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Come on Everybody

Page 26

by Adrian Mitchell


  May is an orchard bursting with blossoms

  where the bad boys have built

  a shadowy hut made of old doors

  roof and walls camouflaged with slices of turfs

  they may smile and you and promise you surprises

  but don’t go into the shadowy hut

  built by the bad boys.

  June is a dancer in the centre of the city

  as the businesspeople march past in their uniforms

  barking into their voodoophones

  she is the only one who looks the sun in the face

  as she dances her slip-sloppy dance in the fountain

  the big fat sweaty happy dancer who loves the sun.

  July is an exhausted old retriever

  back from a walk on his three good legs

  lying on the cool sofa panting with his tongue

  as his eyes flitter shut and the dreams begin

  of galloping after rabbits down a mountain of bones

  as he sleeps in the arms of his master.

  August is a couple of pale crabs under a green rock

  complaining about the aliens

  with their thudding music and howling voices

  and terrible spades wrecking the sandy lands

  and emptying pools and generally

  upsetting the slow and sideways world

  of a couple of old curmudgeons with claws.

  September is an apple

  in the shaking hands of a young woman

  on a bench in the grass compound

  behind the mental hospital.

  She is afraid to eat the apple.

  She is afraid to put the apple down.

  Because the apple is her mind.

  Because the apple is her heart.

  Because the apple is her life.

  Because the apple is the world.

  She cannot remember the word for apple.

  October is a wood of scarlet and gold

  and an old poet smiling to himself

  as he shuffles through squashy leaves

  remembering only the good days gone by

  remembering beloved people animals and books

  and chuckling inside himself to see

  a party of schoolchildren with clipboards and a teacher

  who has told them to write poems about October.

  November is a bursting bonfire

  of souvenirs going up in smoke

  a bonfire of grasping high-jumping flames

  surrounded by grimy worshippers

  as a thousand stars burst in the gunpowdered sky

  and down inside the belly of the bonfires

  the baked potatoes crackle to each other.

  December is a reindeer travelling

  across hundreds of miles of golden moss

  past the poised pines of dusky forests

  over the frosted mirrors of lakes

  up down and round about blinding snowscape

  to the Snow Queen’s Palace

  where his friend Gerda sits

  with the apple of September in her hands.

  Life Is a Walk Across a Field

  (opposite of the Russian proverb, Life is not a walk across a field,

  which is the last line of Boris Pasternak’s poem ‘Hamlet’)

  Life is a walk across a field

  sometimes a golden dreamdrift of polished petals

  and daisies bouncing among the hummocks of moss

  which guide an infant river sometimes over squashed grass

  sometimes under the spongey turf but sometimes

  the tickling green surface breaks apart underfoot

  and the mouth of the ground gapes

  and the bogdragon swallows down your shins

  your hips your armpits your chin your –

  Life is a walk across a field

  and should you find a milkmaid in one hollow

  with a jug of cider and breasts like summer

  from behind the spectacular oak will steam

  the minotaur, half farmer and half bull

  guffawing as his horns impale you both oh yes

  Life is a walk across the field

  of buttercups and landmines…

  UNDER NEW LABOUR

  That Feeling

  When you sit

  On a chair

  And the chair’s

  Not there

  That’s the feeling I mean –

  That’s the Blair.

  We Bomb Tonight

  (headline in the Evening Standard, London, 17 December 1998)

  ‘deafening explosions reverberated across Baghdad last night’

  ‘City traders reacted calmly to the air strikes, with oil prices and the dollar retreating after yesterday’s sharp gains…’

