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Musicals
Wednesday, 22 September 1999 00:00

Cold Dry Shores of the Morning

 

Emorningaftercopy1

Hit
By the big saline wave
Of night

Caught
In the electric fizz
Of its foam

Then washed
Deep into sleep
Drawn under the sheets
Spun by the currents and turned on the tide

Till some storm
Tosses us back
Here on the cold dry shores of the morning
Naked and raw

ErolTaskoparan1

Time to wake up!
Get into the shower
Wash the sand from my eyes
The salt from your back

The sound of the waves is receding

But there
On our mattress of sand
Our imprint is left
The curvature of your body
The restlessness of mine
Like a plaster cast
Of desire
Which these little words
Can't fill

cunningham bed1

Peter Jukes 2000

Published in Original Poems
Monday, 22 September 1986 00:00

Driving Lessons

 

Outlook1

Driving along under an open sky
In our own sweet special way
The air is free
The world is wide
Till we hit homebound traffic of a Sunday

They flash in the rear view mirror
Those bastards trying to overtake
Ahead a swarm of brake-lights flares
Round tail backs and delays.

So our leisure begins to wear us out
Just as a press on the peddle pushed us back
Over what we've covered and yet to cover
Acres of implacable tarmac.

driving11

So much for progress. Why don't we sell up?
There are houses I've seen from the car or the train,
Tranquil, secluded. We could retreat
From this bumper to bumper rat-race...

And so I go on, till you point out
That all my supposed vistas of escape
Are next to a rail track or motorway.

I put on the indicator,
Push into third and pull
Into the fast lane

What's known is over.
What's gained is lost.
Ahead of us it's only hearsay.

Outlook1
Peter Jukes 1989

Published in Original Poems
Saturday, 22 July 2006 15:08

Stolen Moments

 

There's a moon in the sky
There's a light in your eye
As we walk through the mist

Without talking

The chill in the air
The thrill that you're here
All the best moments
Are stolen

Promises expectations
They always fail
Only the honesty of this moment stays

And though the winter's coming
We don't seem to mind
And though the leaves are falling
The leaves don't touch the ground

They never touch the ground

My plane's gotta go
Your coffee's getting cold
All the best moments
Are stolen

I could change my face
Change this time change this place
But the song on my lips
Isn't changing

Promises expectations
They always fail

Only the honesty of this moment

Stays

And though the moment's fading
It never leaves my mind
And though your tears are falling
Your tears don't touch the ground

I won't let them
Touch the ground.

Peter Jukes 2006

Though completely amateurish, and my first attempt at recording, here at least is the melody of the song.

Published in Song Lyrics
Saturday, 22 July 2006 15:05

Her High Heels

 


Once again, amateur singing, playing and recording, but this lyric makes more sense with the music.

He stole his own daughter
Took her in his car
In a town near the border
He didn't get far
He thought the police were coming
So he left her on the road
A freezing night in winter
She was four years old

Where is she?
That abandoned child?
After all those years
How did she survive?

She's walking right in front of me
Wearing her high heels
Kicking up the leaves
She walks ahead so fearlessly
Laughing back at me
Underneath the trees

Like no one else
She found herself

See the world
Feel it turn
Rivers melt
Spring returns
Touch the earth
Feel it breathe
The sun comes out
When you're with me

She walking right in front of me
Wearing high heels
Kicking up the leaves
She walks ahead so fearlessly
Laughing back at me
Underneath the trees

Like no one else
She found me herself

See the world
Feel it turn.
Touch my face
Feel it burn.
Watch the trees,
They know it's true
The sun comes out
When I'm with you.

Across the world
In her high heels
Through mountain range
Over snowfields
Left behind
She is now ahead
And she wears her heels
Even In my bed

Peter Jukes 2006
Published in Song Lyrics
Friday, 22 September 2006 00:00

Your Little Book

24nov04 henricartier-bresson1

She's sitting on her cloud
Reading a book

Wish I had written that book
Wish I WAS that book

She could turn my pages over
Slowly, then fast, getting
Lost in the plot, rifling
Her way to the climax

She could peruse me anytime,
Lift me up, put me down,
And from cover to cover
Read between my lines

She could keep me in her pocket
On her pillow at night
Under her shirt on the subway
On her legs or on her lap

Only she can comprehend me
Many times she's picked me up
And then carefully bent me back
Without damaging my spine

So here I am again
Your little book

Open at the page
Where you left me

book2Peter Jukes 2003

Published in Original Poems
Monday, 22 September 2003 00:00

Double Manhattan

 

0441

In the Met Museum
Aphrodite
Half naked.

In a club downtown
Your underwear
In my pocket

069-11

Peter Jukes 2006

Published in Original Poems
Friday, 22 September 2006 15:01

Nothing Between Us

 


Once again, forgive the amateur singing and playing but this lyric needs the music.

Sheets still warm from the dryer
I spread them on my bed
And I look for some reminder
But there's nothing of you left.

No trace of you in the shower
Who would've known you'd been
Oh so lovely in my mirror
Like a portrait or a dream?

There's nothing between us
No future and no hope
It was just
One of those moments
And we should let it go
Let it go

What was there between us?
Some lipgloss on a glass.
Oh and where did you leave fingerprints?
A thread from your pink scarf?

Others always wanted something from me
You took me for who I was
And you loved me for no other reason
Than the logic of your heart.

