<![CDATA[Mike Jenkins - Welsh Poet & Author - Mike's Blog]]>Thu, 26 Nov 2015 04:27:31 -0800Weebly<![CDATA[NO  WEATHER]]>Wed, 25 Nov 2015 12:05:00 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/no-weather
​We aven ad no weather this summer,
it’s bin rain, rain an more rain.
Where’s the bus? I complained
t the Council , they sayd  it woz on’y me.
Bin t Marks yet? Food All’s brilliant,
but the whool town’s run down.
What appened in Paris wuz  beyond!
It’s all them refugees, see….
it’s bound t be, they come over yer
but arf o them are gee-addies.
An tha woman welcomin  them in Germany,
yew think they’d  won the war!
Personally, I carn stand the Germans.
No sign of-a bus. There’s snow on-a way.
<![CDATA[WAYNE-O PIJIN'S DECLARATION TO HIS FOLLOWERS]]>Mon, 23 Nov 2015 14:54:42 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/wayne-o-pijins-declaration-to-his-followers
Wayne-O Pijin parading past the Polish shop, after addressing followers at Lucy Thomas shrine
     Friends, No-Wings and Pijins, cease your coo-ings and listen!
   I have given you the Coo-coo-operative Party and now I give you pijinism/ pijiniaeth.
   Yes, let us be bi-lingual, after all we have shat upon the 'siaradwyr Cymraeg' with equal relish over the years.
   Now it is my duty to warn you!
   There are serious threats to my status as a demi-god.
   This realisation came about when I tried landing on a bin down town and found it had been spiked.
   Yes, would you believe it, the authorities do not embrace our beloved 'pijiniaeth' and are even putting these deadly devices on common bins.
   I knew immediately that this was all related to a new and insidious personality cult which is creeping across the country from England.
   I first came across this whilst reading a stray chip paper ( yes, we still use them sometimes in Merthyr).
   On it was an article by my favourite political coo-mentator Frankie Boyle, Scotsman and lover of pigeons.
   As I read it I became very concerned.
   He described a No-Wings called Jeremy Caw-bin ( think that's how you say it ) who was addressing his first party conference as leader.
   Boyle specifically said that this Caw-bin was a 'pigeon in a suit' and I knew, straight away, he was a traitor.
   He can't deceive me, good followers.
   Whether he is an over-sized crow or conniving pigeon, I'm certain the lethal bin is all part of his plot to destroy pijinism.
   Traitors are now everywhere and we will have to deal with them in the traditional manner of 'mass pecking', 'guano burying' and 'knockout dive-bombing'.
   Even my former ally and once trusted disciple Bazza Woodpijin has turned against us and abandoned the faith.
   I have decreed a 'chipwa' ( our equivalent of a 'fatwa') against him.
   He has mocked our faith with his frivolous and blasphemous chanting of ' Om Mangy Pijin Hum'.
   My informants tell me he has begun to set up his own sub-cult in the Black Wood (the name signifies everything about it).
   If any of you catch sight of him near Lucy Thomas shrine or the hallowed Food Cloisters in town, then you know what to do.
  I have heard that his few followers waste their time drinking all manner of noxious brews made from tincture of sausage roll and even cannibalistic pigeon pie.   
   Trusted Pijinites, now's the time to show your allegiance to the one true guru, who happens to be myself (but could easily be you).
   Remember, I'm not here to preach, but to show you a way that will change your lives forever.
   There will be no more stress from being chased by dogs or mini No-Wings.
There will be so much more than the Great Pasty of Beyond.
   Pijic flying is a state of no-mind.
   Caw-bin is a charlatan who preaches a better world , yet can deliver nothing.
   Bazza of the Black Wood can only give you a bad head when you wake up in roof guttering in the morning.
   No, seize the moment and direct the fury of your beaks and droppings towards enemies as dangerous as seagulls.
   We must protect this precious gift........ which I have now written up as a self-help manual '49 Steps To Flying Without Wings' (Pijin Press), available at all good bookshops ready for Christmas.

                                       THE  CAW-BIN

This is not a hedgehog
or a porcupine
on the run down town.