  me and little sister

  sleeping tight

  hugged in the arms

  of a dark blue night

  I was in a funny dream

  and both of us

  were being driven by a horse

  in a dark blue bus

  then my dream went bang

  night turned day

  little sister

  was vanished away

  and the air was nothing

  but dust and screams

  now I search for little sister

  in all my dreams

  she hides I seek

  but all I have found

  in my dreams is a

  dark blue hole in the ground

  Education Education Education

  Only one reason why I get to school

  it’s a condition of my parole

  chilled a teacher and torched a church

  in the cause of criminological research

  back to the playground I take my stand

  uppers and downers in each hand

  if you don’t like the deal we made

  I’ll unzip your kipper with a rusty blade

  The Druggards

  The druggards lean in corners of the werehouse

  wearing raggerjeans, eight-piece suits,

  little block dresses, corrugated overcoats,

  chins like the prows of model yachts

  mouths like slots for credit cards

  Brains can be such beautiful islands

  but they abandon theirs to the invading

  mute and screaming chemical armies

  for they think the brain is only this

  a hunk of electrified meat

  they imagine life is a boredomboardroomboardgame,

  the soul a stamped-out cigarette

  as they cheat each other and trick each other

  and sneer at the undruggard world

  before plotting a petulant suicide…

  Go Well

  When the last Whale in the whole world

  Was hauled through London on an open lorry

  One million children trudged behind it

  Bearing banners saying Sorry.

  Later the last Horse and the last Dog

  Rolled by upon their funeral carts.

  No children waved Goodbye to them –

  All were in hospital with broken hearts.

  Shaven Heads

  Men in their twenties with shaven heads

  Men in their thirties with shaven heads

  Men in their forties with shaven heads

  They all look alike to me

  Their noses jut out like ruddy rockets

  Their eyeballs bulge out of their sockets

  They smile all the time at people from foreign parts

  To show they are not skinhead racist farts

  But that smile too frequently unzips

  Like a leer and bald heads speak louder than lips

  It must feel so weird when you’re shaving your crop

  Put that razor away grow some sort of a mop

  But don’t overdo it or I shall wail

  Get out of here with your fuzzy pony-tail

  Walldream

  They collected up, in fine
brown nets,

  the coal-coloured rocks on the dark side of the moon.

  Around the limits of London

  in the 28th century

  they built a bulging wall of sootrock

  a wall with blurred outlines

  emitting rays of darkness

  so that anyone approaching the city

  whether explorer or attacker

  became lost in a black fog

  and turned, to stagger, blinking, home.

  But when the wall builders, time travelling,

  visited me last night

  They cried out: ‘Where are the walls we built?

  Where are the Walls of Darkness?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘Your Walls are in the future

  so long as you don’t go too far.

  Otherwise, you’ll find them in the past.’

  Jesus Poems

  Jesus stepped on to the bus,

  ‘Nazareth, please,

  But I don’t have the fare.’

  ‘Bugger off, hippie,’ said the driver

  And was turned, in the flash of a ticket,

  Into a purple hippopotamus.

  *

  Blood oozing

  From his hands feet and side

  Jesus crawled into Casualty

  Late on Good Saturday night.

  ‘Take a number,’ said the desk woman

  ‘It’s urgent,’ he whispered.

  ‘Aw shut up, ye bastard –

  We’re all urgent here.’

  *

  Pilate said ‘What’s Truth?’

  Jesus clicked his fingers like Smokey Robinson

  Out of the floor

  Sprang a bloody great cactus

  Right up Pilate’s jacksie.

  *

  ‘You’re a poor man,’

  Said the squaddy, looking up from his crap game

  ‘Die a poor man’s death.’

  ‘I came not to bring bread

  But a stone,’ mumbled Jesus

  ‘What the hell you blabbing about?’

  ‘I’m a poet.’

  ‘We’ll soon put a stop to that.’

  THE CARNIVAL OF VENUS

  Asymmetrical Love Song

  My love is asymmetrical

  She looks different from every angle

  Some might say she’s a little bit wonky

  But I say – jingle jangle!

  Valances

  (with love to Celia)

  Today is the first day of my life as a domesticated animal

  For I have discovered the meaning of the word valance

  Yes and I have handled two different but similar valances

  And helped to fit those valances appropriately.

  What, you may ask me, is a valance?

  Well the centre of the valance

  Is a sheet upon which nobody lies.

  It is spread on the upper surface of the base of the bed

  On which the sun seldom if ever shines

  And there the centre of the valance becomes

  A sheet for the mattress to repose upon.

  I should hazard that even in the suburban world

  Inhabited by such underlings as

  Doillies, druggets and downtrodden felt,

  The valance centre must be numbered with the humblest.

