= SHIPMAN MEMORIAL = Dawn arriving, a blushing bride the lakeside gleams as we arrive driven by night, too sick to fly shutters rise, 'come inside'. I'll end in a third country they speak of nembutal they're going to spare me years of disco daycare and armchair pogo-dancing you can make like it's 1950 ticker-tape for each prince of thieves take the bribe, pay the bribe grey mohicans and lame jihadis off to Shipman Memorial intermission lives dirty old mannish boy speaks at length of redeeming toil you made no babies and not much cash so eyes ahead as we plough you flat but you must keep breathing you owe the nation this the fruits of your misfortune must be shared by dukes and pimps of great distinction You can make like it's 1950 health cover by the hounds of hell take the bribe, pay the bribe infant saints and cardboard tombstones let's to Shipman Memorial no more sell and buy heifer-faced Etonians and Ivy Leaguers they're never gone for long they'll steal what's left of every dream and close the ports so we can't cut out cleanly You can make like it's 1950 but you can't make us stick around keep the bribe, there's no more bribe making room for the cheaper labour off to Shipman Memorial put the pain aside ============================= === SULTAN OF COLTAN COUNTY ===== as we lie down at slumbertime feet encased in concrete Kamchatka ship canal your waters taste sweet once we were golden check our demeanour picture us younger, carefree, leaner had a mansion set in grounds, bought for a dog's ransom. I was elected 7 times, officiated, glad-handed Coffers were open all boats were floating the plain people kicked me out I was restored to office by the corporate commandants they would tell me when to have a shave or a hair-transplant ruin was prevented shoplifters sentenced roads kept their surface but history was against us It's been some time since war could bind a ruptured tribe they made me try as we lie down at slumbertime feet encased in concrete Lagos to Petersburg mass ccres come cheap once there was one war then twenty-score wars we drove in high cars to sumptuous breast bars we all know how bad it went, how the desert ants bit us in their thousands and their tens, ghost-like, godly, vicious waiting at headquarters dawn's cool upon us last of the Chinese gold and the men who gave the word have compounds in the Dakotas no fine scenery for us, it's Kinshasa, sub rosa wandering minstrels keeping it simple new names, no children hired helpers' eyes twinkle the way she gleamed at seventeen that picture falls from a burning wall as we lie down at slumbertime feet encased in concrete Kamchatka ship canal your waters taste sweet yes, there were shackles drenched heads in cotton force-fed them pig meat spoiled them all rotten on a dirt track, in the pitch black, ransom-seekers on our heels all who nurtured us and loved us clenched in rubble, pulp on steel (the way she gleamed at 17 from points unseen four dusty hands grab hold of me) ======================= == HEMISPHERE == Twelve-storey freighter with its deck ablaze bound for a jetty from where old men gaze no sirens, no questions Off on my journey with the life I've led car-circled islands where the conscripts begged neath hills where where comfort basked tract homes now weed and ash supper's ready, super-ready sun hits the towers in the hemisphere day has come, give a mighty cheer you will have your answer you will have your answer now you're a creature of the barren wastes no consulate and no escape nature decides and sheds no tears talk loud til midday, last night's sackcloth worn teeth and applause as a switch is thrown next backyard, sceen door barred off on my journey with the things I've been teeth and applause from an airport screen what harm if this time I crash case settled in one one final flash, we stayed faithful, the years semi-gainful sun hits the towers in the hemisphere smashed empty towers from which birds appear continents divide us emptiness won't hide us made me a creature of the midday cloud white glare of dawn winds the sky a shroud wind changes, now all we've said must freeze all through the mall-filled valleys the cartels ran the bulls no more cards of platinum they came for lives not goods twelve-storey freighter with its guts on fire lights up this harbour as the day expires gone gentle to pirate rental sit face to face, nightfall number two sickbed and dayjob gutting me and you short sleeve and open plan they printed flags for the cola stands opined and hurried soon dead and buried sun sets on towers in