More like a Medieval
torture device
to skewer us pigeons.

Soon they'll be everywhere,
spiky benches
spiky railings.

It's the fault
of false doctrine,
bird disguised as No-Wing.

They want us on kebabs,
they want us pinned -
I blame that Caw-bin!

<![CDATA[IN  IRISH  MODE]]>Thu, 12 Nov 2015 16:11:54 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/in-irish-mode
W.B.Yeats - his 'Easter 1916' is still contentious
   This time of year my family are in Irish mode.
   Or, more specifically, a northern Irish republican one.
   Hallowe'en has always been the main celebration and Guy Fawkes shunned.
   Apart from the fact he was a Catholic, there's the history of the 'wee six' itself, where the Loyalists have traditionally built huge bonfires on which they've burnt effigies of prominent republicans and numerous Irish flags.
  It's not just the Battle of the Boyne which is a cause for triumphalism. 
  My response to Remembrance Day as a committed Welsh socialist republican is akin to that of my wife and her Belfast background.
  How can you possibly glorify a military who have oppressed and murdered your own people?
   On the streets of  Merthyr, Llanelli and Newport just as on Bloody Sunday in Derry, the British armed forces have been used as an instrument of colonial brutality against working-class struggles.
   Like Irish republicans I can never wear a red poppy, which only mourns the military dead , not the civilians or freedom-fighters.
  At this contentious time, I've been involved in workshops and a reading culminating in an event at Redhouse, Merthyr , where the Irish Ambassador Daniel Mulhall spoke about W.B.Yeats on the commemoration of 150 years since his birth.
   My workshops with a creative writing group in Treharris focused on Yeats' famous poem 'Easter 1916' and I'm carried by its power and emotion even though I don't agree with its sentiments.
   The group went on to write individual poems about personal 'risings' and several group poems. They voted on the best one, which one of them read out on the night and which was also exhibited at Redhouse -

                                 HOPE  RISING
We rise up, rare fountain of hope
from the depths of our inner misery
reaching to the stars and beyond
the eternal barrier of fate.
But there is always a fall
after a rising call,
the people want to be heard
above the shouts and battle cries.

   The Ambassador spoke in some detail about 'Easter 1916' and its affect on Irish consciousness.
   Yeats' disgust at the revolutionary violence is evident and he obviously believed that Home Rule could've been achieved without resorting to rebellion.
  What Yeats didn't fully address were the wider implications of the Rising : the first real challenge by any of its colonies to the British Empire.
   Daniel Mulhall didn't deal with that either.
   Yeats barely implied the callous , totalitarian measures taken by the British Gov. , namely the execution of 15 of the leaders, among whom were his friends. 
   His horror was aimed at revolution and not state terror, and this tells you a lot about his politics.
   Ambassador Mulhall raised the question of how Ireland should celebrate the centenary of the Rising next year. His conclusion was, as an act of remembrance.
   Yet, looking at contemporary Ireland there are three crucial areas which remain unresolved and which the Rising can throw light upon.
   Firstly, there's the Gaelic language, whose main champion Padraig Pearse was one of those executed.
   Ironically, the main impetus towards it has come in recent history from Provisional IRA prisoners in the Maze and Sinn Fein remains the only party really committed to a bi-lingual Ireland.
   Secondly, serious inequalities exist within Irish society in terms of wealth and expectation.
   Partition and the victory of the Free Staters in the ensuing Civil War brought two parties, both capitalist, emerging out of that conflict. The Irish working-class has been oppressed by its own countrymen in businesses and companies.
   Like Britain, it has been vulnerable to the changes of boom and bust, but the latter never saw a redistribution of wealth.
   James Connolly was the principal voice of socialist republicanism in the Rising and his execution in 1916 meant that Ireland lost its most significant figure.
  Connolly was also an avowed internationalist and member of the IWW, and realised that worker control should not be confined to his country
   The third unresolved matter is the fact that Ireland is not independent, simply because Britain still controls n. Ireland.
   Connolly and others like him would surely never have given in to Lloyd George's threats of war in the way Michael Collins did.
   I'm pretty sure he would not have accepted the partition of Ireland against the democratic wishes of the majority : in 1918 Sinn Fein won an outright majority.
   Yeats mourned his friends 'As a mother names her child', but not the ideals they cherished.
   He was a staunch Anglophone, who didn't sympathize with Pearse's vision of  a Gaelic-speaking nation and he definitely had little time for Connolly's revolutionary socialism.
   What Ireland should be confronting next year are these fundamental issues, all connected to the Rising.
   It's fitting that Ireland embraces its citizens from all traditions : poets Longley, Yeats and Mahon and great singer-songwriters like Van Morrison.
   The narrow Catholic state has gradually changed and is still changing.
   Loyalists in the north should also look to their own culture and see how it has engaged with where it lives and not just the battles it has won.
   The Easter Rising began something which has still  not ended, despite the relative peace and calm.
   Connolly's socialism and Pearse's beloved Gaelic should belong to everyone, no matter their beliefs.

