when I’m 70
I intend to write poems
that reflect a life well lived
with some regrets
half hidden humour
about how our plans
are just that
there will be tears fears
catastrophes
hints about illnesses overcome
love sex lust failure
with some wins
enough to provide
energy to go on
no tips advice motivational speeches
on how to live your life
tho’ there will be maps
here be traps the dragons
potholes in the road
on a map a road
you can never
walk upon
hiding & listening
is what we learned to do
brought up
not to ask questions
of people older than you
we’d hide under the table
as the beer flowed
the talk became free
gossip got sung
on money owed
who’d been doing things
out of the light of day
these strangers
I rarely saw heard speak
hiding & listening
there at their feet
getting understanding
why they hated each other so
none better than the other
just united by blood
the news they brought
came in pieces
incremental
designed by a lesser mind
in hope to enrage
& I could see the play
coming from a long way away
wanting nothing from me
but violence to another
that they could not do
no pay no offers
just I’d like you to hurt
fuck them up a bit
& I was looking for the label
some hint about my attire
that this lover of words
fun times the women
could be
a gun for hire
do you ever see…?
he asks sly
knowing the answer
not for some time
I reply
one of those who got away
with a grim smile
him knowing
that’s not all
I got other feelings
hidden under that disguise
might take me a while
to bubble up
let go
with company such as his
wanting me to give
while he keeps
his inside
these boys
I see strutting the street
believing in brotherhood
hanging together
putting on patches
as the water gets warmer
& before they know
will be
having to put on a show
not be who they were
but who they wanna be
the dues getting collected
get bigger harder tougher
ramping over a short time
& before long the numbers
were not what they were
the attention starts to hurt
& then they will wonder
who chose
this direction to go?
something Che taught me early on
always use the enemy
as the main source of supply
great guerrilla tips no1
& I’d shave a minute here
take 5 there
goof around on the bosses time
use their phone to schedule
trips to the doctor dentists
put my claim in hours allowed
pencils paper copying
to get my words down out
& then I noticed
people I called friends
using my phone paper pens
couch shitter place to eat drink
giving nothing back
& realised they knew
tip No1 & that
I was the enemy
now
I had a week to wait between rooms
& my friend wanting to help said
come sit with me in the truck
& there we were doing nights
roaming the empty country
out the door at ten pm running until six of dawn
back to his for seven
I’d take a walk do some thinking
sleep on a bench
do anything fill the hours
& he said this can’t go on come sleep on the floor
but
I’d see her face as she saw mine
knew it would only be a matter of time
I had three days there getting the needed rest
until I knew what was coming
I know it’s hard friend but I thinks it’s for the best
if you go back to the bench
she’s starting to fret upsetting my calm
& thankfully there was
just one more night sitting in the dark
then I could move into my new rooms
put the whole thing down to adventure
get some hard-won sleep
living down by the creek
we bought this old mobile home
seen better days
parked it behind the old building
out of sight of the people
or so we thought
no heating no water no toilet
but we were young
did not need much
& the ladies still found us
wanted to stay the nights
until winter came
& then they wanted us
to come visit them
then the authorities issued orders
because the man
always stops the fun
we had to tear it down
sell the metal for scrap
build a trailer from the base
to sell on get some cash back
& find new places to live
thankfully warmer
with water and comforts
but so much less fun
I could hear
the piano music playing
slow soft descant
in the background
if not the tune
which is unusual
if you’re outdoors
by a lake
knowing
these moments
would be gone forever
soon
so I drank them in
to a starving man
fragments froth
taste like nectar
while waiting
for the words
to be said
& when that was over
trust me
I knew that tune
sure didn’t start that way
my girl taking her aged mother
to the dentist the doctor
picking up from hospitals
worrying over her ill health
her now finite future
& I don’t have these things
to fret over
my parents being long gone
not part of my life for so long
& I wanted back when I was young
somebody steadfast there to love
to feel their arms care for me
the lack of I felt as burden
but now see as a blessing
to not have to carry them
into their finite future
neilbenbow 