the hemisphere day has gone, but its strain's still here when we have our answer iwill it be time for cancer? we trusted a backdrop which was blown away now behold your endless twilit stage a toiling mass divides and disappears ======================= == ALPHADENA == there is a mansion out there in the trees where colonial gentry took pleasure they tamed land and serf with equestrian poise the chairman's arriving on his 4-wheeled perch then come advocates, frowning then those with ghosts in their eyes Are you learning? Are you learning yet? what did you say, when he touched you? speak up, louder, no coaching... short recess, no leeching press this is how we make redress Blighty left us bereft so we sent forth witch-doctors and peasant children were blessed are you learning? are you learning yet? You gave use your lingo and war we gave dreamer sons, some had flaws. The Romans are laughing, you know and refusing to pay up or go. now names have been uttered and cash may change hands after more letters and hearings Back to John Bull's Skid Row with you Are you learning? Are you learning yet? Are you learning? Are you learning yet? ======================== == THE EXAMINED LIFE (A Resident's Testament) == Battleships cruise on the polar sea smoke machines made the tundra green smoke machines we stoked for wonder and gain Same TV, same things to buy, work to do, roads to drive, no taxes here, just pay one time for your claim. Mary Anne is sleeping, self-help book in her hand, she rarely leaves her sickbed but she sees we understand the examined life the ever-questioned life the breathing-mindful life for which we've scalped and crucified the examined life must be serene and light so that we can deny the salty flood, the endless looming night Children don't you fear, just grow and play fill those minds with the light of day keep your handshakes light, no joking or dread ladder of wood on the creekbed side in baking sun, the mud caked dry a withered flag fastened onto its head as I go to tend to salvage make amends for who I am candles for my lady and a bowl of marjoram for the examined life the righteous, fragrant life the dancing shadows strike bring high-speed cables, tungsten lights and the examined life will not compromise from dusk the land's alive with wolves and serpents, ghostly tribes the examined life will not compromise the examined life, on any soil, will thrive and rise ===================== == BEST SAY WE"RE NOT SEROUS == Bad news, bad news, I never heard the like of this grevious, brutal deed though I of course was miles away, on the rock 'n' roll stage in Leeds. That Mick from TV and his secret lady down Lovers' Lane did bleed. The abandoned road to to the aerodrome was a lonely place, I hear, but nice to find when you've rutting on your mind and a hotel is too dear, though of course I wouldn't know, it was 50 years ago, and as I say I was nowhere near. It was 50 years ago, and the record does not show why my knighthood is supposed to pay ask about the 'Hounslow Wall Of Sound'. With my pants about my shins, and a genius in my skin, and his drivel on my shoulder-blades. Legends thrive on common crimes, so I have found, unseen, unbound, on bloodied ground. Best say we're not serious. Bad news, bad news, the devil gets his due, and the living rise to leave. Traded drapes for Beatle suits, then the flares and platform boots, held the door for Mrs T. I learned to tell jokes, answer Questions Of Sport, I would run for charity. I recall one happy day, with its RAF display, near a legendary carriageway, covered now in moss and 10-foot weeds. And if those trees began to talk, oh perish the thought, think what lawyers I would have to pay. At least I never multiplied - the self denied a craftsman's pride personified best say we're not serious. So the maestro went to jail, and the Sunday papers railed 'entertainers prey upon the young'. And to us, his powdered tricks, came the guffaws and the bricks and the tax bills and the bottom rung. Anyone would snap, saddled with the like of that, but I jumped at any work they gave, although sometimes not too calm. Gin and pills were in command and the weekend lasted 7 days. Now I'm more than eking out so they ask me to recount scruffy journalists with hostile airs: plans of seating, B-sides, laundry tags And they hate me for my wealth and for keeping to myself the 'good things', meaning very bad You just bought the ticket, folks, I own the show. I can say no Away you go - best say we're not serious. ===================== == RANCHO TETRAHEDRON #2 == Endless summer and the rising tide incoming ocean brushes all aside highways, fairways and driveways drown, they've sent the coastguard to the well-armed hill towns to those who matter, there's no need to frown, we're agile and unbound bought up some tricolours, some stars, some stripes to give us universal squatters' rights we'll get our bandwidth from a failed-state source we'll film in Asia, on its thawing northeast coast a team of experts in a leaky boat couldn't somebody die so we do have a show? must they all have degrees? can't they wear fewer clothes? someone must win, the spotlights must spin couldn't somebody die? come on let's have a vote conflagration and suicide cults are scope what do you mean the show won't be seen? it still works for me contestants battle with the melting ice 3D action streaming day and night we'll advertise the best of our new home shamanic resorts, selling local gemstones no more elections, just sports and phones couldn't somebody die? that's the least they could do celebrating their lives, now those lives are all screwed all fictions are true there's nothing to lose couldn't somebody die? we must hire a new staff the kind that won't whimper at everyday facts purpose will come as we interact! silicon can't die and therefore why would I? ========================= == THE FROND-SELLER == He came home with a bullet in his neck and some sandy old boots, nothing more, an accident of birth, with a wasteland of defeat for its home. no gold, no empire now, no spire or sea wall stands Lawyers pull rickshaws here or stick labels onto cans Water of life, flame at death, wealth and learning passes. Come make your choice, do you starve or bet on this common ground of ashes? Here's a job for you, soldier boy, (at the) Temple of Heavenly Grace, down by the silent factories the last full house in that place. Aged 12, she casts quite a spell, that Virgin Visionary, palm branches line her path, charge them 89 cents apiece. Water of life, smashed canteen, she heals whome'er she passes. on the salvaged lives, klieg lights gleam on this common ground of ashes. They took him overseas to serve the Virgin's devotees, Russians, Chinese... though the planes now seldom flew and the ships were dank and rusty, with slaves for crew. Town halls, football stadiums and all, how the faithful did boggle and swoon, and down the cash did rain through the humid white nights of June. He slept in the equipment truck, quite sober, snug and sound, each night a little girl or boy having buried in their native ground. Water of life, drink or float, the current swift and painless. We would swim for shore but it's gone for good, like the waking dream of the blameless Water of life, flame at death, health and beauty passes. But the Virgin's real, as we like to jest, on this common ground some mortal freedoms at our hunger's end let all those statues dance and breathe and sing. ================ == TERYLENE GHOSTS IN THE SUNSHINE === And I'm out here in this new bit of California which used to be in Siberia working on a TV film set in what they call the Old West. And the doctors say I don't have long so I'm laying into the Jack and the Jameson in my modest trailer, such as came once from Michigan with a full glass all day, polishing my replica six gun And I sometimes think of the strange sights I saw, in the sandy wastes which are now inundated and policed from oil rigs off the coastline of a private estate 3.000 miles wide the many wanton visions the terylene ghosts in the sunshine I saw the signatories to the 1916 Proclamation emerging in a grave and overcoated group from a small crematorium chapel in Inglewood. I saw Seamus Ennis walking briskly, a bit hammered, porter stains spoiling his white shirt collar's drama into the traffic on La Cienaga at noon or after, traffic and road now lost in the one disaster And the mansion I had in Topanga Canyon and the lustrous women I had there One time I saw the River Shannon flowing across the Mojave Desert, and I out there in my love-beads and buckskin kaftan gallivanting like Carlos Castaneda. On my days off, I walk about the new city they've built, behind their 'tundra shield'. Passing a dive bar near the navy base, I heard Darach O Cathain sing, 'Oro se do bheatha abhaile', and saw Seosamh O Heanai conferring gravely with a Japanese pastor in the vestibule of a Lutheran church (made of sky blue corrgated iron) they say it's beautiful here in spring, now that the snow is gone forever, and the 2 teams of mercenaries comprised of the same few