   ( I wrote this poem about a recent visit to Galway City) :-

                          RAINBOW FLAG SAILING

Sailing above the Spanish Arch
is the rainbow flag,
so soon after the loud,proud
'Yes!' of more than enough.

He strides towards Quay Street,
lipstick shining , face-studs
and multi-coloured clothing
as if fashioned from that banner.

His ship's just landed
and hardly a head turns
as he joins the babble of tongues
lapping at stalls and shops.

He's not come from another country,
but one long hidden :
to his tales of rocks and wrecks
the landlocked finally listen. 
<![CDATA[After 36 years - how has Merthyr changed?]]>Thu, 05 Nov 2015 15:27:16 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/after-36-years-how-has-merthyr-changed
Retail rules the skyline

   Just when I think I've cracked it, that's when I'm thrown!
   I'm walking home from the shop and here comes a rotund fella in dirty trackies and frayed trainers leading a pony down the hill.
  He rules the road and cars give him a wide berth.
  I nod over to him  and he announces - ' Yewwhezullezzz!'
  I've lived in Merthyr for 36 years, don't speak in the accent yet write in it. I couldn't fathom what he was on about.
   When me and my wife first moved here we actually thought most people were speaking Welsh.  Ironically, on the John's Travel buses up to Heolgerrig  (which are still going) most people were at that time.
   It was going to Newport last Sunday got me thinking about Merthyr : had it improved or deteriorated over those years?
   Apart from a long  Muslim peace demo - with men and women  strictly segregated - Newport was as dead as Merthyr centre on a Sunday....except for a  few skateboarders and stray alkies .
  The main  centre of activity was the large building site , trying to  get the shopping complex ready for opening this week.
  As my friend and fellow  poet Jonathan  Edwards said   -  '  To turn Newport into  the same place as everywhere.'
   Certainly it  reminded me of many towns in the Valleys : rundown, closed down and full of Pound and Charity Shops and moneylenders.
   It's  odd  how the demise of the Valleys after coal, iron and  manufacturing went away, is  blamed  primarily  on location  and  lack of investment in infrastructure.
    Yet Newport's dilapidation confounds this.  Proximity to  the M4 corridor hasn't brought wealth.
   Manufacturing has been largely replaced by the retail sector, just as Merthyr's retail parks drain the town centre of business.
    It is the whole of Wales (with the possible exception of the capital) which is still suffering from economic depression.
   Capitalism has failed us, as has the British state.
   Massive hand-outs to multi-nationals followed the decline of  heavy industries and our manufacturing base.
  These, in turn, moved elsewhere in the world in search of cheaper labour.
  Successive Labour governments in Cardiff Bay have failed to  provide any alternatives. constantly seeking  outside investment rather than deploying local skills.
  Tower Colliery was a model for what could've been achieved everywhere, but workers' co-operatives have had very little encouragement.
   Speaking from experience, we tried to set up a publishing co-op a few years back, but simply could not raise enough finance to match a grant. Advice was plentiful , but financial support virtually impossible.
​   Co-operatives need to be given maximum backing to  flourish and build eco-friendly housing  and renovate run-down properties, recycle furniture ,  provide allotment-grown food to needy communities and the many other things that would be sustainable and invaluable.
   When we first came here, we often went to  factory shops : a toy factory, two clothes factories and OP chocolates all within easy reach. 
   Only the latter is left.
   The next factory to open here will be making armoured vehicles on the site of the Linde fork-lift truck plant.
  As with the meat factory and opencast mine  we have accepted jobs whatever the costs  to animal and human life and to the environment.
   It's nothing new : think  of the dangers of ironworks and mines.
   36   years ago Merthyr certainly had bands and writers.
  In fact , Merthyr Writers' Circle managed to  get my first book in dialect 'Graffiti Narratives' banned from Smith's because of its 'language'!
   Now the town is a cultural hub, with highly talented rock groups, singer-songwriters and artists a-plenty.
   Yet all this is constantly under threat from austerity measures and only  recently our Open Mic poetry nights  have had all finance withdrawn, so it  feels like over a decade of meetings and visits by well-known writers from Gillian Clarke to Owen Sheers will come to an end.
   However, we are determined  to carry on and raise enough money to pay writers' expenses.
   It's not ideal. Writers should be paid a proper fee and the need for a Welsh Writers' Union once again is paramount.
  Despite the rise of UKIP and their bigoted culture of blame, Merthyr still retains the spirit of 1831. We demand 'caws' as well as 'bara', more than just the flung crumbs.


