does the self obsession
of a celebrity
shifting products in the media
matter more
than the half quiet mutterings
of a vagabond
sat on a bench?
does the self obsession
of a celebrity
shifting products in the media
matter more
than the half quiet mutterings
of a vagabond
sat on a bench?
I never had one job
that wasn’t made shit
fucked up by the people there
you know them
the stay lates to appear important
the grimy gouchers who freeload
steal work off’f you claim it as theirs
sap your time energy goodwill
especially deserving hatred
were the proper lost souls
taking their esteem from their job role
assistant assistant asshat
to the deputy manager for petty cash
those who knew the rules inside out
sucking the life out of any fun
to stop the place being a better place to be
this source of incidentals for your life
free heat free light paper for all
whatever you could scavenge
to make a decent day
when all you wanted was to be
a better person
at home reading writing
thinking about things
being with your lover
being in love with the world
not tethered for 8+hours
tied to machines desks computers
to get money
to live a life
destroyed by the work gap in it
I find difficult the love thing
to be all knowing within situations
understand fully what’s going on
& my hindsight is not 20-20
looking back at how I loved Jane
she could wring all emotions from me
love hate rage jealousy self-pity all on the same day
& I guess I got to learn self-control from this
never wanting another who could build
destroy everything in her self-serving whims
I felt I was giving up sharing secrets
building some kind of intimacy with
the tid bits we hold within away from the light
for her to later use these to demean criticise
& worse reveal to the world to win herself points
those things we keep to ourselves
for fear of mockery shaming in another’s eyes
I had to relearn after her what was hers
what was mine what I could keep for another day
to try to trust with a newer lover build a life
on firmer foundations not on shifty sand
& if letting go was easy we’d all be adrift
lovers would come & go with softer presents
than those of burning bridges sharpened crucifixes
we could look back with happiness
where now sometimes we look back
& all there is to do is offer bitter thanks
for the hard lesson learnt
& cringe
it is all a matter
of where you focus your attention
I knew these people
rel’is if you don’t please
who would come visit look around
see how we lived & sniff
not that we lived in a complete jumble
even broke poets got standards
just that their place was spic n span
while ours always forever
could do it seemed with a dust around
he could code & she could clean
their thoughts seemed to me
to be about exteriors the look
while I was fighting the words for truth
trying to put down a meaningful line
writing training courses for a living
& my girl worked to bring clarity
to people living in the muddy way
who were messing up their lives
we were interior people it seemed
& try as we might
we could never get them to understand
that the examined life is the one
worth living
& they of course
never offered to spring clean for us
we were bone tired
of endless miles on the road
so long we’d stopped talking
there was nothing else to say today
& I pulled in to a mom & pop
side of the road tired 1star French hotel
we looked & took the room
what else were we gonna do?
I washed my face cooled my hands
& we made it down the dark stairs
past the tall brown stuffed bear
looking at sculptures made of spoons
with a ladle mixed in here & there
the food was good served hot & slow
we ate in silent appreciation
still looking at the spoons everywhere
then up past the rotting bear
sitting amongst the wallpapered ceiling
fighting the fleas hovering our feet
sucking on wine in toothmugs
letting in feelings to bring my heart alive
no tv no radio just an open window
& you sitting there worn out beat
head against the pillow half smile
& then the crashing of pots & pans
madame ripping into monsieur hard
we crept to the window to see the show
as a frying pan slid down the kitchen wall
& any thoughts of tomorrow were gone
like today what we needed to would be done
as she screamed again the dauphinoise
missiled past his ears out into the dark
& you know as well as we do
we never found la Maison again
caught sight of the stuffed rotting bear
in the middle of those brown creaky stairs
saw the sculptures of silver spoons
or that over-wallpapered room
nor found out if Monsieur et Madame
got their second honeymoon
but not if they don’t want to hear
you can tell them clear
until your voice becomes hoarse
your face turns puce
the blues have got me today
nailed me to the floor
& you hear them in a smile
say sweetly
oh that’s just not you
have a shower get a shave
pull yourself together move on
to another
I loved you baby
but that feeling is long gone
our paths heading different
it is time to call it a day
& you hear her say
oh its just a rough patch
lets just try over again
& that’s when you realize
who feels who is important here
& who
has to walk away
all kids know for sure
their parents are fools
& I made sure
I had the evidence
just to be clear
listened intent
to their conversations
bordering on the banal
the rough ways they displayed
their ignorance on the world stage
listening to politicians
who were obvious fakes
eyes wide as their lies moved crooked lips
& vowed things were gonna change
when my crowd moved into town
& now
I see the mediocrity curse catching
the slow move to grey suits
trousers some kind of fawn
I hear mi compadres talking
like yesterdays news
is fresh from the pot
worshipping woeshipping celebrities
with nothing fresh to offer
but endorsements
for products we already got
& it’s a slow low scream to the death
when there are no new ideas
ways of being to fix this mess
small puddles of mayhem
created by mediocrity
coming down the pipe
you have to be careful living the right way
because the true path brings you close to
in ever increasing tight contact with
lopers dopers hopheads junkies cheaters
liars no hopers drinkers alkies wetbrains
better than you’ers do gooders dodgers mopers
lowlifers borrowers righteous might’ers
holier than thou’ers preachers leechers
man bites dog’ers fighters god botherers sneakers
no gooders pan handlers vagabonds fake forgetters
& each of these has something
that they can teach you
bring you closer to the real what you can be
but the second they don’t listen
hold you blood tight to you
you have to let them go
as there is always a price to be paid
for being in touch with the living
those out on the edge of this
& if you’re not careful the price
will be you
she would dream of savagery
but never dare to set shod foot outside her door
wanting dancing with demons amongst the dust
with a darker desert race in lust with love
stuck hiding behind her mothers apron strings
& I was but a brute to tell her this straight truth
her wit & wisdom were not mine to compare
she had read watched devoured each morsel
knowing her real life place was to be out there
while I watched waited urged her to prepare
alas alack her visits were never meant to be
instead she married the brave brawn witty postie
as a traveller telling bold tales of other lives was he
could keep her in the manner accustomed
indoors
you can’t help who
you fall in love with
he was fifteen years older than me
we were together for 24 years
had a couple of great kids
& then he died
heart troubles & gone
its ten years now
I use the internet to arrange
& meet men in the coffee shop
I feel it’s a safe place
where I can just blow
if the possible doesn’t work out
I’ve had 30+ cups of coffee
& not one is a possible friend
but they would like intimacy
& that for me
is just not possible right now