Forgotten dramas and faded pictures

Forgotten dramas and faded pictures
Haunt my thoughts this night.
Hands run through greasy hair,
Tea tastes of tannin.
These things have no place, position,
All dislocated in time, tide and treason.
I move, chimera-like from one backdrop
To the next backdrop,
Learning my lines badly, always
Missing my cues. Each evening
I die. Tomorrow another play.
Fortune favours the brave, but fame
Led to the days of summer.
But I am older now.
Blossom wet, brown, forlorn at my feet.
Damage all done.
Wastage amortized.
Misdemeanours forgiven.
Christmas cards, well meant, heighten
The bad tastes in my mouth, the redness
Of my eyes. The tiredness of my bones.
No tomorrow IS another day.
But tomorrow is tonight.

Birmingham, summer 1989

There's a fever from your foolish brow

There's a fever from your foolish brow,
But it's all right, don't fret.
There's an ache and you don't know why.
But don't worry, something will come.

If there is hope, and the world is real
Then how can you believe anything you feel?
It's all right, don't you cry.

And where the darkest hour lays
There will still be one burning light.
It's all right, don't be frightened.

Time is just a marching sea.
Flowers in the snow is all I think of.
Trembling alone in a sunset sky.
This will not last forever
If you don't want it to be.


Birmingham August 1989 - for anyone in pain.

I'm walking with my eyes closed

I'm walking with my eyes closed
Past railways and bridges
In a city that I'm supposed to love.
I feel blind and detached
And I can hear Joni Mitchell
Singing a survival song.

I'm not grateful to you or anybody.
I could die, or fly away.
I can't even remember your face
Or the way you said goodbye.
But deep in my mind
Where daylight is never found
Is a warmth, a glowing coal
Or a setting sun
Where my spirit will run
Together with someone.

I guess I don't want to see you again,
But I feel the decision's not mine.
With you I felt like a tiger
But the paper's discoloured with time.
When I think of the times we had
The places we saw and walked through,
I can only see them as a movie
Seen on some TV in a lonely room.

I guess I don't want to hear your voice again.
It echoes like in some deep cave.
It's a noise that reminds me of rainfall.
I've cried more that grey skies ever gave.
When I think of the people I've hung out with,
You're just another down the line.
Your feelings were something I cared for
But I can't go on disregarding mine.

Manchester, early 1988 - to RH

Manchester - February 1988

Here in the belly of this city
I cannot see.
I hear, and imagine.
I'm so blind to your beauties,
So asleep to your presence,
So thoughtless about your conscience.

I close my eyes and I can see
Stone buildings
Shrouded in a cold, blunting mist
And my weakness.
Neon burning, and Mr Lowry stalking by.
A view of steam and snow,
Of box grids and girders
And echoes of seawaves.
Stark skytower scraping, grating sun.
Strength, and pain.
Concrete, grey, pain, and acceptance.
Dull acquiescence, from destroyed damp-course
And meccano set block roof.
This is not as it's bigger brother,
A different animal.
A different latitude, maybe.
Maybe I'm learning, maybe it's my attitude.

What do I imagine?
Might have beens, I suppose.
Dancing, dining, discovering.
I have only discovered
Rediscovery.
Complete.

Reasonable

You know it makes me want to cry
So much beauty and so much ugliness.
Essential as bread and water
Eating off each other,
Playfully.

I know, yes I know about my eyes.
So much desolation and so much celebration.
Depth as fathomable as is reasonable.
Like no other,
Feasibly.

The city knows it, the trees know it, the hills know it.
I know it,
Yet why is nature so determinably beautiful?
Why is the weather so irritatingly seasonal?
Why is it my face looks so bloody awful!
And why do I cry when I say something reasonable.

I can feel the stream, entering me, washing through me,
Scouring the dirt and revealing what's underneath.
I can feel myself as an exhibition - people pay to enter,
To look around, to observe.
I can see mountains, like the backs of rested cats.


On Manchester, Summer 1988

Liverpool 1988

Let me float away on your big river.
Let me dissolve into your stonework.
Let me lean on your railings,
Walk your streets
And watch your flow.

Let me watch your ferry on the river.
Let me look at your verdigris birds.
Let me sit on your steps,
Think of your past
And watch people flow.

Fist of Wrought Iron - Clasp of sand

Fist of Wrought Iron - Clasp of sand
Strong as a child, weak in mother's arms.
The terraces, turrets, all blackened with time
Symbolised uplands, comfort and harm.

Rocks, like those which surround me now, fluid,
Cast at an angle, repose for my eyes.

On Edinburgh, Fort William July 1988

Foal, ferret, fickle-fancy.

Foal, ferret, fickle-fancy.
Name on no-one - necromancy
Twittery twist too thrushlike
Salty Sooty. she is stonelike.

Fort William, July 1988

Stilllike

A chocolate box of clouds: Melodies in grey.
Rain; tears waxlike.
Sun, sea, salt, sand: Out for the day.
Vales valleylike.

A sense of rhythm in a song, diluted
By my memories.
Emotions once accepted now disputed.
Time's felonies.

The time for cold, long walks in white.
Tears frozen standstill.
Fireside evening - warm toast, toes, frostbite.
Body sleep, soul vigil.


Fort William, July 1988

Be a Person

Here is a sound
Can you hear it?
Here is a feeling
Can you wear it?
Here is emotion
Can I share it?
And here is devotion
Should I keep it?

Where are my hands
Can you see them?
Where are my tears
Did you drink them?
Can you understand
Why I'm dying?
Where are my fears
Now I need them?

Who was that man
In the darkness?
Who gave that man
Warmth and shelter?
Who said out loud
That I love you?
And who stood out proud
And was falling?