I ewsed t work with  video machines
up  Irwin,  till ey closed
tha  factree down.

An then, on-a lines
makin desks an filin cabinets
some robots coulda done.

I lost ev'rythin arfta :
wife, job an  ome ;
darkness like no other.

At las I'm comin up agen,
startin t breathe pewer air  :
there's a new factree openin.

I don'  wanna do it.
makin armoured cars
f fewture bloody wars.

I marched the streets b'fore
'gainst  Iraq,  Afghanistan an Gaza.
I don' take it, my  benefit disappears.

Orready I'm plannin  t scheme :
a wire yer, a loose connection.
Sabotage,  s  nobuddy knows.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   
<![CDATA[WEBS]]>Mon, 02 Nov 2015 12:59:28 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/webs

At the screen again,
a one finger slide
and the globe is mine

messaging and sharing ,
like, poke, comment -
I make the lines

from site to site
they stretch out -
forceful, unseen

                                            in morning's foggy dew
                                            with sun simmering low,
                                            everywhere seen anew

                                            on garage door, washing line,
                                            garden bushes, fences, walls -
                                            the finery of webs

                                            danger & wonder in single threads -
                                            master spider, fly caught
                                            like buzzard-barbs on rabbit

                       always one touch away -
                       both spinner and prey.               
<![CDATA[POLITICAL LOGOS : WHY NOT PARROTS & DRAGONS' EGGS?]]>Tue, 27 Oct 2015 12:33:35 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/political-logos-why-not-parrots-dragons-eggs

