Now this place has emptied
And make gentle pornography with one another,
While the partygoers go out
And the dawn creeps in,
Like a stranger.
Let us not hesitate
Over what we know
Or over how cold this place has become,
But let’s unclip our minds
And let tumble free
The mad, mangled crocodile of love.’
So they did,
There among the woodbines and guinness stains,
And later he caught a bus and she a train
And all there was between them then
was rain.
old hippies turned lippies? ‘
‘huh? ‘
‘you know,
do a lot of talking
about change,
but not much action! ‘
kinda makes you think
about the way you live
your life!
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and bound for hell.
for you are not a disciple
of our creed…
i cannot pray for you,
you wear the mark of Cain! ‘
i smiled, and replied:
‘ah, but i read the scriptures
of the human heart,
written by the indelible hands
of passion and time.
i lift in prayer the sweat and the tears
of hungry souls struggling to survive.
i sing the hymns of the naked body,
my offering, myself, without restraint.
if i be wretched,
then stoke the fires!
the mark on my forehead,
tis the signature of angels! ‘
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without a lover,
trying to do the right thing…
then one day i stood up,
packed my few belongings,
and walked off…
in search of…’
i watched him as he rolled
a cigarette, his gnarled hands
sure and steady…
stared at the light in his eyes,
and the doors…
only he knew what
was behind them.
bought him a cup of coffee,
and shook his hand,
no need for words…
wondered if i’d met Jesus,
or the devil,
or if i was looking
into a mirror!
each path, each call,
is different… each heart,
pretty much the same.
i watched him light his cigarette,
and knew the smoke
to be a prayer!
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And some happy moments with her I can recall
But more often than not she was sour and cranky
And she was quite a nagger over all.
She did not want me socializing with my mates down at the Local
In the evening after work for a few ales two or three
And always when I’d go home she’d accost me
With you put your mates before your wife and family
And when she accused me of having my bit on the side I denied it
What else would one expect a man to do,
I could not tell her I was satisfying myself elsewhere
Though she gave me the feeling that she knew?
My sexual needs she had not been satisfying
And our marriage it had become a sex free zone
And lying side by side in bed with her for me no pleasure
I may as well have been sleeping on my own.
Till we slept in separate beds our love had perished
And our marriage it had gone into decay
And I feel happier since she did divorce me
And without her I feel better off today.
And with my mates I now can drink until late
And when I go home she is not there to say
To me again, don’t tell me you’ve been drinking,
I’m single now and single I will stay.
She Said.
I left him for the time was ripe to leave him
Since our son and daughter nowadays work for pay
And any love between us was long over
And with him I could not grow old and gray.
For to stay with him would not be to my advantage
And by leaving one like him how could I lose?
When he’d come home from the public bar each evening
He smelt so strongly of the stench of booze.
I knew that he was seeing another woman
Our last six years together was sex free
I could not make love to an alcoholic
As the stench of booze a thing that sickens me.
But what he did not know is that I too had a lover
And him I love and we are soon to wed
A kinder man by far than my ex husband
And more fun to be with and better by far in bed.
I wasted twenty years of my life with him
Suppose I never ought to have become his wife
But now I’m with a far more loving fellow
And with him I will know a happier life.
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When the pavements were gleaming with rain,
I walked thru a dingy street
Hurried, harassed,
Thinking of all my problems that never are solved.
Suddenly out of the mist, a flaring gas-jet
Shone from a huddled shop.
I saw thru the bleary window
A mass of playthings:
False-faces hung on strings,
Valentines, paper and tinsel,
Tops of scarlet and green,
Candy, marbles, jacks–
A confusion of color
Pathetically gaudy and cheap.
All of my boyhood
Rushed back.
Once more these things were treasures
Wildly desired.
With covetous eyes I looked again at the marbles,
The precious agates, the pee-wees, the chinies–
Then I passed on.
In the winter dusk,
The pavements were gleaming with rain;
There in the lighted window
I left my boyhood.’