FebulousFebruary 2025: Lost and Found

Day twenty eight

We used to party

with our fingers 

inside each other 

under the table 

of our local pub. 

Laughing willdly 

because nobody knew 

what we were up to. 

Entwined 

encased in music 

gospel reggae soul

erupted 

as we partied hard 

under blankets 

made smooth by 

so much action. 

We partied until 

we were breathless. 

Two souls swirling 

in the dance 

of life .

Then like autumn 

leaves 

you blew away 

and for a while 

the ghost of you 

weighed a ton. 

But at least 

for a time 

we were able 

to stable each other 

on the floor 

in a rapturous beat.

Jo Fraser, Bromley

Poitin

It’s Sunday. Ten thirty. We’ve both dropped a pill.

And you know and I know it’s time to distil.

When the taste of your spirit is spit on my lips.

When I dive through the dark fathomed dip of your hips.

With your back and my back and arching and bending

we’re sending ourselves along deep, broiling tracks,

through the volatile, vaporous, wolf-wiley packs.

Through the thickening pot.

Through the cool and the hot.

Through the licking, slick tongues of the liquid

that gleam cleans the rot.

And you are the dance of the gluttonous flame

and I am the burn of a chemical beast

that cooling and boiling can’t tame.

With the chill … and your hot/sweat … condensing my soul

I know light and dark are the same.

In blackening waters we boil and steam.

We are vapour and mist,

we are blood, we are fist,

we are flood and vibration and dream.

I can’t scream.

I just coil in your coppery arms,

collecting myself from the spray on my thighs.

I am almost nothingness, formless … and formed.

I’m the tips of the swords in your eyes.                                            

Renée McAlister, Brighton

Day twenty seven

Sweet 16

I’ve got an empty 

Mum’s away to Mrs Muir’s caravan for the bank holiday weekend

Word spread like wildfire that

I’ve got an empty

Shall we have a theme? ….cartoon characters….disaster movies…we finally settled on hats ….fancy hats…mmmmm…. then at the last minute Clare said Hatasrtophe!!! Brilliant!

Living room blitzed, coffee table in bedroom……ideal for rolling a Thai grass joint Clare found out later …..the couch, we squeezed and scraped into the wee cellar …table and chairs fitted neatly on the wee verandah. We had a dance floor! 

Louise and Karen with lots of slap, wonder bras and borrowed heels managed to pass at the offy….loads of cider, lager and a bottle of dry martini was the prize.

Kenny, Ian and Graham begged, stole and borrowed amp, cables, speakers, Wharfedales Wow! and a big black case of vinyl….passing through with a cheese and silverskin onion hedgehog I see Kenny flicking through the LP’s ….Wishbone Ash, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Fleetwood Mac, 10cc, Peter Frampton, Bob Seger…..

In they piled to the living room as 10cc blared out….arms in the air heads keeping the beat bodies rocking 

Well the band were playing and the booze began to flow

But the sound came over on the police car radio

 Louise with a huge billowing flame coming out of a fireman’s hat bumping bums with Jasper and his stag horn head…..Clare skips in with her sombrero and guitar still singing Nelly the Elephant, packed her trunk and said……..Kayt and Colin wearing two sides of a bridge construction bopped together with Kayt mouthing to a puzzled Ian “The Tay Bridge Disaster !” Turn the music up!

Down at Precinct 49

Having a tear-gas of a time

I’ve got an empty 

We’re having a party

Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets

Fiona Thomson. Kent

Day twenty six

ESSENTIALS FOR HEAVEN

from I’m Still Your Negro An Homage to James Baldwin by Valerie Mason-John

iPhone A Flat Screen 

Black Mirror Credit Card 

A Plastic Note A Wrap A Spliff Doobie BC Bud 

Dj Sound System Reggae Hip Hop Trance Techno 

Spotify YouTube Apple Music Strobes Zoom 

Toilets Cocaine Blade Straw 

Afro Comb Hair Extensions Lippy Mascara Shades 

Chewing Gum Dance Floor 

Go Gos Visuals Projections 

Ecstasy Water Dancing Shoes 

Poppers Corkscrew Wine Beer 

Earplugs Mouth Guard CPAP

Vitamin Pills Echinacea Essential Oils 

Twitter Instagram Facebook Messenger Snapchat 

WhatsApp Netflix HBO Amazon Prime 

Iboga Ayahuasca 

Sleeping Pill

TIK TOK

Day twenty five

The party 

Welcome to the party,

Not you.