   It all began while watching the conference of the appallingly callous party, now with a human face ( I use the word 'human' liberally!).
   They have occupied the middle ground of  politics , even if it resembles     a No-Man's-Land strewn with the abandoned poor and refugees from wars they actually began.
   In the background is the large Conservative logo and, the more I look at it, the more it resembles certain things.
   They've painted the green English oak ( not the Welsh druidic one)        with the Union Jack :a tree metamorphosed into an imperial flag.
   Under Thatcher they had the so-called 'torch of freedom', an arm taken from the Statue of Liberty : appropriate when you consider how we were a base for US cruise missiles and how our neo-liberalism aped that of Reagan.
   The Union Jack is, of course, the flag of the only true form of Brit patriotism left in these isles, namely the n.Ireland Loyalists, and the fact that the oak's shape is also that of n. Ireland can't be mere coincidence.
  I'd suggest a more suitable logo, the Japanese Knotweed : a plant which is the most invasive in the world and strangles everything else around it.
   The Labour leader and those close to him may well be singing the Red Flag again, but their conference was anything but the open debate promised.
   Where were the honest exchanges about Trident, the monarchy and the bombing of Syria?
   To be frank, if they'd really argued these through the outcome of the week would've been the splitting of one party into two!
   The red rose logo may have been a Blairite dream in its escape from socialism, but it was apparently invented by Neil Kinnock as part of his rebranding process.
   Confusingly, it's also the badge of the English rugby team and Lancashire cricket club.
   Will the red flag be revived under Corbyn?
   Here in Cymru, Carwyn Jones is happy to ignore Corbyn's ideas, turning 'clear red water' into the murky blue Severn estuary.
   Perhaps Welsh Labour need to adopt their own logo : how about Carwyn's decidedly pink face superimposed on a red balloon?
   The Greens claim wide-ranging credentials with their globe emanating white flames.
   Perhaps an international party should respect smaller nations more, and cease to treat Cymru as a 'region'?
   Their conference came and went with little media coverage and their best leader is still Caroline Lucas, who no longer holds that post.
   Their politics is as red as Corbyn's, yet there's no sign of that on the logo.
  So I'd suggest they use Mars rather than our planet, as we'll all have to escape there if we carry on destroying the earth at this rate.
  Predictably, UKIP are now blaming everything on the EU rather than just immigration.
   This is largely due to the public sympathy for migrants and especially refugees.
  Their logo is purple (based on Farage's face when he  lost the election?) and their symbol the pound.
   Brit identity embodied in a unit of currency yet......are the French any less so because they use the Euro?
   A more apt image would be a wall topped with razor wire, though I've no argument with purple : the colour of bruising.
   Plaid Cymru's conference consisted mostly of reiterating - ' When we are in government......' as if repeating it will make it happen.
   Many in Plaid claim they're socialist, but if that's the case then where were their policies to create  a true NHS ( no private consultancies) and comprehensive education ( no private schools); above all , where were plans for co-operatives all over the country?
   The logo's based on the Welsh poppy ( y pabi melyn) , which no-one's heard of or even associates with Cymru!   
   It closely resembles BP's logo, but the company have never sued.
   Their previous logo was preferable, the Triban with its three green triangles each with a deconstructed dragon on , representing the three main peaks of Wales.
   Perhaps it was dispensed with  to broaden appeal away from mathematical mountaineers into mythology.
   A more suitable logo would be a dragon's egg, as they're still waiting to be born into any form and substance.
   Outside the Welsh context, I quite like the SNP logo as it reminds me of those metal puzzles I had in my Christmas stocking as a kid.
   I'd no idea it meant a combination of thistle and saltire; at least it's simple, even if it appears to have nothing to do with Scotland.
  Like the Tories, the LibDems conference tried to occupy the middle ground, to appeal to disaffected Labourites.
   Funny that, for a party who'd just shared a government which had penalised the poor ,disabled and students in particular, creating a country where Food Banks grew like Pound Stores.
   Their soaring yellow 'bird of liberty' is actually quite a catching logo , but I'd still replace it with a puke-coloured parrot (which repeats the Tories, like Clegg did for Cameron).

   I have an oak in my garden. The hillside  out the back is covered in them.
   They once dominated the ancient forest land.
   If there were a Union of United Oak Trees I think they'd take the Tories to court immediately.   

I will take it down
from their political banners :
shape of an enormous brain
branded with the Union Jack,
or an Ulsterman's thought-bubble.
I shall place it again
in the wild fields surrounding
so the trunk will be bent
to ways of wind and stream
and, if you listen carefully,
you'll hear the druids chanting.
I will plant it back
where squirrels and wood pigeons
can feed off its acorns,
where tree-creepers and nuthatches
skitter along  moss-covered bark
picking for tiny insects.
I'll tell them they don't own it ;
nor the farmer with deeds
or horses who rub against it,
children suspended on branches,
or me, in my loftiness.
I will bring it back, and leave it.
<![CDATA[AUTUMN   HAIKU]]>Thu, 22 Oct 2015 13:17:39 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/autumn-haiku

Moorland's yellowing
parchment of the ancient bards :
druid oaks gaze down.


Squirrel on the wall,
his Spiderman impressions ;
hides map of acorns.


