COOL

by Bradford Middleton

Ketamin fuelled delusions of community
For the children of Thatcher’s children
Digging their own minds cos
Their convinced of their own cool

All they know is where to shop
And what t-shirt is cool
All they is know is simply fuck all

Cool ain’t about what you appear to be
It’s all about soul and dignity
The life you have lead, the things you have done
These are what make a person cool

So wear your Black Flag t-shirt
But not because it’s cool
Wear it because it means something real
The Black fucking Flag life of pain and torment

BROKEN

by Bradford Middleton

There is broken glass all over the street

Whilst there are broken dreams all over this town
Due to the broken promises from those who are in control
Those who’ve never had it hard and made it to the top
Simply because of their old school ties

All I’ve got is my minimum wage

But I don’t even deserve that they will say
All they want are obedient serfs
To do as they are told and do all the work
But why should we when all we get is no thanks at all

Last Resort

by Bradford Middleton

Brighton was the last resort after London city

And now I’m trapped in this town of ill-repute
In the hotel of Last Resort

A place where the partying neighbours, random drunks

And the incessant wailing of the fire alarm do their best
To ensure the impossibility of a good night’s sleep

This is driving me inextricably to the madhouse yet

I don’t understand why I love it so much and it feels like home
More than any other place I’ve lived alone

A place I can watch the dust blow forward and the dust

Blow back a place I call home throughout which
We end up getting savagely attacked by the wind

Such a savage storm would have some proclaiming

I wander lonely as a cloud but all I can say is
Like fuck I do all I want is to be at home

LOVE IS DEAD

by Bradford Middleton

Love is dead or
At least that’s what my heart says
Never shall it feel the joy of
That first pulsating kiss or
That first furtive look across a room
When the eyes suddenly meet
And all you want to do is talk
Talk, drink, eat and fuck
If you get lucky enough
More than likely it’ll be in a bar and
I would have misread the signals
Ill stumble over to a barrage of laughs
And a torrent of abuse

Then again what if she says hi
What could happen then?
We sit and chat about the stuff we love
The great books, the great music we cherish so much
As we drink our drink our ever so plentiful drink
We talk and talk until closing time
When we stagger out into the night air
Swapping phone numbers before continuing home
Maybe love ain’t dead after all!