  Even were it decorated with a gold-embroidered

  Representation of the Signing of the Treaty of Utrecht,

  Or hand-sprinkled with a spiders’ web

  Of luminous paints from Jackson Pollock’s fist

  Or scorched by the impression of the face of the corpse

  Of the great-grandfather of Ian Paisley

  It would be unseen and unacclaimed

  Except by minions whose duties occasionally oblige them

  To change the valances or rearrange the valances.

  (So I was not surprised that the two valances

  Which I handled today, my two first valances,

  Were undecorated in any sense.)

  But it is not the centre of the valance

  Which is at the heart of valancehood

  Any more than it is the underpants of Leonardo da Vinci

  Which inspire our admiration.

  For all around the centre of the valance runs a margin

  And, beyond that margin, a billowing border of linen,

  (The same material of which the centre is composed)

  But slightly ruched all round.

  So, when the mattress is placed upon the valance

  The edges of the valance appear all around the waist of the bed

  Like a short ballet skirt, a modest tutu,

  An edging of wavelets, ready to bear the sleeper

  Over a sea of frills and flounces, to the Land of Furbelow.

  Away

  I went out

  with open hands

  into the strange

  and shaking lands

  I shake my spear

  I shake your hand

  I stretch my smile

  like a rubber band

  is it good to shake

  is it good to be shook

  come on do the earthquake

  and the avalanche book

  I could tell you my name

  but it’s meaningless

  like the clothes on the floor

  when I undress

  call me by any name

  you like to say

  one name for the night

  another for the day

  I’m in a far country

  and travelling’s fun

  but tonight it was bad

  when you cried on the phone

  thousands of miles away

  lies my darling

  she wears my love

  like a silver ring

  Arlo Guthrie, Ray Charles, Willie Nelson,

  Aretha Franklin and Peggy Lee

  they got the voices

  say what I long to say

  and I wish I could be many species of animal

  so I could show how I feel

  I’m a stumbling moose

  I’m a homeless goose

  I’m an unplugged electric eel

  love is like a circle

  it goes round and round

  life is like a spiral

  circling down and down

  death acts very tough

  but he’s silly stuff

  tries to fill us full of fear

  sticks his black iron claw in our ear

  lots of my friends have been dragged down there

  I’ll have to join them eventually

  I plan to float down through the glittering blue

  to rot proudly in their company

  well

  that’s why I’m shaking

  like a six-month pup

  on fireworks night

  all shook up

  A Lucky Family

  (to Helen and Phil)

  Their garden’s a magical

  Welcoming planet

  With plenty of room for

  Roses and daisies

  Men and women like roses

  And children like daisies

  Daisies and roses

  Roses and daisies

  a dream of daisies and roses

  Sometimes they sit and watch from a window

  Sitting and watching from a favourite window

  A little girl watching her father in the garden

  A husband watching his wife in the garden

  A mother watching her children in the garden

  Down the road

  A woman’s trapped

  In a family of terror

  The children are screaming

  Tearing her brain to shreds

  If she takes six pills she may fall asleep

  If she takes ten pills she may have a good dream

  Of life in a lucky family

  Their garden’s a magical

  Welcoming planet

  Which dances through space with


  Roses and daisies

  Men and women like roses

  Children like daisies

  Daisies and roses

  Roses and daisies

  A dream of daisies and roses

  It Still Goes On

  once upon a time when I was out of my mind

  I left three beautiful children behind

  I could not tell them why

  I had to leave or die

  you never saw so much pain

  once upon a time I shot my world apart

  each of my children took a hole in the heart

  so did their mother and so did I

  I had to leave or die

  you never saw so much pain

  you never saw so much pain

  The Arrangements

  The children see their father every week.

  He is not sure what they should do.

  He and their mother find it hard to speak.

  He takes them to the park, the cinema, the zoo.

  Their mother phones their father up to say

  That every Sunday night they’re in distress.

  It tears them up each time he goes away.

  It would be better if he saw them less.

  And he, because he cannot bear their pain, agrees.

  But monthly meetings lead to days of tears.

  And so the visits lessen by degrees

  Until he does not visit them for years.

  Oh but I needed them. They needed me.

  Not to spend time with them was cruel and wrong.

 

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