Spikes of many reeds
recall the hedgehogs long gone :
vanished, no headlines.


Amber, brown, orange,
all the colours of dying ;
a wondrous leaving.


A rare and shy jay,
the last wild flowers reaching
to swallow-seek sun.


From the east and west,
high and low, between the light
and cloud......it will come!

<![CDATA[LAS   BUS   OME          ]]>Mon, 19 Oct 2015 11:06:00 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/las-bus-ome

'Wagons roll, drive!
Wagons roll!'

It's-a las bus ome :
cans poppin,
couples in wrestlin olds,
man out of it an snorin,
others jokin on theyer phones.

Strong smell from-a back,
a cloud o perfumed smoke
driftin down the aisle
an the driver starts t larf
all on is own accord.

As if we're floatin
up the A470,
up in-a clouds
over Aberfan an Troedyrhiw
jest like them ang-gliders.

It's-a las bus ome
an lucky nobuddy's on-a roads
coz-a driver's got this grin
like an Allowe'en mask,
is mind's a candle flick'rin.

<![CDATA[SPELLING CYMRU WITH A 'Q']]>Fri, 16 Oct 2015 11:29:06 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/spelling-cymru-with-a-q
The Barry Horns at the back of the Canton Stand

     In  a Merthyr pub after the Bosnia v. Wales football game......
- It's bloody incredible!
- Yeah, it is! We lose 2-0  an the players 're celebratin!
- I know yew're an egg-chaser, but I thought even yew would get it.
- Ow d'yew mean?
- Well, Cyprus beat Israel didn 'ey? Tha's why!
- Oh, so ower players all ad money on Cyprus an are celebratin theyer winnins?
- Nah, we qualify f'r -a Euros coz nobuddy cun catch us.....first time f'r-a major tournament since 1957 World Cup when we lost t Brazil in-a Quarter Finals. The Big Q at las!
- Ow 're Israel in-a Euros anyway? Int they in-a Middle East? Tell yew wha, rugby's much easier t follow.
 - Aye, yew jest wait f'r-a ref t blow is whistle an everyone gazes up at-a big screen action replay!

   As Gareth Bale said , 'I've never celebrated so much after losing!'
   Looking back we deserved a draw from the Bosnia game, but what's important is the future and the Finals.
   Last Tuesday, the Andorra match was supposed to be one huge party.
   Qualification has been a superb achievement, but when we failed to score against  a team of butchers, bakers and teachers all that engineered atmosphere couldn't create the necessary excitement. 
   Even the fans began to chant for players not even on the pitch : Ledley and Robson- Kanu.
   Once Ramsey had got the first goal everything turned to party mode and the glitter-bombs, red carpet and champagne afterwards were outdone by the players dancing, led by Ledley's beard.
  We were off to France and everyone was trying to piece together bits of school French , as we'll need to explain things like we're not part of England and the name of our country is actually Cymru.
   Most will give up and settle for I'd like four beers please.
We'll be in a table alongside several top teams : could be Spain and Italy, or England and Russia.
   But as we proved when beating Belgium 1-0 at home, we play better against the quality teams. It suits our game of defending deep and playing on the break, using the pace of Bale and guile of Rambo.
  Our defence is as good as any and , in Ashley Williams, we possess one of the best centre-backs around today.
  I bet the Stoke defender Ryan Shawcross (who went to school in Wales) is regretting not opting for us, as he doesn't get a look in for England.
   Critics call us 'Bales', yet ignore the qualities of both our defence and midfield, where the likes of Ledley, Allen and Ramsey are covered by King, Edwards, Jonny Williams and many others.
  Our biggest weakness is up front and Vokes was a major disappointment v. Andorra. For him to be effective we probably need to play a winger like Cotterill and that's an option against weaker sides.
   While rugby has become a branch of the English monarchy with Tair Pluen, Ich Dien, Wills a so-called fan and the Principality  Stadium, the FAW have ensured that football has become thoroughly bi-lingual.
   The front of CCFC stadium epitomised this, with large pictures on both sides : one of the players hugging after a goal for WALES and the other with Aaron Ramsey in slide- celebration for CYMRU. 
   No longer do we have players looking like John Redwood singing Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau and the fans have embraced our national anthem to the extent that it often bursts out spontaneously during games.
   From north, south, east and west they come to support Cymru: a truly national game. 