hapless nationalities now that the two teams of mercenaries are blowing each other to terylene next spring, I'll bet there will be a battlefield bloom like in Flanders in 1919, everything reborn one more time, terylene ghosts in the sunshine. I think I'll live for that maybe one of the runners would be able to find me some peyote? ===================== == AVAIL == In the New Western Zone, sniper fire is unknown here is plump silicone and a gingham cellphone. Spotlit breasts, crystal meth, slam the glass, be a mess. You are home, more or less, give or take an ocean's neck. here is the treasure your scars have saved avail, avail the midway lined, every hat upraised avail, avail shop floor light, glossy white packages of delight tinsel glint, roller rink, motion-blurred candy stripes, theme-park street, cocktail hour, spread your Vicodin power, so your fractures don't flower, (as) by the sour air you're scoured signs in the sky read 'we will prevail' avail, avail below the gables, it's all for sale avail, avail Half in this world, half in the next you can't be too brave or too far west who are these clowns? why so at ease? I've seen the guts of this whole century Half in one world, sunkissed and planned, Half in the next, where plans turn to sand. half in this world, half in his next, until the bear-claw reaches that thing which pumps out his chest. Now it's near 5am and you're conscious again. short of breath, but not dead like that girl on your bed And the taxi drives slow, big green plane set to go, Asiatics airside in the firing-squad glow Precincts of glass they would dare bestride avail, avail ecstatic smiles and opium eyes avail The nourishment in each settled score avail, avail the ashen heart of the graphite orb avail. ===================== == MR BIB'S SAORSTÁT STAR TIME (THE SUFFERING OF THE ENGLISH #2: THE IRISH) == "This fool is your father" she held up the baby to see, her pretty red ringlets now dull as her eyes in a room semi-rented, in a state born to lie Mr Bib is from Breslau his name was truncated at sea. His hands are unsteady, he stands bashfully to Ireland he came in 1933. And the crowds in white shirtsleeves and sad floral prints pay out their pence and their shillings the secular glamour makes aldermen flinch he's the midwife at stardom's beginnings Tenors and acrobats, step-dancers, mimes, Mr Bib's Saorstát Star Time Beauty-queens, strongmen, five-girl chorus-lines, Mr Bib's wagon of sunshine. We might picture what happened in his digs in Bundoran one June, which has left him now red-faced, in Youghal by the sea, as his firstborn commences to wail mournfully 'Be quiet, the both of you, why must you gripe? your bellies are full, why be bitter?' she said, 'I'm worth better, you cringing wee shite', so he picks up the poker to hit her. The big disappearance on everyone's lips Mr Bib's Saorstát Star Time. Off to the boat train in disguise he slips, Mr Bib, still making headlines. A man with a baby - refugees, maybe? on Holyhead Pier in the rain. A man who is shameless need never go stateless in Silesia or in Spain. Muswell Hill, 1960 Brady's the name at this time. He's vague on the details but nobody minds. They've tears of their own which they drink til they're blind. And there are always new drinkers, more gone than the last, each with disasters unfinished, as if launched from their homeland to bolster and craft the suffering of the English. Radio Éireann and the Sunday Press praise Mr Bib's Saorstát Star Time 'cos it's wholesome and cultured, with a small hint of sex, Mr Bib's Saorstát Start Time The Anglian coastline in erosion's dead hold gives up its secrets for pennies a smashed clifftop hotel Ark of North Sea Scrolls of terse, bizarre sagas he reads many ===================== == FREE PARACHUTIST == Soon, no hands, on high tiptoe, wave to the dawn, and off we go. This terrace wedged on face of rock, no ledge there his way to block I just received your letter still the anger fresh and deep from the far-off happy country with its kindness so unique. Did you thnk I might impress you? Did you think I migiht have changed, embraced all we rejected, with our glasses charged and raised? In mid-air, do you think he woke? maybe just an idle hope. The treeline came at jetplane speed the good earth itself revealed. Now our words proceed to mock us send a phrase, no time to speak while the distance and the tarmac are never shocked or weak. They know their strength and purpose he and I mocked both of those but we filled that space with nothing and that's why we fail and go.