Serious illness

presents
few opportunities
for proud moments
your body is there
to be drained
of blood
other stuffs
for tests
& it feels
like humanity
seeps away
with each
sting of needle
one night
unable to sleep
with dulled pains
from opiates
in a hot noisy room
with an old man
gasping his last
beeping all around
while they fought
him
& with him
to keep him alive
as I lay there
thinking
please
just die
just die
just end
this torment
for you
& me
then I fell asleep
worn by the battle
to wake
& he was gone
except for this
faint trace of guilt

Lazy? moi?

They told me I was lazy
& to be fair on this
there were
times I really
did not give a fuck
about the bullshit
being handed down
most of the time tho’
this was about
I had no space in my head
to put in place
the lessons
they were trying to give
some of it did stick
when I wandered
france
spain
Germany
I could get around
that all came right back
however
the stuff on
precipitation scales
trigonometry
first subjunctive clauses
are still
just words on this page

Girls

Girls with teddy
plush bears
on the stairs
leading to pink bedrooms
beds of many pillows
cushions
what they expected
to play in there
house?
I was wanting
needing
darker things
I wanted to learn
from them
these girly women
with Love Life Home
photo holders
finding instead
a little late
these were clues
to their cluelessness
on the scheme of things
they too were looking
for guidance
tho’ this never stopped
me seeking comfort there
mutual ignorance
is not a solitary thing

Flat

days of drinking
with amateurs
waiting for them
to drop out
of conversations
games
& they will tell you
this is
was
the best time
ever
even as you sense
their reluctance
to return
to that empty stool
in any local bar
not that I don’t enjoy this
as it reminds
taking a friend out
on that first motorcycle mile
stinging the eyes
dishevelling their soul
& opening the possibilities
a future open wide
they will sit
excited
begin to think on
their own ride
you know
there will be few takers
who make
the rainy days
that longer haul
between
amateur
& lifer
As:
their
Mums
Girlfriends
Wives
Boyfriends
‘won’t allow me
To have a motorcycle’

The grrrr is rising

These are not bad people
& would resent
the shit out of you
if suggested
the possibility
even if he does
begin to nod off
after 4 beers
20 minutes into the movie
misses the point
needs to ask questions
on plot
subtleties
at some point
she will
again
again
say the music is too loud
though she shouts at him
at every opportunity
points out
with blue emphasis
how wrong he is
on anything
everything
as from echo distance
I hear his balls shrinking
to raisin dust
the grrrrrr
rises at the back of throat
these are frenemies
now
they do not
no longer
have my best interests at heart
strangers now
where once good friends
but we will puddle along
meeting every now
then
with gap
increasing between times
how else to escape?
the raging row?
a cold revenge of misunderstood?
cowardly loss of phone numbers?
lost details?
better this descent
into
time has got between us
a shallow trench
filled
of once deep bond

Smelly Cat

We’ll call him Rob
‘cos that’s his name
him & his
obscenely obese
fat mrs
pwned
they thought
an office
I was to work in
out in the backstreets
man
they made my life hell
snitching to the boss
telling tales behind my back
all the usual crap
cowards do
when they can’t back
their
bullshit front
up
I left
fuck this shit, eh?
some time later
i’m getting off my Harley
after a long run
out to the boonies
& I see Rob
same time
as he saw me
man
he wheeled around
like a pantomime villain
I roared
it was so funny
& this stung the creep
to the core
he whirled a full 360
thought a second
& crossed to the other
side of the street
I’ve got my eyes on him
still chuckling
& he shouts
across the road
“you smell!”
I call back
(‘cos man y’gotta join in
y’can’t back away from
shits like these)
Is that the best you got?
“well y’do” he limps back
& I laugh some more
this idiot
is a minor local politician
he thinks he is smart
I know he’s a bully
but his stock?
its kids in a playground
ten year old kid stuff
he’s trying to tell
a biker
he smells
& watched
as he slunk away
no doubt
he was thinking
“well, that told him”

Listening to Hendrix

Listening to Hendrix
under the bedsheets
transistor radio
tuned into
radio Luxembourg
with its rising
falling signal
hearing the wave
bringing the sounds
that mattered
motown
with its bright hopes
pop tunes
that brightened mood
every night
listening until sleep
overcame
waking up to dead air
dead batteries
and wondering
if
how
the money would come
to buy more
access
to
Hendrix
Jimi electrified
wilded our moments
while The Doors
frightened
drew pictures of death
titillating us
drawing us near
pushing away
while our girls mooned over Morrison
still
we had 208 to share
Radio Luxembourg
with its old bulb valves
some from days of the reich
sending signals
deep into our dark
waking us from the slumber
of child innocence
come to the party
we got wild music
death
love
and you are not here

Agenda

To survive
you have to have
an agenda
raison d’etre
something
to live by
& for
for far too many
it’s a day to day
a living thru’ thing
& that will
not be enough
never be enough
there are those
hoping
something will arise
occur
these are those
who will get pulled
into stranger orbits
by those
with strong agendas
to find themselves
long after midnight
in strange places
doing things
they really
do not want
to do

Teens

Hitching in the cool dark
from one half dead town
to another
escaping thru’ a window
in my parents home
pushed to seek adventure
from the daily avalanche of grey
following a crowd
down a grimy street
into ‘the speakeasy’
a wall of books
that opened
after a while
after they’d paid
I waited
snuck in behind
a different group
to a smoky night club
I hovered in dark corners
trying to be small
unnoticed
occasional swiping
an abandoned drink
nobody bothered
noticed me
then:
loud music
a tyre screech
‘Al Capones guns don’t argue’
a spotlight on a tiny stage
& a young black guy
danced to the beat
half naked
happy with the spot
& beat
it was fantastic
as he swung
his Thompson gun
to
‘don’t call me scarface’
& all too much
for young eyes
that had to be in school
in the morning
where I sat
twirling my pencil
humming
al capones guns don’t argue
the decision to leave
half dead towns
the older me
had begun

5a.m.

standing in the cold
breath clouding
last words
smokes
before we leave for home
the half lit world
just starting to stir
as we begin
to think of sleep
the night shift
is a hazy world
of in-betweens
never quite getting
the day
living like others
our hazy camaraderie
begins to break
we nod
in deference
to the work we made
stunts we pulled
games played
on each other
in the night before
to get through
the pain
that is working
while our loved
ones sleep
say goodbyes
and
head back
to our homes
rat holes
coffins
never to see
the light
like citizens do.