The Morning of Perception or How To Be A Smart-Arse or How Foley Got Back At His Parents The Story of How Someone

Self-Obsessed and Unhappy became SelfObsessed and Happy. By Matt Foley.

Find: Add Memo: After A Big Chat With Mum Alcohol and Other Drugs And Bladder Control Blunderbuss Christian Spruit (Apologies, Bloody Orkney) Cocaine Criticisms Dawn Dearest Death (or Ejaculation!) Debts Eggs Everything (The Hunter) Evil Express Yourself Dumbass Facebook Fathers Reply to Prove Yourself (sic) Foley Freedom Las Vegas! Fry Girlfriend Godot Hannah Happiness Happy Hearn. Heroin Hippies I Am, By John Clare Inbox Inspiration Is This A Fucking Church? Jackie Jillings Jokes Lion London Orange Mastication Midnight Noises Morrisey My Whole Life Nan And Granddad Oi. Oxford. (And Emma C). Pay Perception Perfect Day

Peskett Portfolio Prof. David Fuller (Eng) Proud Catholic Family Prove Yourself Put Asunder! Revolution! Rola Rude Little Piglet Rushed Self Concious Smug Stand Up Stuart Lee, My Bestest Comedian (Taking the) Pisk Television Sky (a dream) The Meaning of Life Tired Title Cannot Be Empty Tree Yeo. Yo, Cat. Yorke Youth

DOES ANYONE CARE?

After A Big Chat With Mum I left it didnt I? I left it far too late. Hey everyone. All my life, And you havent been appreciating me. Its fine. Were cool. Alcohol And Other Drugs Im breathing poems at the moment man, Like I feel Like Ill always be breathing them! God man Whooooooaaaaaa Does poetry end? Whats the best poem? FUCK POEMS! LETS GO TO THE PUB!!! And I dont want to be poetic, it comes off all wrong. Its best to sit quietly while my belly rumbles. Ive got a headache too. Orange juice tastes nice though. In fact, the hunger, and the headache both seem to press it all on And on And on And I hate the sound of my own voice. It lingers. And I hate myself crying as I clamber into bed. The crush is everywhere, but I want life to be good. Ill go to the fridge then, and

Bladder Control I need to pee. Excruciating stuff. But I dont know whether I can get to the loo without awaking Justine, my mother. My palms are sweating As I type out this poem I need the loo. But I cant get things open. Throaty cough Probably from all the fags A haughty loft The poet sits and stares. Blunderbuss Blunderbuss He combs his hair Looking to the mirror Looking looking. Where are you Blunderbuss? I cant find you by myself Ive got the locks of God And sit here flailing from Hell Blunderbuss! Youre here! Miraculous, become clear Youre in and around and All over your head. You are the haircut. Christian Spruit (Apologies, Bloody Orkney) You alright mate? Yeah. Wow. Im not, bloody something on Tuesday. Oh bloody that? Well bloody this! Bloody twat. Mate Mate Mate Beaut. Cool.

Cocaine Piddily piper on a ledge Piddily playing his piddily piddily pipe A world of enormous enchanting sprites Stop lets sip Lets drink a few You can have a coke And I can have a coke And if we all have coke Well be able to talk and be cool. Theres cocaine on the toilet seat. Criticisms Charlie banned from the new house on unfounded cocaine allegations. Said cocaine still in mothers possession, supposedly making her a Class A criminal. Holiday plan to stay in a B&B with Hannah not allowed- above the station of a student. (Despite Hannahs less landed parents commenting it sounded like a good idea). Promised wages for DIY reneged on- firstly a whole extra 45 minutes simply werent paid for, then an attempt was made to cut an extra fiver off since I hadnt cleaned up (in actuality, I had been told by Mum to stop because I looked exhausted). Unbelievable. Desire to not become a lawyer routinely crushed; view of life as a money making exercise routinely asserted. Ive given up smoking.

Dawn

Is this the dawn Of my being a poet? Or is it just a phase Im going through? Will I stop wanting To be a poet If I just do the things Society wants me to? Can I be happy Can I be free Can I want life Without someone stopping me?