                            LIKE  WATER  AFTER  A  DROUGHT

In 1958, while Wales were doing it in Sweden
I was hurtling round in shorts and knitted socks
on Heol Nanteos, kicking  a ball for the first time.

Only later did I play in boots on the Rec,
hand-me-downs from my rugby brother,
with toe caps of tin and nailed-in studs.

Playing was sheer agony and pleasure :
those studs cut into my soles, but I remember
tackling the big boys without fear even then.

We'd have running races and even fling
the egg sometimes, but my footie-love
was born on that street sure as Brazilian beaches.

Now I stand in red and flanked by daughters,
imagining myself a Rambo, Bale or Williams,
chanting with drums and horns as we beat Andorra.

I've witnessed every disappointment over years :
the hand ball, near misses and the pen ;
like water after drought, I'll drink again and again. 

<![CDATA[PIJIN TO  STAND IN ASSEMBLY ELECTION]]>Fri, 09 Oct 2015 10:59:57 GMThttp://www.mikejenkins.net/mikes-blog/pijin-to-stand-in-assembly-election
Wayne -O Pijin at the holy shrine, Lucy Thomas Fountain

   At a sparsely attended Press Conference at the holy shrine of Lucy Thomas Fountain, bottom of High St., Merthyr, former politician  and now religious leader Wayne-O Pijin was holding forth.
   Wayne-O declared his intention to stand in next year's Assembly election as a candidate for the Pijic Flying Party.
   'Pijic Flying is a way of life. It's open to anyone who's willing to learn and it will change everything', he explained, whilst picking  at a stray piece of Peter's pie.
   'Once you become one with death, you become one with life....you get your priorities right. I am willing to embrace anyone now ( with the exception of seagulls and their agents).'
   I asked him to explain this  prejudice when he maintained the unifying force of Pijinism.
   ' Seagulls are beyond the pale! They are the ISIS of the bird world ,as far as we're concerned. They're a threat  to our very existence and they've hired agents to infiltrate the Food Cloisters (Merthyr bus station).'
   I then enquired who these agents were.
   'They descend on the Tubes in flocks or sometimes pairs. Their plumage may not be white, but they do squawk a lot.  I believe they are called More-mans, Fundy-mentals and Jovies by you No-Wings. They often have strange calls like - Will ya take a wee gospel text?'
   I asked him to elaborate on his election  campaign.
   'If Pijic Flying really takes off (pardon the pun!), then I envisage Lucy Thomas Fountain becoming a place of pilgrimage for thousands, as we're planning on standing throughout Wales.
   This will boost the town's economy , with many converted No-Wings visiting the so-called Cafe Quarter, which has a serious lack of actual cafes....it might become an actual Cafe Quarter as a result.
  This town could become the world centre of Pijic Flying in time.
  It would also become the cleanest, most litter-free place in the country with all the descending pigeons tackling every stray chip or piece of pasty.'
  I wanted to find out what made his party different from the others.
  'Well, imagine a radio. You're tuning into all these stations with music and talk and then suddenly you come across  a broadcast that's not tunes or natter or even constant coo-ing. It's a sound like no other and it seems to explain everything, without giving any kind of formula. Once you find that broadcast you'll want no other.....that is the pirate radio station Radio Pijin going out every moment of every day, music of the universe called 'Flying Without Wings'.
   Just a simple cross next May will guarantee a host of pigeons in Cardiff Bay.....no longer AMs fixated on computer screens, but ones preaching the connection between without and within.
   Is that clear?'

   This is a poem written by his campaign manager Al-Wings Jones.

                                    PIJIC  FLYING

You can fly without wings
you can fly without the sky

you can become pijinified
experience a journey inside

a vote will change you
and so the world too

feather your brains
plume your imaginations

become one with your inner Wayne
-O Pijin, the ultimate Guru!