So I got hold of Everything Everything’s debut album yesterday and it’s pretty synth-tastic, like a hybrid between Late Of The Pier and a band I have on the tip of my tongue but can’t quite remember….

Anyway, here’s another poem; unsurprisingly it’s called ‘Evening’:

Do you creep up on me when my back is turned

Like paint to a canvas? Some faceless mask is placed upon the silence high above

While Manfred whispers in my ear ‘thinks’t thou existence doth depend on time?’

Sighing I am replying ‘is it a crime to kill time? To hack and to saw and mutilate the old man?’

Manfred titters runcibly so and returns to the mountains, 896 steps through the trees before he can rest in the etchings George made of him.

I shall muse and muse, as it gets darker and darker, until ideas cause

Light bulbs to explode into decadent radiance several million miles above my head, isolated

From one another by a mutual exclusion,

Simply put: a dot-to-dot possessed by the indolent. I wonder

If one could link arms with another and dance to the ethereal rhythm of Psyche’s wings; Thusly

Prancing gracefully before the Zionist peaks below, teasing the old men into a post marital temptation?

The smatterings of beauty are flecked like a Pollock, freckled across the languid and sombre brow of the night,

Whose only smile is illuminated by a billion teeth glittering inside a sleepy yawn.

But where is the light gone? Who snuffed him out, did the clouds eat Apollo or did they box him?

Do I cheer or jeer as life is sapped from my being by the second? As blinks begot yawns, stars begin to fool

Hurling themselves pettily to the ground through circles so small, framing innocence and naivety by rebelling their bedtime.

‘If I can’t watch Celebrity Big Brother then I shall crash into the earth and make Dinosaurs of them all’

Poor little star, so fallish that it burns up and flops, emptily, like a head to the pillow.