Dearest Dear Publisher. Im tired of not knowing Where the fuck it is My fucking poem Is meant to go. Will you listen? Do you care? Or have (my) poems just died Because weve all lost our soul? Death (or Ejaculation!) Quite a portfolio I seem to have now The morning still young Blossom Blossom Blossom in the sun, Ill go to sleep but youll Come up high Ill find myself enchanted And then fall And then die. Eggs You never fucking listen You never fucking listen I always fucking listen When will I be done Listening I hear spring Suddenly theres a valley In my head And a fine lady In my bed And everything else just onwards in a scramble.

Everything (The Hunter) Poetry competition Here we go Reeeeeeaaaadddd your poem Before the Hall Read it out Before them All. I dont like the way Hes sat Talking on stage Fat. This greedy ogre Wants to steal that poem It makes it worse That you know him Vaguely and youve never been nice He doesnt deserve it. Hes fat and crap at life. But how has he then won? Someone so fat? Someone so crap? I actually kind of like how he declaims He was really into that Despite everything Evil Evil. Evil. Ive charmed you all my life. Worked to your patterns Listened to your strife Look at your house Its wonderful and big Look at your children They all need a hug Youre an ass. Go and hug your children. My God, its fun, Go and hug your children! I could have fun all day.

Express Yourself Dumbass. What is this guys problem?! Facebook No-one puts up any pictures of me on Facebook. Its like I dont exist! Perhaps Ill just ignore it then. And exist. It doesnt always feel right. Its always there. When do you check it?! Why do you check it?! God, Whats the fucking point?! Fathers Reply to Prove Yourself (sic) Prove yourself; get home on time; consequences extend beyond this rhyme. Later again without a doubt; its a given youll get locked out. And all this thinking of pastures green, my be appropriate for the Queen. But if you dont prove yourself with a good job; youll be eating soup cause you only have a few bob. Smoking kills, or so they say; but smoking means pizza for me; hooray! By Martin Foley (the father of Matt Foley, the Poet) Foley Foley can only have a good time. Roly-poly Pompous Silly Old Foley, A frightening talent. No.

Freedom Las Vegas! I cant stop writingIs it a curse? Because if you write And do well Then youll make money A pittance! Mother screams Its not worth it Be lonely And miserable And dont be free. Fry Generation Of the internet poem Youll need lots Because we all have Such short attention spans Generation Of the internet poem Why dont you have a longer attention span? You could be like Stephen Fry! Hes very clever. Girlfriend Ive got your poem now And like with everything you write its Hauntingly beautiful But I just want to cry right now Because I want to shnuggle you and Make everything better I wish you were here!

Godot The genius asks why and never gets an answer But he loves doing it And he does it over and over again Waiting for Godot It makes him happy Life going on He feels like the Anti-Godot He feels like, maybe, Godot did deserve his Nobel Prize. Godot is King. But he isnt a genius. And hes certainly not God. Hannah Gorgeous, lovely, I love you so much. I feel golden every time I see or feel Your touch. Youre gold to me I love it that we can just BE. Gorgeous, lovely, You mean so much to me. Happiness I dont know if I can always feel Inspiring. Its such a drag. People pull such a Cheesy face when you tell them the Truth. But their smiles, when we behave like Children, makes me add to that A little worth. Language pleases me, but it has to be Controlled. People have to be controlled. People have to be happy.

Happy Noise. The objects of love Gathered In that place I retreat When Noise Needs to be Erased. It doesnt exist Im sure But Noise Causes angst Causes need, the cure. Hearn. You know what youre doing. But Be careful to really mean it, yknow? Heroin Heroin. Heroin. Heroin. So youre a bloody dragon huh, Does that mean I should avoid you, Huh. Heroin. I breathe out I breathe in. Piss off. Glorified drug. Anyone can use you. And I wont. Hippies Open your eyes man?!?! Theres a whole field of hippies. Saying, being, loving Bizarre. Theyre weird! Hippies are unclear. They do too many drugs, They cant love, They must be confused, They must use.

