In an extraordinary development this week, leader of the Pijic Flying Party and Satguru of Pijinism Wayne-O Pijin escaped from custody at Merthyr Police Station.
   He is now presumably 'on the wing' in this area after a daring escape.
   It appears from talking to local officers that he got away with the assistance of other birds who were imprisoned. 
   'There was a serious disturbance in the cages,' explained PC Hopkins. 'My colleague PC Howells went into the cage of Arty the seagull believing that I was trapped inside and being set upon.
   It transpired that Woody the mynah bird had successfully imitated my voice.
   When inside this cage, PC Howells was subject to a serious assault and the aforesaid seagull managed to steal his keys and release almost every single avian criminal!
   So it's not just Wayne-O Pijin we are seeking, but a number of feathered fugitives.
   We will have to stop playing snooker and emerge from our bunker in order to try and capture them.
   They are a danger to the public and we've already had reports of various sightings.
   The seagull has been spotted on the roof of Cardiff Central Station and the mynah bird actually auditioned for Merthyr's Got Talent at the Redhouse, till he was exposed and flew through an open window.
   We have had one reported sighting of Wayne-O Pijin, who we believe was the brains behind this break-out.
   This was reported to us by a Mr D.R. Davies of Winchfawr.'
   An amazing coincidence indeed, as I suspected this was none other than Dai 'The Rhyme' Davies, my friend from down the road.
   Hours later, sitting in his bungalow, Dai assured me that he had phoned the police.
   ' To be honest, Mike, I thought I was suffering from dementia and having hallucinations.
   It's not every day you see a pigeon in your garden wearing a black beret and dark glasses.
   I didn't know whether to contact my GP or what, till I heard a police appeal on the radio.
   After what you told me about him, I never went near this Pijin fella, but I did manage to get a snap of him.
   He looked more like the bloody Bird Maffia to me mun. Little Vlad was very wary and kept his distance and whined.'
   It was good to chat with Dai again and he insisted I try his lentil cawl.
   'Never thought I'd make something like that, but my daughter Deb's a veggie see.'
   He was taken aback when I told him there was a Merthyr song called 'No Lentils in Cawl'.
  ' Well, there bloody are lentils now mun, and they don't half repeat on you, I can tell you. I been experimenting with cuisine....Next time that pigeon shows up I'll be shooting him with more than a camera.....lovely pigeon stew, eh?'
   He explained that his political limericks had been going well and showed me his latest one -

There was a Health Secretary called Hunt
whose views were a total affront ;
Junior Doctors he shat on
and the Unions he spat on,
in fact he was a total c__t.  

   'I wrote a poem about that Wayne-O and all, Mike. You're welcome to display it on your dot-dot machine.
   I must get one some day. Deb spends most of her time on her phone.  Bloody barkin!'

   So, Wayne-O Pijin remains at large and must not be approached by the general public.
   It's feared that his disguise ( beret and dark glasses) signals another change in his chameleon-like character.
   Even his wives, such as Gloria McFly and Rena Dove, deny any knowledge of his whereabouts.
   The sighting in Winchfawr suggests he is still in the Merthyr area and potentially a threat to all No-Wings.


                                         PIGEON ON THE RUN

When he told me he'd interviewed a bird
it was the maddest thing I'd heard
and claimed a pigeon was a religious leader,
I said - 'Wise up, have you seen my feeder?'

But then I saw out the window one day
the weirdest sight you'll ever see :
a pigeon wearing dark glasses and beret,
thought I was going totally loopy.

I'd only drunk a couple of beers
down Spoons before I came home;
then I came over all queer
and took a pill to calm me down.

When I later phoned the cops to explain
they said - 'That's Wayne-O Pijin on the run,
he's escaped from prison mun.
Stay away from him, he's mean.'


by Dai 'The Rhyme' Davies   


   

Dug up stone a skull
memorial to the mines,
hollows below Waun.

*****

They see only bog.
I see wild flower meadow :
seeds of future slow.

*****

After winter rain
the bulbs' leaves already rising,
frost-bitten fingers.

*****

Heddiw, mae'r fran wen
yn byw yn y cymylau ;
ysgwd adenydd. 

