For me it’s a middle-aged death
Not become a bore, sore
At my own time and choosing death
At my books and music, gathering weird looks
At the end of the chapter, death
When I get into my mid-sixties
And before the winter of life starts
Keep me from vengeful doctors
Plotting to keep me alive and expecting thanks
In way of tax
For the their benefit
Save me from the worry of children
Leaving children leaving children
At my ever frail thoughts
The tubes feed me familiar words as they feed you life.
I have never met you, I had no awareness of your existence
Until recently and I have seen little of your suffering and strife.
I don’t possess the wit or the talent to write what your life meant in one sentence.
I can measure only in minute amounts your memories by fleeting photograph
On a delicate digital screen, that cumbersome and dishonest
Perverted distorter of your life, which doesn’t show all you have loved and how you laugh,
The greyhound bought me mile and mile ever closer
Home to you. I pictured you waiting by the cinema,
Just below the broken orange light that swings
Violenty
In even the most gentle of breezes.
I picture you there and hope you have forgiven me.
Nobody pays much attention to me, thank god.
If they did, they would see a regretful tear
Drifting slowly down my scared, haggard face.
I take my handkerchief out of my pocket.
My nose catches your scent and I cry some more.
Her wardrobes were full of designer clothes
That she knew she could not afford
Without the help of her credit cards.
Each Friday night a new skirt or dress
To make her latest lover impressed.
Every Sunday she would start afresh
As she realised that the latest one
Was nothing but a bore, not interested
In the long term, just the now and here.
On the shelf at eighteen is a terrible fear.
Her advice came thick and fast
From sex columnists in thousands of mag’s
That littered the floor, discarded
In a tear, a lifetime’s sadness is shown.
In a tear, all manners of images are exposed.
In a tear, life can end.
In a tear, broken hearts mend.
In a smile, friends become lovers.
In a smile, true feelings uncover.
In a smile, people fall for strangers.
In a smile, we face the greatest dangers.
In a laugh, heroes stand tall.
In a laugh, comedians hear the audience call.
In a laugh, there is unity in a nation.
In a laugh, lies love’s greatest potion.
The lonely voice echoes down the multiplex of wires.
Each wire holds her cries for a second before
Passing them on to its neighbour without care.
For what do wires care about the fate of a single tear?
Without effort, I listen as the story falters from one
To the next, I know you need me there to chase away the liars.
“Please insert fifty cents to hear real desperation users.”
Comes a metallic voice full of the joys of spring.
I dare it to bid us, “Have a nice day!”
I saw a photograph of her years ago, stately, beckoning.
I knew she was so much older than me
And that many people, men as well as women had loved
Her beauty as much as I did now. She seemed to symbolise
Everything I ever wanted. I was in love, I was mesmerised.
She was so far away. So for many years I could by dream
Of being with her, my heart ached and my thoughts ranged
To the day when I would say, “It’s me my lady, I made it!