There's nothing between us
No mortgages, no rings
It was just
One of those crazy
Temporary things

I drove so fast to the airport
I think you'd thought you'd die
And I died a little in the car park
You knew and kissed my eyes.

I said 'I hope you have a good summer'
And when you thought I'd gone
You cried and dropped your passport
But I was watching all along

There's nothing between us... (repeat)

Never anything between us
No promise, no goals
No lies, no disguise
So tell me why
I let you go?

But no
It's not over
I can't forget
That feeling

And yes
I don't expect
Whoever said
It would be easy?

But when
I see you there
It all makes sense
It is so easy

Easy
It's easy
No scarf
No thread
No sheets
No bed
In
Our skin
It's easy
You and me
Nothing
In between

Peter Jukes 2006

Published in Song Lyrics
Tuesday, 03 April 2007 00:00

April

 

ablossom1

Another year. I see the blossom
Scuffed under my boots
Crushed to slush on the pavement.
My phone buzzes - is it a text from you?
No. Just 'Battery low'.

How come I always miss the spring?
Something that's always about to happen
Or a lottery I never bet on...
My phone buzzes again
‘Battery low’ and with a blue flash
"Goodbye"

ablossom21

I must try to be more present.
This is my life no other.
How many rehearsals do I have left?
But the trees fake it
Effortlessly.
They deserve the first prize in
You've got Talent.

Plug the recharger in.
If I find a signal quick
Maybe I will yet get a text from you.

The phone lights up and says
"Welcome".

Yes welcome welcome welcome
One day I'll be there to meet you.

ablossom31

Published in Original Poems
Thursday, 22 September 2005 00:00

Grey Angel

 

angel31

He was a kind of angel,
Building his perch in the rockface,
A DIY nest of packaging and foil,
Keeping a lookout all evening,
White wings furled.

While the sea wind slowly
Rubbed the cliff
Into oblivion.

He was only a kind of angel,
Immaculate, untested,
For what kind of angel
Is afraid to fly?

angel21

Then I fell for you:
Surrendered to empty air
Went without
Feathers, mortgages, metaphors,
Let go of all my losses
Losing grip of everything
Grey feathered now

Drinking pints of sky

Rinsed by the wind

angel11

Peter Jukes 2003

Published in Original Poems
Friday, 22 September 2006 14:49

Finished

 

I’m out of luck again
And out of inspiration,
And Lenin is on the train
To the Finland station.

He knows what he’s doing
He knows what’s to be done,
And here I am
Standing on the platform.

*

I feel the lure
Of the suburbs calling,
To be simple to be wise
A pretender
Living out his life
Without a hope or a prayer,
Without rhyme or reason.

But the rhyme and reason
Keep on coming.
And the need to arrive
Goes ahead of everything.
The young poet
Walking out
Into the Finnish lake,
The other in the mental asylum,
My mentor
Deducting the final days
With every cigarette he smoked.
He knew what he was doing…

And then it really hits me:
If everyone heads nowhere
Why am I so jealous
What is the hurry to join them?
The train is pulling into the station.
Everybody is nowhere.
Arriving doesn’t matter
Time after time,
Without rhyme or reason.

*

It doesn’t end;
The light-bulbs to be changed. Bed mites
In my pillow. Tides milling the shingle.
They never end.
Car hire lease payments.
The fatuousness of fame. Replication of
Cancer cells. The best dying young:
The worst getting their own
Newspaper columns. Summer nights heavy
With the smell of bad barbecues:
Autumn with diesel, spring with cocaine.
It never ends. Idiots in the chancellery. Control freaks
In their driving seats. The plunder of the forests.
The selfishness of plankton. Suspicious border guards.
The questions and evasions.
Insects thriving. Continents colliding.
Mothers screaming at their kids.
Couples shouting in the street….

They will never end.

But this
At least
Is finished.

Published in Original Poems
Page 3 of 4

Links and Contact Details

Live Tweeting

Over the last few years I've created some attention with my live coverage of the phone hacking trial in London, the most expensive and longest concluded criminal trial in British history. There are various accounts and articles about this on the web, including a radio play. My Twitter feed can be found here, and a collation of evidence from the trial, and all my live tweets, can be found at my Fothom Wordpress blog. There's also a Flipboard magazine and a Facebook Page. My Klout ranking is here.

More Journalism and Books

Various journalistic articles of mine are scattered throughout the web. There's some kind of portfolio at Muckrack. The most extensive reporting is for the Daily Beast and Newsweek, but there's more at the New Statesman, the New Republic, Aeon etc. I have two non fiction books published in the last year: The Fall of the House of Murdoch, available through Unbound or Amazon, and Beyond Contempt: the Inside Story of the Phone Hacking Trial, available via Canbury Press or also on Amazon. I am currently contributing to a new site for open source journalism, called Bellingcat, and advisor (along with Sir Harry Evans and Bill Emmott) to an exciting new crowdfunded journalism startip Byline. 

Getting in Contact

My generic email is my first name at peterjukes.com. That should get through to me pretty quickly. My Linked In profile is here. For non journalistic inquiries, for television stage and film, contact Howard Gooding at Judy Daish Associates. Examples of my television work can be found on IMDB. This links to the site for my forthcoming musical, Mrs Gucci. My radio plays can be found in various audiobook formats on Amazon and elsewhere.

 

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