Glastonbury
- Sitting it out at home!
This one came to me quite soon after I was asked whether I was going
to the Glastonbury Festival this year. The extended words started off
as a Jamaican accent (thanks Charlotte), but maybe it's more appropriate
to think of a chilled out festival goer. We love John Peel.
The fe-sti-val of Gla-ston-bur-y
Was so full this year, they had no room for me.
No top tunes will fill my head,
So I'll console myself by getting stoned instead.
No chance to kip inside a tent,
Or watch the embers of a fire become a sunrise.
No spicy bean-burgers from a van.
Out in fields of green watching passing butterflies.
The fe-sti-val of Gla-ston-bur-y
Chilled my mind and helped my spirit to be free.
I'll have to wait yet another year
To stand in line for half a cup of warmed up beer.
My sleeping bag remains unfurled.
My swiss army knife cuts nothing but the holes in cheese.
No five mile hike with a forty-eight pack,
No torchlight trips to pee, or rizzla related injuries.
The fe-sti-val of Gla-ston-bur-y
Opened up a whole new range of music for me.
The healing field was a revelation.
So many styles of living we have in our nation.
No dancing frenzy in the cooler tents
No meeting up for a full cooked breakfast at four.
This year it will be me and Mr. Peel.
He's pretty good you know, but I'll be wanting more.
The fe-sti-val of Gla-ston-bur-y
Is on again, but missing one vital part, namely me.
With a pile of cans around the floor
I'll try my best, with the radio, and an open door.
Category: "Life", Star-Rating: **
Written by Keith Lambell, June 27th 2002
Poem viewed 27 times since March 2002.