may isle
CONTENTS
- Columns (60)
- Prose poems (24)
- Songs (14)
Welcome
Welcome to 'A Frample', a confused tangle of columns, prose poems and lyrics. It's not so much a blog as an online folder, lying somewhere between a drawer and the bin.
East side
1982
Reaching up to grab just a little more
Whistling something but you can't find the tune
You hear a key in a lock then a slamming door
And a dog howling at the moon
But it's just another downtown ride
down to the east side.
Shaking inside while shaking the hands
The ticket to get in, also gets you out
Make the formal break, take a formal stand
Muffling the whoop and the shout
Rejoice in the relief when you're outside
And heading to the east side
The atmosphere gags you like smoke
Your lungs are gasping for air
Everyone is laughing at an old, old joke
It's not funny, but no-one cares
It's too obvious to try and hide
And escape to the east side
Some young fellow takes another blast
Let the memories slip further back
Doesn't matter if it's the first, or last
Just as it all stays on track.
The emotion sweeps over him like a tide
Carrying him to the east side.
When you start looking back, don't wonder why
Nothing is as bright as the lights in the night.
For every laugh, there's an agonising cry.
That's the way of it, and that's all right.
The steeple's high, the road's wide
Down on the east side
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There’s an adage that I don’t agree with about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks. Physical challenges may be too much, and while...
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Fife Free Press, October 4, 1996 I think it's a male thing. While the average ‘guy’ is supposed to like his beer and his footb...
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Girl crying out in the street, Black eye, no shoes on her feet. Nowhere to go. No one to meet. There's hope in the depths of her despa...
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Hate replaced fear at that moment; I remember it as though it were yesterday. I despised them and loathed their very existence. I wished the...
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August 2017 At every chevron on every bend, there's a reminder of a new beginning coming after every end. Mist on the mountains, r...
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Young Vi, shortly after her mother left. July 12, 2020 I am writing this just a few days after my mother’s death. It is a personal ...
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Fife Free Press, August 16, 1996 “ I am not a number” screamed Patrick McGoohan as The Prisoner in the cult TV series. Well, ...
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October 20, 2012 Identity theft... that’s a pretty nasty thing. Trust me, it is. I had protection against that before my holidays. It...
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J ohnston Press, Saturday, September 5, 2015 I recently received a new photograph of me behind the wheel of my old motor. It’s a candid ...
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August 8, 1977 Paranoia ripples down and through the queue of painted faces. Each identical to its neighbour, right down to the etched t...

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