I am not really into long poems Arthur but this I really understand. I feel
like this about things and do get quite frightened of the world ,of people.
This just about sums up what I am feeling now, I say to my children and
grandchildren that I cannot understand things anymore and seems you are the
same. This poem is a legacy of our time and should be preserved for
posterity, sally
>From: Arthur Seeley <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: WIP
>Date: Thu, 22 Mar 2007 13:53:43 -0000
>
>This is very much a piece in progress. Comments welcome. But be kind. Given
>some of the dreadful news we hear from our streets I find it all quite
>depressing.
>I am making a journey through the hell of our cities and the different
>poetic forms are part of the journey.
>
>In these last years of my long life
>
>I ache to know what wonders will follow
>
>the test and turmoil of this time.
>
>I fear that all will fade or fall away
>
>and believe only a blind and boundless black
>
>awaits me after all this anguish.
>
>The world is worse now than it was
>
>in the lost years of my youth
>
>or so it seems in this my seniority.
>
>Something brighter, better and more beautiful
>
>to moderate the muck of this mad life
>
>must be in store for us sometime soon.
>
> I travel by train through a terrible night
>where dark fields unfold and fall away;
>rain rakes the windows, runs and races off
>into a night where no lights shine
>
>woods, fields and long stone walls
>press close, crowd, career off
>into the black beyond, away behind.
>Grim glow of the city gathers us in
>as the train terminates with a shudder.
>I wait a while for the weather
>to calm before I continue
>to wander the wet streets and dark ways,
>uncertain, on the edges of L.
>
>
>
>Nervous of all things in this dark unknown;
>
>not sure what dreadful terrors dwell
>
>in the shades and shadows where I walk alone
>wondering what are the tales that Vee will tell.
>
>
>
>
>
>I feel alien and apart in this strange town.
>
>That's bad enough, God knows, but in this rain-
>
>well, it would get anybody down.
>
>
>
>Water swirls gurgling down the drain,
>
>wet-backed buildings, grim and stark,
>
>bulk over gloomy streets. I must be insane
>
>
>
>to even dream of visiting L., a place so dark
>
>so graceless, miserable and grey.
>
>From a secret alley, a blackness looms and barks.
>
>
>
>A starving bitch contests my stumbled way.
>
>I recoil and curse her snarling spite
>
>and kick my foot to dismiss the sodden stray.
>
>
>
>Tail-tucked she melts back into the night.
>
>Not looking back I quicken pace
>
>out of the dark and wet, into the halls of light.
>
>
>
>The Mall, still open, our meeting place,
>
>dry and away from that mottled threat
>
>that lurks, elusive, yet to show its face.
>
>
>
>I search the almost empty hall. Not here yet,
>
>and so I sit, hoping the raining will abate;
>
>patiently sit and hope and fret.
>
>
>
>I might have guessed she would be late.
>
>Had it been a pleasant night with stars
>
>I do not think I would have had to wait,
>
>
>
>but now I watch the lights of cars
>
>carve the dark and rain-lashed street,
>
>and yearn for the golden warmth of bars.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>At last! Her familiar fluting voice greets
>
>me and I turn to see Vee's smiling face.
>
>She nods towards the road 'It's raining sheets.'
>
>
>
>'Would you like a drink? I know a place.
>
>It isn't far, we can run. Shan't melt, you know.'
>
>I laugh and nod and hand in hand we race
>
>
>
>out of the Mall and head towards the glow
>
>of a nearby pub. 'The Lamb and Lion' creaks
>
>in a sudden wintry blow.
>
>
>
> She pushes in, looks around, then speaks,
>
>'Chardonnay for me, with soda and no ice'.
>
>She turns away and sniffs 'What freaks.'
>
>
>
> 'O come. That's hardly fair', I chide, 'Not really nice.'
>
>'Well, see for yourself.' She sneers, 'I'll wait.
>
>I told you what to expect, I told you twice.
>
>
>
>Read my letters. It's all there. Why remonstrate
>
>with me?' I take her hand 'O, come now, that's enough.
>
>I came to see for myself, Vee, don't get in a state.
>
>
>
>I do not doubt your words, I know the place is rough.'
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> I peer through the smoke and fug
>
>and spot a grizzled ugly mug,
>
>food crammed in the crater of his gob.
>
>I watch the ancient unshaved slob
>
>bite from his pie, two huge chunks,
>
>then quick as a blink, he dunks
>
>the rest into his pint and swirls
>
>it round, grins at some giggling girls
>
>and rams the sodden remnant deep
>
>with the other masticated heap
>
>that tumbles round his toothless maw.