*****

Square seat waits for sun,
willow is its aerial :
broadcasting of light.

*****

Under the wild grass
seams thick with stories of past :
welcome them in dreams.

*****

Bydd y mieri
yn aildyfu, y gwreiddiau
mor gryf ag hanes.

*****

Rings of years within
the oak, branches embracing
whatever sky brings.

​

Nodyn  - to bach ar y gair 'fran'

   What separates success (or recognition) from relative anonymity?
   I've blogged about this before especially in relation to the music of singer-songwriter Tom Russell, who veteran Beat poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti rates as the very best around and whose album 'Hotwalker' is one of the most enthralling this century.
   I've recently read two books of poetry which received major awards : Kate Tempest's 'Brand New Ancients' (winner of the Ted Hughes Award) and 'Physical' by Andrew McMillan , which won the Guardian First Book Award.
   On the one hand, it's great to see young poets emerging on the scene with vital things to say ; on the other, I have to say that their work doesn't always inspire.
   Tempest is much stronger on cd, where her couplets lend themselves to an original London rap and although 'Brand New Ancients' is remarkably similar to her album 'Everybody Down', on the page it loses impetus, the rhymes sometimes strain and there are very prosaic passages.
   McMillan's book works much better and his open form perfectly complements the subject-matter of gay relationships. 
   The overriding influence of Thom Gunn is evident and acknowledged.
   What was lost for me was the real sense of other people. The many 'you' characters he addressed did not come alive and , like Tempest, his language does become stodgily prosaic at times.
   While both are by no means bland, I have read other books which are just as deserving of acclaim , but have had only limited praise ; such as Jon Tait's 'Barearse Boy' and our own Phil Knight's 'You're Welcome to Wales!' , the funniest book of poetry I've ever read.
   Attending Open Mic nights gives an insight into grassroots verse and while it is thriving, it can also be straitjacketed by rhyming couplets.
   Pam Ayres and Betjeman have a lot to answer for!
   I know that my friend from 'up the Winch' Dai 'The Rhyme' Davies would disagree and cite Idris Davies and Harri Webb at me endlessly, but most of these versifiers need to read more poetry and better to begin with the likes of McMillan rather than Tempest.
   In poetry, the subject-matter can be a significant factor and McMillan's candid depictions of gay love and Tempest's street cred are highly apt and topical for our times.
   Being cynical, it would probably need a revolution in Cymru to make our poetry more widely appreciated!
   That Merthyr is now the centre of a cultural uprising can be witnessed particularly in venues like The Imp and The Crown : two poles of our High Street, not opposites but hubs.
   Last week I attended the acoustic night at the latter and it was an inspiring evening.
   I was there to support my friend and comrade Jamie Bevan, Welsh language activist and also singer-songwriter, whose set was being filmed for 'Heno' on S4C (to be broadcast on the 19th).
   Jamie's folk music has a traditional feel to it, even when he's singing about wild nights drinking in Merthyr. It's rhythmic and engaging, with catchy choruses.
   Like many performers he produces his own ep's to sell at gigs. Welsh record label Sain haven't signed him up........ yet.
   There was so much talent on display at the Crown, it's hard to do everyone justice, but I'd like to single out a singer-songwriter based in Swansea called Jebbers. who has an ep called 'Run With Wolves' and another on the way.
   Like Jamie, she depends very much on flogging self-produced ep's and on it she's joined by bassist Dai C. Thomas and drummer Phil Hann.
  The ep does not do justice to her wonderful live performance and the production makes her voice sound a little 'thin' at times.
  Listening to her live, the vocals are full and riding the waves, as she does off The Gower so often. In fact, a number of her new songs deal with surfing, but never in the twee Beach Boys way.
   There were many highlights, but outstanding songs were the opening one 'Run With Wolves' and final one , which I think was called 'Paper Man'. 
  Everyone was in awe of her set and saying - 'She'll make it!'
  Yet, there is no guarantee. I have seen poets and singers as good as any prize-winners who have never been signed up.   
   Who you know and being in the right place.......money to bring out your own work........sometimes, just saying the kind of things people want to hear at a particular moment in history......all these can contribute to making it.
   However, I like to make a plea......search for those who dip and rise, somewhere out there, towards the horizon. 


