P MURRY seems to be having a sudden solo art show

P.MURRY ARTWORK at FOOD FOR THOUGHT October2014

Contact 07736525187/ email:  yrrumuk@googlemail.com/ http://quadraoptica.blogspot.co.uk/

P MURRY seems to be having a sudden solo art show ( thanks to Brent Artists' Resource), from now until the end of October at the FOOD FOR THOUGHT café which incudes

The eccentric ideas of an artichoke

Mixed media

£75

The sixth obsessional stance of Lionel Prism

Mixed media

£75

Unfossilised artichokes emit odes

Mixed media

£75

A renewed wave of opposition to artichokes

Mixed media

£75

The unknown redemption of Lionel Prism’s artichoke

£75

You never promised me an artichoke garden, why not?

£75

Always an artichoke but never an architrave or an archmandrite

£75

Artichoke, the skinwalker

£75

 EAT, C.ART F.ART

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

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brotherblob and sister slob

brotherblob and sister slob 

artworks by prmurry are in the BAR 30th Birthday Exhibition 9-30 august 2014

Preview Party: 9 august 2014 6-10pm Free Entry BAR Gallery / 4-5 Queens Parade, Walm Lane, NW2 5HT  www.brentartistsresource.org.uk

a waste of time

I waste my time

Watching timers,

All the time.

If I’m not clock watching,

I’m waiting for a digit to change

Thinking that I wish that the 9

On the indicator

Would just light up one more line

So that I could now see

The number 8

And appreciate

The whittling away

Of my railway station wait.

So than I can be soon back home

Watching a lighted bar

Move across my computer screen,

Almost imperceptibly slowly

As I do, more seemingly endless

Down and uploading.

And moving folders and files around

And if I’m not gazing at some timer flickering,

I’m faffing around

Or laying dozing listening to

The time pips on the radio

That go, meep, meep, meep, meep

Like a niggling itch,

Which won’t let me go back to sleep again

I think that I must get going

I know that I must get moving

So that can always be punctual

Keeping up with the time

Is the futile aim of my meaningless ritual,

Which means that I never get

Introverted or metaphysical

And wonder  why this old bald ape

Works himself up into such a state,

When, sooner or later,

He won’t have the time to wait and watch

The digits of the timer or the hands of the clock

Which may well continue

When his time has stopped.

DODO MODERN POETS: Saturday 2 August 2014 7.30pm

DODO MODERN POETS

25TH ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION

Dodo Modern Poets has been presenting top-flight poetry throughout the UK and Ireland for 25 years. Join us as we celebrate our anniversary with an extravaganza of poetic and musical magic at Abbeyfest.

PROJECT ADORNO

Electro-pop duo Project Adorno present songs & poems from their new Edinburgh Fringe show ´Jarman in Pieces'´

SUE JOHNS

Cornish roots meet urban reality

ARDELLA JONES

Wickedly stylish diva of Colliers Wood

P.R. MURRY

Sharp-witted North-London satirist

FRANCES WHITE

Soulful verse from gifted poet

PATRIC CUNNANE

Poetry and passion from Dodo founder

Saturday 2 August 2014 7.30pm

Colour House Theatre, Watermill way, Merton, SW19 2RD

£ 9 /8 concessions BOX OFFICE: 01303 243868

MORE DODOS IN 2014

19 September 2014

17 October 2014

12 December 2014

POETS TBA

midsummer bus ride

There is nowhere to sit down on

This red London double decker bus

At 7.30 on a Saturday morning.

Seventy wage slaves are already sitting

And twenty more are standing

Between them they probably speak and understand

Thirty languages or more

But nobody says a word.

They all have long journeys behind them

And long journeys before them

Sucked into central London everyday

Like stars into a black hole

Or soap suds into a plughole,

To wait at tables,

To prepare food,

To fill shelves,

To mop dirty floors.

Now many are still half asleep or more

And some, waking up, might wonder

As dreams dissipate

Why am I selling my life

Second by second

For a shit wage?

But the bus rolls on

And, even at 7.35 am,
it's too late.

THE JOYS OF OFFICE EQUIPMENT

FILING CABINET

I am a filing cabinet,

I have four drawers

And I am not an ocelot

So I do not have padded paws

Or sharp, sharp claws

Or a beautiful spotted coat

So I don’t

Go out hunting across jungle floors

I just sit here

Rectangular and metallic,

Storing, storing, storing

It might seem boring to you

But it’s all I do, because

I am a filing cabinet,

HOLE PUNCH

If I was a hole punch,

I’d never be out to lunch

I’d be so legless that

I couldn’t go to the cafė

All I’d eat is little paper circles,

No paninni, no salad, no baguettes

No cappucinno, no lattė for me,

Not even a short shot of espresso

Unless some silly office worker,

Spills it on me.

So I’d be underfed and caffeine free

And I’d subsist 

Very quietly,
On little paper circles,

Only making a creaking sound,

When I got pressed down

Otherwise,

I’d just sit there.

STAPLER

I am a capable stapler

Very capable and cabapler than

A pin or a paper clip

Of fixing sheets of paper together

Not forever

But for just long enough

Because that is what

I am capable of.

If I was a shredder

If I was a shredder

Life would be better

I wouldn’t have to worry

About my diet

I’d just eat paper

And I’d just shit paper

And I wouldn’t have be

Very quiet

I’d just go NYAZZZZ

Every time I ate and shit paper

If I was a shredder

Life would be better

‘Cause NYAZZZZ

Is all I’d have to say.