Greek by Ian Pindar

Left alone, you grow from experience
A Black Beard
A black beard and a head teeming with ideas
Some of them really weird
But hardly unique;
Entertained long ago by a Greek
Even the beard

Clog

Is it true
That’s not a shoe?’
That’s right, it is a clog.

‘Is it true
That this non-shoe
Is not made
From leather nor suede?’
That’s right, it’s from a log

It is true
That all you do
To make this non-shoe
Is nail a c onto a log
And there you have yourself a clog.

'Is it true
You can nail water?'
Asked my confused daughter.
A ‘c’ is a ‘c’ but not the sea,
Do you see?
'I don’t, but I s'pose I oughta'.

Lick

I am sure that you would find
A joke engraved upon my spine
If you were to
Lick, lick
Lick, lick
Lick me like a lollipop

Loyal

Your mind sparkles like no other
I can see your education isn't taught
Tell me, where have you come from?
I've never met someone like you before

Maybe its this that makes you good looking
But the combination sure is deadly
And from what you say
You can come away
And spend your life with me

But

I'm loyal to a fault. Baby
Even when its no good for me
And although I was useless at algebra
I'm loyal to the nth degree

I'm loyal to a fault. Baby
It'll go on my headstone, you see
Its not what you want to hear right now but
I'm loyal to a fault. Baby

MP3

I wanna see the peeling reminder
Of how much I spent;
Seven hours toil meant
I'll never discard that Teenage Fanclub LP
Even if it never got on with me.

Or the biro'd second-hand price indented,
Telling tales of Oxfam, Ealing
The time spent healing
From a heavy night before
And in refuge from domestic war.

I wanna run my finger over the soft tear in the sleeve
Caused by my rage
In a more passionate age
And because I never wanted to go to that party in the first place.

The scribbles of a lost friend discoloured by time
The song titles alone
Evoke feelings unknown
Memories you can't get
Without a time-capsule cassette

It makes no sense
So I'm told
By those desperate not to be seen to be old
Well you can keep yer mp3
You can stick it
'Til I can kick it like my vinyl
'Til I can scratch it like a CD
You can keep your mp3
I like my C90, 60 & 30
I wanna see the cover
Or as I say, artwork
I wanna search with my thumbs
Not scroll through a database
That can be organised with one click
But never in a way that satisfies the soul

There's nothing wrong with a bit of old
A bit of slow
A bit of holding the physical
To help you contemplate
These abstract noises that mean nothing and everything.