No Power In The Verse Can Stop Me NaPoWriMo 2025

I’m 14. I’m on the bus.
Headphones on, trusty Sony Walkman
I’m with people, but I’m not 
They think I’m being rude 
And I am.
I think about it a lot.
A girl gets on and sits in front 
Pin badges, patches, eyeliner 
And I’ve *got* to let her know 
That I’m not one of them
Nothing matters more to me than making this connection 
So I loudly exclaim something like
“I can’t hear you Laura, I’m listening to 
Heart Shaped Box!”
We get off the bus in town 
And the girl goes down to the cool bit 
Where incense hangs & people get tattoos
But me and these lot, I dunno, get McFlurries I suppose. 

I’m 18. I’m on the bus.
I’m listening to my little Sony mp3 
That I bought with some inheritance from Aunty May 
And what better way to remember her than with 
2 whole gigabytes of memory?
I’m listening to The Smiths
(Back when I could, before the racism)
Rain slides down grey windows 
A random man shows me a missing finger on his hand 
Shouting unintelligibly, until the bus driver makes him leave.

I’m 24. I’m on the train.
Commuting 90 minutes each way
Every day
The carriage is packed but I have a seat
Suddenly I realise heads turning towards me
My earphones have disconnected
And the world is being treated to 
Nicol Williamson singing 
Down
Down
To Goblin Town
You 
Go 
My lad 
I’m a fish so far out of water it’s like living on the moon 
Everything is wrong.
But the tunes of my youth are waiting.
Waiting. 

I’m 27. I’m in a van.
Everything I own is in the back
My uncle is driving, doesn’t do small talk 
So he cranks up the radio 
And we listen to Bowie 
All the way home.

I’m 30. I’m at a gig.
Me & my brother are watching Chuck Ragan 
And I let myself feel the driving beat
In a way I haven’t since 
Well
Him. 
When he told me it was weird.

I’m nearly 36. Music is everywhere, 
Everything 
This box in my pocket is the equivalent of 100 of my little Sony mp3s 
Words stretch up to the ceiling
Playlists curated for every feeling 
I take a punt 
And in about three months
It pays off 

I’m 38. I’m in the car.
Tunes on obviously, coz I’m not a serial killer 
Suddenly the shuffle offers me 
My own damn voice.
And I’m so proud of my pals
And so proud of the choice 
To be here. Now. 

Singing our bloody hearts out