                                           THE  GREAT  UNSIGNED

There are those whose names
are top of every list :
shared, liked and many clicks.

They adorn magazine covers,
are interviewed on Breakfast TV ;
are bought by you and me.

Then, there are countless others
who perform at clubs and open mics,
unknowns who startle and surprise.

Voices and imagery, tunes and tones,
rare as red kites used to be
glimpsed from mountain roads.

They peddle pamphlets and ep's
financed by jobs or families,
their swoop and glide extraordinary.

When disillusionment with the famously bland
is so much sludge in your mind,
remember these, the great unsigned.     

   Very shocking news for the New Year, as leader of the Pijic Flying Party and self-proclaimed Satguru of Pijinism Wayne-O Pijin was arrested on New Year's Day.
   He was taken to Merthyr Police Station (whose location remains a mystery to everyone) and charged with 'Inflightment to violence.'
   This follows on from a series of vicious attacks  by what can only be described as 'psycho-pijins' on New Year's Eve.
   One prostrate drunkard, having a 'quiet kip' in the drain  was set upon by several pigeons  who tried to 'steal my effin kebab'.  
   A stilletoed celebrator  almost lost an eye as she raised a fry to her face and was bombarded by marauding birds.
   I managed to speak to Wayne-O over the phone. I could not find the police station as Google Maps indicated an underground bunker somewhere near the Assembly offices.
   He was incandescent with rage - 'I have been victimised! Pigeons have been deliberately spiked by No-Wings on a regular basis, yet now they're blaming me for  a series of  attacks which I didn't carry out.
   I believe they see my Pijic Flying Party as a political threat. They are playing into the hands of my enemies like Bazza of the Black Wood, who will move his cohorts into town in my absence.
   I am told he has made a pact with the seagulls....that's how low he has stooped!'
   Wayne-O has no legal assistance, as his lawyer Timothy Rich-pickings  is too busy giving counselling to victims of the pijic cult.
   His erstwhile ally Al-Wings Jones is still recovering from serious surgery and  has been seen consorting with rodents by the River Taff.
   Most of Wayne-O's supporters have rejected him for fear of being arrested themselves  and only his several wives have stood by him.
   'I am being left to rot in a cage next to common or garden parrots, budgies, canaries and one mynah bird by the name of Woody.
   Worst of all, there's a seagull called Arty in the next cage who's been arrested for cannibalism.....he actually killed and ate the young of another gull!
   I have had to endure various forms of torture.
   The cops insist on eating chips and gravy and large meat pies in front of me and even threatening to turn me into a pie if I don't stop coo-cooing.'
   However, Merthyr's streets have certainly quietened down since Wayne-O's arrest.
   The rate of serious avian assaults has rapidly decreased and tourists have returned to Lucy Thomas Fountain to wait for the water to rise up again.
   Ballet lessons run by the College Boulevard Dance Troupe have resumed in Redhouse, undisturbed by the frantic noises of pigeons copulating on the roof.
   Wayne-O still intends to plead his innocence in court -
   ' When we were clearing up vomit or eating all the flung waste from numerous takeaways, the No-Wings never complained.
   They want passive pigeons. They want us docile as the stuffed animals in Cyfarthfa Museum.
   But no, we pigeons are made of stronger stuff......I will fight for justice!'
   It appears that Wayne-O Pijin's political ambitions are finished though.
   He can no longer be accepted as Pijic Flying Party candidate in May's Assembly election, due to his arrest. 

   This is a love poem written by one of his wives, Gloria McFly.......

                             KING OF ALL PIJINS!

My pooer dear Wayne-O
stuck in a prison.

Ee've bin framed
I cun tell yew.

'Inflightment to violence',
but ee on'y brings peace.

They should rename ower town
Merthyr Wayne, ower new martyr.

King of all pijins!
Lord of all doves!

Omer Erectus t us wives ;
they wan' a sacrifice.

Pooer darlin Wayne-O
treated like some parrot or seagull,

but ee int talkin,
on'y 'Coo,coo,coo.'

Ower lives 're emtee
as a place without pasties.