Category Archives: Brad Evans

the bluesman ~ Brad Evans

phil walks into the bookshop,
picks up a mag from a shelf.

I tell a work colleague near me:
‘that guy is a hell guitarist!’

he looks at phil –

phil’s head is thin and withered-looking
his hands look tired and weak
his back is shaped like a banana
time appears not to have treated him that well.

my work colleague looks at me like I’m a fucking nut.

i tell my work colleague
to place a guitar between phil’s hands
and give him some space…

his head will snap upright
his hands will attend to the strings like they would a lover’s back

and he will sing the blues
in a style
and in a way

that only rare, gifted bastards do.

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the witch ~ Brad Evans

I’d been dating Thea for a week
during the summer, before one of her
friends

took me aside
mentioned that she was into painting and
witchcraft…

Witch or no witch,
I wanted to spend time with her…
and after a while,
things did go weird:

sometimes she would paint and then immediately
destroy

the work, putting it all to hungry
flames.

also, her cat liked to vomit in the most annoying
places, usually near me,

it knocked over pot plants on the window-sill with
its paws whenever it was pissed off.

Thea told me that her name was Greek for priestess,
and

I believed her.

She was beautiful.

she had short hair, burgundy-coloured
she had green eyes and wore green dresses

she had the whitest skin and proportions
I’d never seen on a woman before.

the problem was she knew it
too,

and an attitude came with her knowing
all this.

often we argued about silly things, like vanity and
ego’s

and spirituality,

I never believed in her spirituality. I told her
spirituality

often gave people power over others.

About two weeks into our relationship,
close to the end,

I grew sick and stayed in her bed.

my throat had inflamed and a fever ran through me.

she said that she’d fix me and began to apply
different

coloured rocks around the base of my neck and on my
chest.

I just said to her that some hot water with lemon
juice would probably

help cleanse my throat, so, the plain water
arrived,

with some more coloured rocks sitting in the bottom
of the mug.

I got my things together and fled, giving her some
time

to play
with her rocks.

keep movin’, Rob! ~ Brad Evans

keep movin’, Rob!
keep movin’

she ain’t gonna get you!
she ain’t gonna touch you!
just keep on movin’

what was that woman thinkin’, Rob?
what WAS that woman thinkin’?

Three times your age man!

Keep away from that sofa!
Just keep away from it!

It was a place to nod your nut,
I understand, old boy
To rest your weary head,
So soft, wrinkly & plush

Like an old woman’s breasts, Rob!
An old woman’s breasts!

But we don’t wanna go back there yet
so just keep on movin’!

What started all this, Rob?
What started all this?

She sat beside you and you were out!
And the sofa felt good, Rob,
After a hot day mowing grass
And all that beer
The sofa felt wobbly

Like an old woman’s arse!

But we don’t wanna go there, Rob!
We don’t wanna go there!
Keep movin’

It was a Christmas gathering
All your fellow workers
Coming together
And you found that sofa
and felt safe with your head back and restful

Until a hand brushed your thigh, Rob,
A hand – brushed your thigh!
An accident no doubt, Rob
We’ll pass on that one.

All that beer and sofa can’t be given up easily, Rob
Not without a fight!
And the sofa felt good, Rob,
The sofa felt smooth
Like toothless gums over your knob

But we don’t wanna go there, Rob!
We don’t wanna go there!
Keep movin’

Look at you in all your youth
You’re upright like a sprout
No place to close your bloodshot eyes
You miss that sofa already, don’t you.

But there’s bad memories there, Rob!
Bad memories.
You don’t wanna go back just yet!
So keep movin’.

You listened to the chat and smiled at the jokes
You rested your eyes
With your head nodding off

Until a hand stroked your chest, Rob
A hand – stroked your chest!
An accident no doubt, Rob
Don’t jump to conclusions
It will go away soon!

You’ve kept the sofa to yourself, Rob!
Kept it to yourself
And the sofa felt good, Rob
The sofa creaked
Like an old lover’s bones

But we don’t wanna go there, Rob!
We don’t wanna go there!
Keep movin’

You felt that was it, Rob!
You felt that was it!

You’d found your sofa and the beer
You felt that you’d arrived
And you were resting very well

But what was that tongue doin’ in ya mouth, Rob?
What was that tongue doin’ in ya mouth?
An accident no doubt, Rob
An accident no doubt!

It’s time to rise my restful peach
Just keep on movin’.