@MattAbbottPoet

@MattAbbottPoet
Image © Copyright Amy Charles Media 2014

19 Oct 2011

Chippenham Travelodge



Always from the very deepest snoozing
When wishful thinking's waking me confused
I toss and then I turn and then I strain
Just to have a slight distraction populate my brain

The very thinnest crevice in the curtain
Slowly sheds the light across the room
I'm static in the shower as she gradually devours
And my ribcage forms a temporary tomb

She makes a mockery of everything I've previously enjoyed
On the fraying navy carpet I am strewn
At four a.m. in a Travelodge in Chippenham destroyed
And all I've got's this sad and lonesome tune;
All I've got's this sad and lonesome tune

She's the very first and final maiden
To make her absence seem like such a chore
With this longing I am laden;
Just wanna see her pretty face once more

And if I make a call it will be torture
I'm protecting this projection of my pride
For the softest sweetest voice would make me crumble
As conversation carries on beside

She makes a mockery of everything I've previously enjoyed
On the fraying navy carpet I am strewn
At four a.m. in a Travelodge in Chippenham destroyed
And all I've got's this sad and lonesome tune;
All I've got's this sad and lonesome tune

29 Sep 2011

Broadway Circle


Mister Harris isn't happy; barged in through the door
His face incensed with fury and the odour of a skunk
His breath resembled sour milk and spit flew as he swore
He came in here on Wednesday last, his favourite trousers shrunk
I find the nearest notebook and I log down his complaint
But far from satisfactory, he's suing our Launderette
If he edges any closer, I'm certain that I'll faint
And how much bloody duller can my day get?

And I long for any life, but Broadway Circle
And I'll go and join a circus or a library or a church

And it's hardly worth the living when I'm leaving here upset
And how much bloody duller, can this day get?
Yeah I long for any life, but Broadway Circle


And foolishly I've fantasised on many afternoons
With Jim inside my headphones and a thousand mile stare
Convince myself at closing time the end is coming soon
Convince myself that anybody cares
Yeah, you've mispronounced my name-tag although you're getting near
And one day you might manage just to call me by my name
That's right, Mister Harris; it's not "moron", it's "Maria"


Yeah, I long for any life but Broadway Circle
And I'll go and join a circus or a library or a church
And it's hardly worth the payment 'cause I'll always be in debt

And how much bloody duller, can this day get?
Yeah I long for any life, but Broadway Circle

And I make my way home and I sigh and I recline
I stop off at the Co-Op and buy myself some cheap wine
I stroke my dog and put my slippers on my feet
And suddenly my day is rather sweet...

27 Sep 2011

When Saturday Comes


There’s no rational explanation
The lads can do no wrong
Bound by love and dedication
This is where we all belong
And I don’t need a rhyme or reason
To spend my weekly wage
I’ve followed them every season
Since seven years of age
And this game changes you forever
Life reduced to crumbs
There’s no doubting my endeavour

When Saturday Comes, we come alive
When Saturday Comes, at two fifty-nine

The floodlit sky provides direction
For those away from home
As one man ponders his selection
One man’s left to roam
And the pubs are awash with coloured clothes
Not a square inch going spare
And then they exit in their droves 
Excitement fills the air

And he might earn more in a summer 
Than I earn in my life
He’s got a hot tub and a Hummer
And Miss World for his wife
But when he scored that left-foot screamer
Became the golden son
He joined the drinkers and the dreamers

When Saturday Comes, we come alive 
When Saturday Comes, at two fifty-nine

And I don't need a rhyme or reason
To spend my weekly wage
I’ve followed them every season
Since seven years of age
And it’ll change your way forever
Your life reduced to crumbs
And there’s no doubting my endeavour

When Saturday Comes
When Saturday Comes

30 Aug 2011

Plessey Road



There’s a smudged stain of your make-up
And a faint view of the Princes Dock
A hair-clip on the table
That points towards the impatient clock
And you crept as they served breakfast
Left me blissfully unaware
The night we had was reckless
And I slept without a care

