KitKat KitKat KitKat

From my time in Berlin during the summer of 2008 … when the Kit Kat club was a lot raunchier than it is now.

I almost blush to remember the shenanigans going on there when I visited … in the interest of cultural observation … three times.

This is the poem I wrote combining my fuzzy memories …

Kit Kat Kit Kat Kit Kat!

Kaleidoscope of psychedelia and pathos
Pinging silent through the sadness and madness

Trancing to the dance

Patterns slowly emerging
Over a timeless evening

Behaviours appear
Superficial party blur

Off-chops maiden lost to another planet
Wispily draped in satin and stars
Prey to the ancient goat
Who had her with his socks on

The public sex show couple
Same time every week
Ignored by most of the crowd
Who came for the beat and the heat

A couple of greybeard wankers
Drifting naked loony and alone
Tolerated yet marginalised by all
In a subliminal shimmering waltz

Clusters of risqué Blondies clutching purses

(So-o-o many blondes!)

Clinging to their group and smoking nervously
Eyeing bulging tattoos on sullen muscle Marys
Trying to guess their sexual bent

Lovely young bodies
Boldly pulsing bosoms and bums
Pumping arms and legs awhirl
Primitive rhythms spinning sound

Shock of daylight at the crack of noon
Fluorescent cave is dimming
Couches in great favour
Energies chilling down

Time for taxi hailing
And glasses for the sun

Ode to the nipple

A couple of years ago a friend set up a night of burlesque and cabaret to raise funds to support a friend with breast cancer.
She asked me to write and perform a poem on the topic … an ode to the nipple.

This is what I came up with …

It is the first thing that we seek
Whence from the womb we peek.
Blinking from our nine month nap
We blindly grope towards the tap.

Fount of Mother’s nourishing milk
Providing lifeblood smooth as silk.
While we feed as innocent tots
We stroke and grasp it lots and lots.

Alas the time one day arrives
When of its joy we are deprived.
Growing up has many woes
Worst of which is “Nipple Closed”

So it’s no wonder as we age
Focus on nipples is all the rage.
Man or woman, worst or best,
We love the feel and taste of breast.

I leave you while you drink your tipple
Trying to avoid the obvious rhyme.
That will make your giggles ripple
Through this room at party time.

When we all had hair

Out of a stony breakfast conversation with some new German friends, this poem eventually made it to the light of day.

When we all had hair
Our souls were younger
Drugs were stronger
Days were longer
We thought we could change the world

When we all had hair
Women had hair all over
Equal rights for armpits
Eyebrows, legs and bushes
So we had beards and silly sideburns
Afros and bad moustaches

We believed in what we stood for
And we marched for our beliefs
We justified not working
And smoking dope all day
By discovering corporate criminals
With politicians in their pay

Hair was the real liberation
To rebel by growing it long
Barbers went out of business
Clippers were for skinheads
Scissors for chopping mull

When we all had hair
Our souls were younger
We lasted longer
Fed on hunger
We made loving all day long

Now our heads are balder
But our souls are bolder
If hearts are stronger
And minds stay younger
We chillin’ baldy Rastas
Still keep dancing beyond dawn