>
>Bits and pieces spill from the corners of his jaw
>
>he makes it clear for all to see
>
>just what it is he's having for his tea.
>
>
>
>
>
> A scrawny scrubber, matte-masked and hollow-eyed
>
>sits beside him at the bar, tight skirts slide
>
>over skinny legs and knees, black eyes glitter
>
>as she sips her whisky and chases it with bitter.
>
>She searches faces as a dog seeks its bone.
>
>Will she find herself a feller or walk away alone?
>
> Her mate, encased in faux leopard skin,
>
>downs her G and T and gets another in.
>
>Her fat breasts jiggle in their sheath
>
>hint at the jellied bulks that bulge beneath.
>
>The ragged- rouged and raddled slash
>
>of mouth gabbles under a faint 'tache.
>
>No one heeds this prowling pair of spavined tarts
>
>except the ancient guzzler who smiles and farts.
>
>
>
>In the pool room a sullen pack of louts
>
>assault the air with cursed profanities
>
>their hoots and cat-calls, foul-mouthed bawdy shouts
>
>do not perturb, for such depravities
>
>are commonplace, acceptable it seems.
>
>If they argue amongst themselves, so what?
>
>So be it. For in this place no one dreams
>
>of interfering with that raucous lot.
>
>Someone kicks the silent juke box into life
>
>and dissonant rap augments the violent row.
>
>Cacophony rules OK! Sudden strife
>
>erupts, a body falls and bleeds there now.
>
>The landlord rouses, puts his glass aside
>
>'Now, that's enough, lads. Take your noise outside.'
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>The long straight road locks into a roundabout
>
>And then the inner city ring road.
>
>Cars hiss pass on the wet roads
>
>circle and leave, intertwine like sharks at feed
>
>a glimmering frenzy of hissing traffic.
>
>The place is well lit, high posts with
>
>glaring sodium lamps bathes all with a strange light,
>
>where colours change, go black, mutate to other shades
>
>beyond the clean white light of day
>
>We go down the steps beneath it all, into an underpass,
>
>with kicked out lights and only the beckon
>
>and promise of a distant arch of orange light to guide us.
>
> Coarse graffiti writhes
>
> slashes across the walls.
>
> 'SPADA' in vivid blocks,
>
> Or 'YETTo', faux 3-d,
>
> the scrawled invitations
>
> to partake,
>
> in black felt tip;
>
> the lurid poster torn
>
> and ragged-tongued
>
> appeals for attendance at
>a gig
>
> where noise and light will
>obliterate,
>
> 'Manic Priests . For one
>night only.'
>
>
>
>In the shadows a bundle twitches and sits up;
>
>a piece of jetsam, coughs and wretches,
>
>turns away from the intrusion of our shadows
>
>shuns our averted consciences and eyes
>
>to plunge back once more into his dark river of dreams.
>
>
>
>Crumpled and cast away, this piece of litter,
>
>blown by what winds into the underpass
>
>shifts in its cocoon of once-pink blankets
>
>its moans stifled by the night and a crooked arm.
>
>
>
>'That's unusual' whispers Vee
>
>'normally there are two or three'.
>
>
>
>A scuff of trainers behind us and we turn to see
>
>two slender shapes unsexed, vaporous and wraith
>
>against a back light that burns all detail blind
>
>they pause, hang like hawks, black against the glare
>
>
>
>then thrust their long shadows into the half-light
>
>of the underpass and sidle in.-'Let's go'.Vee tugs my arm
>
>and we leave the dark throat of the tunnel
>
>to swallow their threat and mount towards the flats.
>
>
>
>The inner ring road bustles past, through cuttings
>
>deep smooth concrete sides that steer the traffic
>
>through underpasses, tunnels it back into the night
>
>while above the roar and hiss, the flats rear.
>
>
>
>They call this place 'The Walls.'
>
>
>
> It doesn't matter what the weather is like outside
>
> there is a draught that mutters along these
>lightless passages and up the flights
>of stairs that are pitched in gloom and wedged
> with shadows.
> Dust descends where a muddle of feathers rots and
>the purple lump of the decaying squab, beak still
>gawping, serves a pulsing knot of maggots
>that unravel its web of brief life.
> All who live here are guttural and stiff-tongued.
>
> The rank air threatens and stultifies speech,
>stilts words till they shift meaning; barked curses and
>screams are the only remnants of any coherence.
> These bulked buildings loom over streets, where
>the wail of sirens
>
> bodes, where night coils and envelops. Light spews
>over wet ways, a bovine piss clatters against the privy of a
>wall, a bawled obscenity pursues
>as the pack bays. Someone coughs and bleeds.