Inbox One new message the monitor said (a bold surprise) I miss you I think she said. I started to cry when you left. Inspiration I wont sleep tonight. Ive got it again. Inspiration. Its a fucking headache. Is This a Fucking Church? I like Kimmins, Why does he always smoke? Hes such a performer, That Charlie Kimmins, Hell always perform, A little monkey. Jackie Matthew, Matthew! Dont call Granny a witch (although secretly, she is a witch) Shell enchant you And tie you to her cauldron. Grannys not a witch, But shell laugh at you, A scared child, Feel bewitched. Granny shocks you, She really does.

Jillings I wrote a poem for you ages ago, but it was crap, and probably still is. I see and pretend See and pretend See and pretend Jokes Jokes. I hate it when they go badly. Oh. But. I always tell them. Gooooooooooood. The trickety joking joker, Foley stop telling jokes Things cant be funny the whole time Sometimes jokes have to stop Stop Stop telling me them Lion Might as well Might as well Its the thought That makes me swell I might But I might not But might is being mighty And that I can do. London Orange Londoner. London. Youre so high and mighty. I feel like we should all squeeze you This summer And see how many pips we can take. Londoner. Londoner. London. How many pips can you take?

Mastication (like masturbation) Perhaps therell be days When I dont feel as inspired As I did then. And Ill wonder about it. And Ill pick up a pen. And Ill wonder about it some more. Ill chew the lid, Ill chew my nails, Ill chew, Ill chew, well chew, Until we find ourselves A nice little patch on the lawn. Midnight Noises Evening evening evening. The gentlemen all agree. An evening of evenings would be Delightful, to me. The pompous fuckers , How dare they be gentlemen He said. How dare they How dare they How dare they He mulls it over thrice in his head. Pompous tomfoolery Casting me to bed. Bed. A quiet place to be. Morrisey I love you, youre great. My Whole Life I sat down one night And decided to change my life To live To live To live I love it when people trust me, I hate it when people dont trust me, I feel it when they call, I know it when theyre small, I can rhyme. Im feeling decidedly un-rhythmic now. Where is it I come from? Im pretty sure I grew up in India.

And then moved to Holland. And then to Nigeria. Nan And Granddad You havent been forgotten. Ever. Oi. Oxford. (And Emma C). Oxford, yes. You were clever to reject me. Clever clever clever Youll never stop being clever Youre a national institution! And even if I do become successful (Perhaps even if I dont) Youll still be clever And therefore well all love you. Bloody Oxford. Bloody cricket. Why MUST you ALL be SO BORING. I came from Oxford- ahhh, did you?! Innnnteeerrrreeeesssttttiiiinnnnggggg. No fucking shit. Shut up. No one Cares. Its a fucking university. If anything Im jealous you went there. But hey man, Durham is fun. I like Durham. I prefer Durham. Durham is beautiful. Youre not. Well. Maybe you are (a little bit). Pay- an idea from Mum: why dont you charge people like thirty or forty pee to look at this magazine thing?! Perception Perception is everywhere. I like the way I breathe. They both, intertwined, make me want To scream. Society, hell, heaven, be this way, Life, love, life, be that way. Who cares? Why care? Should you really care at all? (You should)

Perfect Day We sat around the table As Charlie played us this song Which wound and circled And led to this deja-vu serene. But I felt us all Nourished on its oblivion And saw it all If only for a second. Then, because wed listened, Life felt so clear And I just walked round its spectacular Staircase. Peskett (And Reference: George Harrison- My Sweet Lord) Lord lord lord Oh lord My old friend God. Lordy lordy lordy Lord I think about you And yet you tell me To blasphemy?! Portfolio Portfolio Whom shall I choose. I can dissect and cut and choose. Youre perfect. Youre not. That word is right and considered. This word is not. Portfolio Oh Portfolio Youre flourishing! And yet you must be edited, Because people cant be arsed to read And everything you write is for their Benefit.

