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Category Archives: Music

The Agricultural Engineer

I have a story in an old shoe box
and I leave it to spin out
all the time

A heart ache framed in that trusty old-schooled ink and it bleeds
like a bruise
on tattooed thighs

I’m stood with a blush of pink insincerity
and i find that I cannot tell a lie

You see, like a bird
like a falcon way up high
and you breathe like a new born
swimming child

You teach
with the wisdom of an ancient rested soul
and I want to be near you all the time

There’s a key in the garden where you fall asleep at night
there’s a lock hidden there under
the chime

But the wind is howling haunted
and it leaves you feeling blind
and you can’t
remember how to tell the time

It’s written in the kitchen, right there underneath the clock
There’s a sink full of truths I can’t deny

But you walk through the hall in those dirty, old work boots
leaving marks on my floor and on my life

A sidewards smile holds a cigarette, alight

The dirty, honest dishes
left behind


Guitar Tuition

To the Frolicking Folk!

Just wanted to give anyone who might be trying to teach themselves to play the guitar, the opportunity of some free guidance.

I’m involved in something called The National Guitar Academy. I’m not pitching anything here in the hope of making money – I won’t make a penny. It’s just something I’m passionate about and love that there is so much free (decent,helpful) content, encouraging people to play.

I won’t bang on about it too much…but there are links below, if you are wanting to take up learning or need a bit of help. 

I’m currently running the FB page, so I can be found over there – but there is no link between NGA and G&T, so I’d be grateful if both can be kept seperate.

Anyhoo…it’s founded by a wonderful teacher and I really rate his methods. That’s all I got.

Maybe I’ll see your face on the page, if not I’ll also be knocking about here. (Home is where the heart is, and all that)



Still in Love with the musings of Frank Turner


This Will Make You Fall In Love

I was given this, oh…some time ago now. And for multiple reasons, it’s remained very special to me.
I invite you to share my love of James Yorkston and this piece of, well…beauty. You’ll see what I mean within seconds of it beginning to play.
So wonderful. So perfectly aligned with the images that you will see.
Fall in love. Happy Sunday, from G&T.

The Spotlight.

His saliva starts the painful
through the Sahara,
As he swallows.

It’s his time.

He stands behind the curtain,
Frees his hands
of awkward

He makes a fist and bites it.

He can hear them.
Their chatter
to a drone.

They’re waiting.
Desperation in

He can smell it. Taste it.

For he is their Mecca,
Their chosen God of worship.
He belongs to them.

Not the sickness, though.

The lingering sickness
that petrifies his will,
Is his
and his alone.

It never leaves his side,
Never falters.
Constant in its entirety
and yet
always new.

The curtains slide,
Stealing his shield,
Taking his darkness
with them.

And as he is blinded by
the spotlight
and the sporadic flashing

He takes a moment to teach
his lungs.
To find his heart and make it beat again.
To spawn an ego of epic proportions.


He somehow sets his fingers over
the strings,
Closes his eyes.

He strums the chord.

Makes the sound
that awakens
the beast.

It stirs, oh how it stirs.

A sea of faceless screams
Acknowledge him,
Encourage him.

Power him.

And so
he stands right there,
Glowing in the spotlight,
Just like before,

Shooting stars.