We dominated the arcade game
even at the end of the night
when half cut, you on Newquay Steam,
vapour trails followed your hand
as we took the Mutant Turtles
to the sound of Metallica’s
Seek and Destroy in Costermongers
every Saturday night to new extremes;
Searching seek… garbled mess of lyrics
following, yet in tandem
Dear Cousin,
we struck blow after blow
and we raised our beer bottles high
as we drove to victory
in Costermongers every Saturday night.
The multiple choice between Megadeth, Magnum, ‘Maiden or Metallica
T-shirts, crumpled to hell, beaten, seven shades of death
inside a second hand washing machine that dribbled
four star oil and council pop with regular ease
and threatened to catch fire whenever you weren’t looking,
locked horns with
the odd bit of your own valuable
spilled blood and redeemed soul,
imprinted forever, stained but unsullied and undefeated,
that always goes well with a great pair of jeans and trainers
that none of your well-meaning friends would be seen
dead in.
Birmingham, damp, soaking wet
And I feel the
Rain
Teem and rinsing at
My every pore
But welcoming me back with open arms
In greeting to a prodigal son
As I leave the bright modern station
Of New Street.
The autumn darkness shields me
Like an roughly made cloak and I remain invisible
To all who once played like I
In the Costermonger’s basement. The sound of an air guitar
Straining at the leash as the crash of a new beat
Hit our 14 year old minds.