Prof. David Fuller (Eng) Perhaps you should take your exam Results And send them to me Even though I know what they are. Perhaps you should tell me. What my exam results are. Ill think about them Be made nervous by them Im intimidated by knowledge Ooohhhhhh, knowledge intimidates Me. But. Seriously. Ive learnt a lesson today. Knowledge is intimidating for a reason Man! Its cause you gatta learn it! And after that, Well then what? Ahh, it just goes on, doesnt it. Proud Catholic Family Hell. Ill sink down. Heaven- Ill go up, I guess? What does it feel like to be dead? Can we really know? Can we really know at all? Must we know? Yes we must! Catholicism is based on trust, And dearest, this is a Christian family, We do well To stay out of hell. Prove Yourself Prove yourself. Youre worth it. You need to prove Yourself. Life isnt handed to you on a plate. And It isnt like you can just become a Lawyer or Doctor For free, very easily. Work through it all And work through it all again And keep on working until you cant Find where you began. God I feel free!

Why must there be this lawyer, Inside of me? Put Asunder! I could amuse myself all day with a Blank piece of paper, You know?! Like, GOD, Im interesting. No, Im not interesting I am the Devil I enchant and enchant and enchant And make everyone unhappy, Eventually. Everyone listen to me. Everyone listens to me. Revolution! I just feel alive Im happy to say I can create Euphoria with my mind Every day And we could all be blissful and in the Wild Or we could all be Like a child The world needs a revelation. The world needs a revelation. Rola Ima clubbin clubbin clubbin Till tha cats come in Ima dance Ima dance All night lawng. Clubbing is the dream, Clubbing is tha sawng! Clubbing will be Clubbing will not You need to be smashed A night forgotten.

Rude Little Piglet Do you get it? Im pretending to be really rude, But Im actually not And in this way We can feel more comfortable together Because Im very uncomfortable Because I know Im rude But saying so Well, It seems a little crude. Rushed Ive written my first poem. I now know how that feels. It makes reality real. It works. It makes sense. Its worth having. Poetry?! How about you suck my nuts?! Id rather not So Err There we go! Self Conscious Stop it. Smug Be sincere. Mug. Stand Up Comedy comedy I want to do comedy Im going to stand up Clear my throat Clear it again God, Im comic, but in the wrong way. And Im still comic And Im still comic Hell, Im a comedian! And I have read all of William Blake.

Stuart Lee, My Bestest Comedian Youre really clever, Stuart Lee. But somehow You scare me. I dont want to be the object of satire. But I will. Because youre clever. Were clever? (Taking the) Pisk It was like we were best friends. All aboard the Pisk and Foley wagon, They used to IGNORE each other but Now they watch football together! And then it was like, Bam. Were not best friends. Because youre an ass. And Im an ass too. And well both be asses for the rest of Our lives. But cmon, really? Youre a fucking donkey. PS: Write a poem and send it back to me. Television Sky (A Dream) Faintly preserved stars In a television sky; Parting her split chord hair In gruesomely held night air. Blankly embracing rites But me, It was the spot of alcohol By which we could see: And all at once, as if, but by, bluntly lightning tore above us, so high.

The Meaning of Life Someone probably had that thought Before. And therefore it will die. Because if Im not original, Then why? Tired Everyone in this room Is a little bit tired And needs to go to bed. Go on, To bed, To the unloving clod of dying sand I suppose. To bed, to bed. You sleepy fucker. Title Cannot Be Empty Unease, tension, theyre hard to ExpresstggTyping this on my phone, I left after I heard a knock; The hallway was empty, The voices had stopped. Picking it up, The irony was crushing, The poem forgotten. Tree That man is empathy in a person Hes always happy Look at that nut Always happy What a nut What A Total Nut Yeo. Yeo.

Yo, Cat. Cheer up. Yorke. Im not as famous as you But Id like to know why youre Unhappy. Which Jigsaw Is Falling Into Place? Yes, sometimes things come together neatly. And yes, sometimes they fall too! But where is that place? And who can sell me the Jigsaw?! Damn, its confusing. Youth Ha. If Im young and happy now. And so on.

OFF THE RAILS.