Too fat, too femme, too something.

Too Nothing really, nothing special, but still here.

Welcome to the party.

Not you.

No G, no T, No Special K.

Just something, but not enough.

Just something enough to stay.

The party is on, it’s here, but always looking somewhere else. 

What’s new, who’s new, where’s new?

Why are we here? Where are the others?

Always at the party, always looking for others.

Never looking at self, for self, in self.

The party is over. 

What, who, where – am I?

John Gilmore

Canterbury and Dublin

Day twenty four

Many Tory MPs are party people,

They smile all the time because they snort cocaine and they quaff champagne!                         

“Let the bodies pile high!” Boris Johnson shouted!

As Tories partied, Covid rules were flouted.

Was the PM there? He lied as he replied.

As people cried when their loved ones died

Not allowed to hold their hands

Under Covid rules this contact was banned 

They couldn’t attend their funerals

Social distancing had strict numerals

During Lockdowns, the Tories partied on and on

They pretended to comply but continued to con

Caught out, they agreed to investigation 

Now can Johnson survive the humiliation? 

While they got vaccinated and followed the rules, 

The British people were played for fools. 

By Jenny King

Day twenty three

A celebration of nature

The bears are nowhere to be seen. The wolves ignore Raf and Wilf’s wolf impressions. 

The late afternoon sunlight beams through the trees across the reindeer horns. 

There’s a hint of spring, of hope, of new life, of change. 

Could it be, could we allow ourselves to imagine….longer days, sunglasses, less clothing, warmth.  

Oh yes yes yes yes please.  

It’s all going to be ok. Thank you nature, seasons, consistent change. Love you. 

Amy Redmond, Margate

Day twenty two

People wanna party

They fought for their right to party

They don’t wanna hear about wages and taxes and how the rich gets richer  

They just wanna get together, have a beer or two, relax and chill, nice and easy

Let them know we are taking care of all that; working smart, partying hard

They….they just wanna meet a few people, have some small talk, maybe a boogie, flirt a little, maybe a few more beers, maybe a line or two, you know, relax and chill, nice and easy

They don’t wanna hear about the bees or the birds or the soil or the climate or the farmers and the workers and the teachers or the nurses or the doctors or…

Oh maybe the nurses…clap for them…Yes and let’s throw them a party!

They work hard, we work smart, we all need a party, relax and chill, nice and easy

Yes a party! wine in paper boxes, in paper cups; paper cheese sandwiches in paper bread; paper table covers, paper bibs…

For them I mean…for us BYOBs

They fought for their right to party 

They voted for their right to party

They voted for our right to party

Ec Oz

Day twenty one

Dance, drink, be merry

Don’t speak, don’t sit and think

Get up and dance!

The dance is where we let it go,

The dance is where we act as free.

The dance is all we have right now,

So, let’s be wild, you and me.

And then the dance it is no more,

The floor’s a mess, the head is sore

And still we have so much unsaid.

Ah fuck it, let’s just go to bed…

Deb Crossley, Thanet

Day twenty

This party has balloons,

Balloons are popping 

This party has music,

The music isn’t stopping 

People go round prancing,

In their own form of dancing. 

We all promised parents we’ll be back on the dot,

But somehow at a party there’s no time to look at the clock.

When I finally get home, I collapse on my bed, fun is exhausting, right? 

I had the most amazing time but you won’t see me awake in the morning! Night! 

By Erin Lobb, Horsham

Day nineteen

Doors 

My door whore is Screaming

through my broad hairy chest

to my glitzy heels

Ding dong! 

I am there 

flinging open drapes 

From the street

To safety of our 

Home.

Hovel. 

Heaven.

Head downstairs my darlings!

Join the party.

Flick my fan open and closed like a shield

Marking my territory back and forth forcing my heel and heel to the curb owning my patch then…

I see him

His stride 

His posture

His sound 

His silence

His hands in his pockets

His hair line

His face!

Knowing mine has been made up for him.

I’m silent

No heels to hit the curb

I’m stuck

No word to hit the mist.

He crosses by

Past

Down the stairs 

At the same rate

As my laden lashes

Fell.

I love him.

Adam Haylock-Lott

Wye