And as you head down Plessey Road
I struggle to come to terms

But those thirteen hours beside you, girl
Really served to reaffirm
And I choke on pleasant small-talk
In this meaningless façade
Yes sir, no sir, when sir, why;
Keep hiding behind your guard


When you come to speak
As rare as it's revealing
Few things could beat
That old familiar feeling
And I'd write for a week
And never once could capture
When you come to speak
The way that you enrapture


The way you drape across the chair
As the street-lights spring to lifeNo Mademoiselle from ArmentièresNo mere mortal's wife
You're like the finest statueWith a purple plastic heart

Translucent your antennae
And destined from the start


And as you lay there on the bed
Unbuttoning my jeans
I have to keep you in my life
By each and every means
And one day, you'll find Plessey Road
And in the plant pot by the plaque
You'll tuck away your key, kiss your mother on the cheek
And never once go back


When you come to speak
As rare as it's revealing
Few things could beat
That old familiar feeling
And I'd write for a week
And never once could capture
When you come to speak
The way that you enrapture

26 May 2011

Bridge Street


At dawn rise, she starts to drift off to sleep
A secret sworn as he's creeping down her mother's stairs
No hiding the stride of a billionaire
And at nine; maybe half-past or ten
The simple choice of two men;
Her boyfriend or her lover
On Sunday evening she'll discover the blues
She'll have to choose fairly soon
On one hand she'll stop and swoon
But comfort can't be shifted
Although it's colder since she drifted away
Her days have long since been ruled
She can't help feeling a fool
But that familiar haze
Since he first held her, with his gaze...

And the rain that falls does nothing to dampen the mood at all
She hides in a hole on Bridge Street, just waiting for him to call
And the way he takes the greatest care on her coffee breaks
You can change someone's way for the rest of the day
With something simple and small

The X17 into town tries it's best to slow down
The meeting of two hearts;
This afternoon his train departed
She's started taking with her hair
It's several months since she cared
Or spared a second's thought
She ties it back so they won't get caught
And he taught her not to doubt on her dreams
It's never quite as it seems
But now her fear encroaches;
She holds her breath, as he approaches...

And the rain that falls does nothing to dampen the mood at all
She hides in a hole on Bridge Street, just waiting for him to call
And the way he takes the greatest care on her coffee breaks
You can change someone's way for the rest of the day
With something simple and small

She never set an agenda
Never thought that he would surrender
On that sunny sandy beach in the summer in Spain
Never thought this would happen again
And it's been at least 48 hours
And everything he says, she happily devours...
And then it's back to the lies
And living the life that they both despise

And the rain that falls does nothing to dampen the mood at all
That wonderful escape on Bridge Street
And now she's back to missing his calls...

28 Mar 2011

Lucifer's Cardigan


Sometimes it's not so much the fear of being rejected
But the fear of being accepted
That's left me rather stuck
And I'm looking for distractions whilst you're looking at the floor
And I'm happy just to settle for a draw


And you might not notice how I start again
Two words out of ten, and end-up looking suspect
As you muse on muddled words I lie there gazing at the table
I'm willing but unable
To find another subject


And it feels like I am standing at the top
Of a diving board with a hundred metre drop
Or twelve yards out with the ball placed on the spot
But forty thousand whistles make me stop


And I'm wearing Lucifer's cardigan as you kiss me at the door
You tell me that you love me, and my feet raise off the floor
Then the harshness of reality leaves me wanting more
There's another awkward silence as I settle for a draw


And it feels like I am standing at the top
Of a diving board with a hundred metre drop
Or twelve yards out with the ball placed on the spot
But forty thousand whistles make me stop

And I'm wearing Lucifer's cardigan as you kiss me at the door
You tell me that you love me, and my feet raise off the floor
Then the harshness of reality leaves me wanting more
There's another awkward silence as I settle for a draw

Well he's really quite good lucking, mum; he's awfully polite
In fact, I think he might...
No I doubt he ever will do, dear