When I was young, love was a different concept to what it is now.
I once laid down in the grass by Brill Hill ready to tell you
how much I loved you , to declare at the top of my voice
to the clouds streaming past in military order, clean as a whistle, that I
truly could not imagine life without you and not realising for a single minute
as we both sat there, the grass staining our arses
through the cheap childish clothes we wore, breathless and steaming
It used to be so easy to dream of running away,
to throw in the towel and become forgotten quickly in one day.
Leave all behind and always start a new
be a vagabond, a tramp in new clothing, with no expectation from anyone
because they hadn’t got used to you.
Just turn up in a different town one day,
the fresh faced boy on the street, the accent from far away.
Nobody gave a damn because they had no idea,
but they gave a damn when I could not fit in, a ragged detestable man
She rang me in the middle of the night, speech slightly slurred,
scurried, slow drawled, concerned and with heavy patience address.
“I worry about you, I believe you will write yourself to death
one dank and dark December day.”
The hint of concern overflowing and verging on future grief
overwhelmed me briefly and
I paused for thought, after all the hour had not long since departed
three, half a pall bearing team I thought wildly with a wry grin,
I wonder where the other half went, perhaps to make sandwiches, after all
With the pleasantries over, the argument started in earnest
and February shook its small but well rounded
fist at the other eleven members
of the council and stated his intent to see equality achieved that day.
“I still don’t understand why I cannot at least be thirty days long…!”
He boomed in a winter foamed echoing voice
which shook snow from the steadfast Oak and which drifted in a flurry
on to the table carved from a fallen Willow and in which
August exclaimed a serious dislike for.
Mavis “The Shredder” Stockdale always wanted to be a renowned guitarist,
one who could take the simplest of ideas laid down by the songwriter
and burn the opposition to the outskirts of Hell
and leave audiences gasping in the wake of a lover letter placed chord
and suffering the beauty of a well plucked string.
Above all, Mavis knew she could duel banjo, guitar, mandolin and violin,
but with sad reflection not the cello as she had seen a God play with perfection
one night in the Cavern one night, her hair flowing red but shimmering with depth
March stands on the precipice of life and dislikes the view.
The infant King, fawned over, lauded, feted and feared in equal measure,
the tyrant teenage regal monster and the early despot in waiting
rages. His senses coloured, polarised by anger, unhappiness and sorrow,
understands only too well that for all his blustering fury, this is not
what he was meant to be to the people in his shadow.
The blackness of the sky, the rage and fury, the odd measure of calm
in another wise incensed frenzy in which ships shiver in still icy waters ,
…I want to scream, for screaming makes the pain seem less acute
for the briefest of moments and in the end brief respite can surely only be noble.
I should buckle under the weight of it all and prepare my coffin suit
and place my emotional trust in the fall out quality of Chernobyl.
You have been the most faithful of companions, conspiring harridan.
Never wavering in your ability to astound and fuck me over, friend
time and time again, if personified, you would make the most evil of men
We are so sorry to inform you
that we are going to have to close you down and take your licence away
after finding disturbing material on your premises, now be careful what you do
or indeed what you say,
for there is no arguing with the evidence of you supplying hard
karaoke to the citizens of this town,
lethal stuff that would confound the most elegant sounding of any bard
and in which it sounds like cats you are trying to drown.
I charge you with section 101 of the criminal penal act,
She used to only call me when she was drunk,
or in need of some way to be herself,
to flop down on whatever couch or bed
I had in the spare room
for five minutes and allow the weight
of the world to be unfurled and hung out to dry.
When she was drunk I could cope, she was never there for long,
and always courteous to my own need for space.
When she was sober, she would wheedle her way into my head and dare
Our relationship has always been based on the need of one side,
yet today has been calm, composed and full of peace
and I wonder if the positions were reversed, in me would you confide
and I wonder if it should have always been like this, a tranquil release.
I sat back, I relaxed and did nothing but listen to you breathe,
your sincerity of spirit I realise I had kept always out of sight
I had asked you many times silently to leave
but in my head, you talked away unhindered, secretly loved, never used in spite.