> Distant shouts, derisive as a donkey's bray, echo down dark canyons
> where life grows cold and fetid as old bibles in dank
>cellars.
> The valleys of the night are littered with this
>debris,
>
> ragged wads of shade that merge, coagulate to a
>thicker dark, to tear comfort from each other's arms, tangle
>and forget, as the night bird sings to their flutes
>of subdued laughter and tunes of lust.
>
> Leave then and but turn once to look back at the
>glow
>
> of blind windows where shades drift and move away.
>On one window ledge a broken teddy winks; across the curtain
>a man's shape raises a shadow hand then fades into
>the light. A yelp and whimper scars the silence.
>
>Windows shuttered with boards.
>
>Wind bowls hoops of leaves down the
>
>empty playground; chases beer cans into corners.
>
>Pale and hunched someone pukes a childhood
>
>he detests against the grimy wall.
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> I will tell now of a generation lost,
>
> who have fallen headlong into the pits of night;
>
> who live with unlit hearts;
>
> who dream in skips and alleys, inured to the stench and cold,
>wet and soiled; stinking of shit, their own and other's, sleeping with
>other's trash;
>
> who thieve to live, rob parents and brothers, sisters and
>wives, sell self and sanity for the price of a one-way ticket down the
>stream of dreams, to the land beyond food, beyond words, drifting towards
>eternity and an endless night, gladly embracing it;
>
> who think in mobilese and logographic inanities, display the
>slick crap and rubbish, burnt from young brown backs in shanty factories
>and jerry-built lean-to's in distant lands, sold here for blood and top
>dollar;
>
> who are I-podulated from reality and sail through life with
>bared belly and pierced personality, with rolled mag and pin-cushion arm,
>ears full of cacophony and a head full of air and fruitless dreams;
>
> who, strut and ape a hollow manhood, that kick the shit out
>of fags for a laugh wiv their mates, innit, demand respect, give none,
>packing his demands snug to his ribs, street soldier he, cold and hard;
>
> who destroy a child for some hot indulgence of a dark
>inexplicable lust, a life unbegun destroyed for a selfish moment's
>gratification, little bugger was asking for it anyway;
>
> who, with the Bigger and Bigger Macs and milk shake slurping,
>spill out of their jeans, Venus in tight Jeans, sheer sheened buttocks and
>buttress- breasted;
>
> who, callow yet savvy, child yet streetwise, are little
>wannabe wags, miss gonnabe slags, with the stiff rouged mouth, aping slebs
>with clay feet and mud for morals, autobiographies at 18, about unlived
>lives, lives unfulfilled, desperate to be rid of a childhood that missed
>them by miles, their song unsung;
>
> who look for love where there is no love only a counterfeit
>that magazines vaunt and manipulate, promise, tease and destroy, chuck out
>like empty greasy boxes from last night's take-aways and left in brimming
>bins;
>
> who are yesterday's sensation, picked at, pecked and pawed by
>hacks, last year's exclusive of love contrived and temporary, lerv that
>rattled round the top twenty; love fingered and chewed over, degraded for a
>fast buck; love flicked like a handful of snot against the mossed walls of
>night;
>
> who are disconnected and disappointed, bewildered and bereft,
>that it didn't quite work out, somehow they got it wrong;
>
> who live the life intemperate, the life dissolute, the life
>alienated, binged and vomited, brief and fluttering, grubby and despoiled,
>long lost real lives, clean and half-lived, exchanged for a corrupt valuta,
>a worthless coin unfit to cover dead eyes;
>
> who live out lives of failed dawns, of faltering springs, of
>blossoms trodden into winter mud, lives snuffed out like spent candles,
>lives unvalued;
>
> who know only lives that have dull eyes and screwed-on smiles,
>eyes that burn with tears, blind with ruined hope and beyond the eyes,
>beyond the wide white everlasting smile, the animal cry of pain, wrung and
>shrill, echoing behind the grill of smiling teeth, never quite
>understanding why, never even asking why, only the desperation of how;
>
> who I met one day between the market stalls where he loped
>with the soft pad of unshod feet, stooped low, he drifted past me, silent
>and swift, the fierce, rank animal reek of him wafted over me as I stepped
>to one side to let him pass. Others shrank away, stilled in disbelief;
>
> lean as a stick,
>
> pale as winter sunlight,
>
> his shag of fair hair,
>
> a matted shock,
>
> fell forward over wild eyes. He gave one feral snarl of terror
>and warning that parted the people ahead. A hand of uncut nails clutched
>stripped chicken bones against his grubby jeans, ragged to the calves.
>
> Lycanthrope. Discard.
>
> He melted into the shadows; became gossip, legend,
>myth.
>
>
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