Saturday, August 08, 2015

DODO MODERN POETS
 SEPTEMBER SONGS      
Join us  on Friday 18 September for the opening show of our autumn season at the Poetry Cafe, Covent Garden. Expect stellar performance poetry from new and established voices.  

LISA KELLY    
 Passion and punch from a much-published performer   
PR MURRY        
 Wit & wisdom from anarchic artist/poet   
EMILY BEVAN      
 Finely-crafted verse  from superb Dodo debut       
EMMANUEL SUGOI  
  Welcome debut from another rising poetry star                

Friday 18th September 2015  8pm
The Poetry Cafe, 22 Betterton Street, WC2H 9BX
£ 8 &7 concessions
Info: 01303 243868; patric.poet@zen.co.uk
Covent Garden/Leicester Square tube.
dodo modern poets letting fly with words


Friday, July 31, 2015

MAN RUNS FOR TRAIN

I make no claim to powers of prophecy, I wasn't the only one to see it, but I wrote this in about 2001, how tragic and shameful that nothing has changed.except for the added risk of drowning in the 'English' Channel.
MAN RUNS FOR TRAIN
There's someone running for a train.
As the train moves off down the track,
Someone doesn't stop,
Because he's come so far,
He's gotta catch the train,
There's no turning back.
And inside, the passengers sit back,
As the train gathers speed, rolling right on track,
Now they know they're safe on the train,
It should be in on time.
In comfortable seats they start to relax.
Someone makes a jump,
A desperate dive,
He might not get inside,
But, at least he'll get on board,
If he can hang on,
As it rolls down the track.
If he can find a handle.
Or something to grip,
With hands or feet or arms,
And fight off the cramp,
Then the train will take him too,
Then the train will take him far,
Then the train will make him safe,
Then the train will make him rich,
Or stop him being poor.
If he doesn't fall away,
As the train rolls away,
So that he rolls away as he falls onto the track.
And if he doesn't die right there,
As the passengers relax.
If he falls off the train,
And he doesn't break his back,
He'll get back up again,
Run for another train
Unless he changes the plan,
And adopts a different strategy,
In regard to the logistics
Of being a refugee.
He could float on a tyre
Or stowaway on a ship,
He could slip past a perimeter,
And get into the airport,
Or pretend to be cargo,
In the back of a van.
He could even buy permits, if he could find some money,
And sit back in the train,
As it rolls down the track,
Whilst someone else does the running,
Because they'll always be someone,
Running for the train,
Towards a dream before them,
With a nightmare at their back.

Sunday, June 21, 2015

SASQUASHTRAY NUMBERS 1, 9 AND 10

SASQUASHTRAY NUMBERS 1, 9 AND 10
artwork by p.murry in
FREE PAINTERS AND SCULPTORS MEMBERS EXHIBITION 2015

22 - 27 June 2015
pv 23rd June 6-9pm

Menier Gallery
51 Southwark Street
London SE1 1RU

T: 0207 407 3222
F: 0207 403 7721
E: mail@meniergallery.co.uk
Opening Hours During Exhibitions
Monday - Thursday 11.00 am - 6.00 pm
Friday 11.00 am - 8.00 pm
Saturday 11.00 am - 6.00 pm*





Thursday, June 04, 2015

PRESTER JOHN'S COLLECTION OF NOMADIC SNAILS




















PRESTER JOHN'S COLLECTION OF NOMADIC SNAILS

an artwork by pr murry in

Pure Painting: at BAR gallery

An exhibition dedicated to contemporary painting. Pure Painting is open to all forms of painting styles, techniques and mediums, examining the varied approaches used and its place within contemporary art practice.



Monday, May 11, 2015

Hoodies

The sight of an obese older man
With a hoodie on
Can cause raised eyebrows at least
Or even derision
Fashion fascists would pigeonhole the old
Carpet slippers and cardies are prescribed
We’d be getting them on the NHS
If it wasn’t being privatised.
Hoodies are for disaffected youths
Who shake crash barriers and shout slogans
Or for historical re-enactors
Who want to live in the middle ages
But medieval squalor could be all our fate
When they take apart the welfare state
So with hoodies on, we’ll barrage the police

With walking sticks, zimmer frames and false teeth.

Friday, May 08, 2015

the five year blues

It’s the day after the election
And I’m trying not to cry,
But above me, the housemartins
Are slicing patterns
In a cloudless sky
It’s the day after the election
The weather’s cleared after rain,
Now Swifts have returned
And scream on the wing
Like I want to scream in pain
I wonder if they’d have come back
If they’d known before they flew
That they were migrants to an island

That has got the five year blues