Inspiration can come
From anywhere
Walking home
From the bar
Like I don’t care
Looking at people around me
Hidden by masks
Perfumed and lonely
Oh man
Just don’t ask

I could write about everyone
So what do I do
I look at all the choices
Maybe I looked at you

A young lady
With a bent cigarette
Maybe her first taste of tabacco
Her first regret
She didn’t know
How to light
The fag
Her friends around her
It was a mess

People who saw me
They tried to hide
They know I’m a whirlwind
I’m a bad ride
I saw blue eyes so gorgeous
In a lady too young
I saw blonde hair on your daughter
And a tattoo drawn on

It took me only twenty minutes
To get my sad ass home
But I loved the sights and smells
Of people just trying to be their own
It took me a while to smile
Maybe I love this place
10 poems to get back home
It was written all over my face

Saturday evening
The kids are out
Doc martens and jeans
They know what style is about
Just like me
Thirty years ago
Full of angst and energy
So you are just like me

1993 on this day
I was drinking in Milton Keynes
Megadeth and Metallica
The stuff of wet dreams
Fast forward to today
My first weekend out
Lockdown has corroded me
Without a doubt

I feel energised
Just looking at everyone
In an ugly world
The beauty is still to be found
Blue eyes shining
And jeans too tight
I tried not to look
But you was looking so right

I saw many people
I got inspired
Tens of different ladies
Got myself tired
Angry from racism
And homophobia
Too many suicides
From causes unclear

I want to write something
That you can’t forget
Too busy getting old
And wrestling with regret
But when I saw a young pup
Bouncing along the promenade
Everyone came together
We was all so proud

So many observations
I’m in overload
Wanting to write a poem
But where do I start
It only took twenty minutes
To get my saggy ass home
But I was inspired by the determination
All the roads lead to Rome

10 poems I could have wrote
While watching the people
A Saturday evening there was hope
The children our future
Vaccinated becoming free
Turning the page just like me
Ferrari in the backstreets not a scratch
Cobbled and cod a mismatch

And a lady with pink leggings
And the oversized boots
The twins in tandem smiling
Her mother worried about grey roots
The neighbours living in Norwich
Came over to visit their mum
Arguing over camomile tea
And what they should have done

Then there is me in the mix
A hotheaded idiot with too much matrix
Escapism is my reality
Watching you stroll into my poetry
Gaetano died too early forty years ago
His poetry brought many blue skies
Music is our lullaby our will to survive
It took me twenty minutes to get home
Writing about passion here in the south of Rome