Which path to take
Which to not take?
Which mistake to make
And sink under?
Which dice to throw
Does it matter?
I never know
If I love you.

How can a diamond
Be so ugly?
And how can a man
Be so unkind?
How did you know
I was listening?
Look at the snow
As it's glistening.

There was a time
When I slept well.
Now I can't find
Warmth and shelter.
Each time I cry
No-one's hearing.
Now I will die
For the weekend.

This little pig
Went to market,
This little pig
Stayed at home.
How can it be
That I'm coughing
When I'm supposed to be
The one that's laughing?

For every time
That I see you
I wish that I
Could deceive you.
Now I can see
I was waiting
For you to say
Can I go now.

Out in the park
Trees are swaying.
Here in the dark
I am saying,
"Why must I always
Be alarming."
You say you find it
Often charming.

Here on my lap
Is a postcard
Of a wide open beach,
It's from Marty.
He said the weather
Isn't that bad.
I wish I could
Be a swimmer.


Thirteen times seven
Isn't eighty.
I wish I knew
Why you hate me.
Each time I write
You a letter,
You reply without
Saying thankyou.

My window ledge
Is quite dirty.
I only vacuum
The blue carpets.
Now that my hair
Has been blow-dried,
I cannot go
To a party.

We have all eaten
Well and hearty.
Now I must go
To the toilet.
Coffee is on
Its way, don't fear
We have skimmed milk
And brown sugar.

Violence is
Such a bad thing.
I only kill
What is nothing.
We have no sexual
Inclinations,
But you will find
Us amusing.

Trevor who works
On a bus now
Used to sing songs
At the theatre.
Now when the traffic
Is quite heavy
Policemen are out
Getting stroppy.


Sing me a song
If you would, dear.
I'm going out
To go walking.
Why when the sky
Is a steel grey
Does the pavement beneath
Feel sticky?

Mountains are big
Don't you think so?
The Statue of Liberty
Is in New York.
My socks are from
A well known men's store.
Do you have french toast
For breakfast?

Television is
Quite appalling.
I wish that I
Could stop screaming.
I'd like to wear
Your pyjamas.
I couldn't care
If it rained less.

Chairs can strike quite
Delightful poses.
Life is no
Bed of roses.
Spectacles are
Quite expensive.
I have a space
For an armchair.

People who don't
Ever listen
Are people this world
Can't discipline.
Here in my hands
Is an insect.
I bet that you
Can cook Chinese.


Close both your eyes
And imagine
A shop full of dogs,
Do they bite you?
Sleep is a funny
Way of dancing.
I can only
Be a person.



Birmingham, spring 1987

The Prisoner

The sun pours in through some chance
Against all probability.
This only happens once or twice a year.
This only lasts ten minutes at the most.
This is the only sun he ever sees.
He moves his head.
Briefly, he is uncomfortable.
Briefly, he is sun-blind.
His pale skin burns,
His lips part,
Pleasure breaks through
In the form of a sigh.
Then it is gone.
Damp walls are as before.
Bare bed is returned to
For another year.
He waits for the memory
To repeat itself
Once again.


Birmingham, spring 1987

I don't mind losing a friend

I don't mind losing a friend
If I'm gaining another,
And I don't mind gaining a friend
If I'm losing a lover.

Some people meet and they both find it easy
Even if for different reasons.
But if that difference is greater than the seasons
Then the people must treat each other
With affection
But realise that each is finding their own direction.

Some people touch and they both find it easy
Even if for different reasons.
But if the difference is wider
Than the oceans and seas on
Which we all sail and remember,
Then the people must treat each other as a safe harbour.


Birmingham, spring 1987 - for GR

Deviation

Looking over the Paris skyline, trying to kill some valentine.
Maybe I was wasting my time.
Maybe I was investing in some interesting emotion
Or fuelling a devotion.

Looking over the Birmingham skyline, trying to break the outline.
Maybe I was committing some crime.
Maybe I was exploring. I was deploring emotion
Or disclaiming my devotion.

Looking over the London skyline, trying to hit the headlines.
Maybe I was missing some deadline.
Maybe I was travelling. I was wrestling emotion
Or creating the diversion.

Honestly Mr

Scream
Shout
Give it to me straight.
If you don't give it to me straight
Don't wait
Don't give it to me late.

Rave
Rant
Please be adamant.
I haven't got the patience
To hear out a sycophant.

Scratch
Bite
Just don't be contrite.
You know I haven't got all night.
Fight
Don't doubt you're doing right.

Hit
Spit
Don't give me that shit.
I can well do without it.
I don't doubt a bit
This sentiment isn't your favourite.

Punch
Kick
Try not to make me feel sick.
I'm not thick
And I could do without you being so pedantic.


Birmingham, 1987

Moving Northwards

I'm in the water - floating.
I'm in a boat - am I dreaming?
I see the crowd - arriving.
I can hear the crowd - applauding.

They're applauding for me.
I am important.
I am in the middle of a lake.
It's a clear day
And the vans are driving on the shore.

I am leaving, moving on
But part of me remains,
Dust on the carpets?
Memories of the people
Who no longer know me?
No, they never knew me.

I'm in the field
Below the mansion.
I see the castle.
The trees are warm now.

This is my home.
This is my duvet.
Here it is warm.
Prey, come and join me!

Manchester, 2nd August 1987

[Based on a very vivid dream - I can still remember the make of the vans
driving around the lake shore!]

The One that I Love

I cooked a meal and I threw it away.

Wrote you a letter but I tore it up.
Went to bed but I couldn't sleep.
Went for a walk but I had to turn back.

When someone's in your head
There are many things that are never said.
And when someone's on your mind
The things you feel are hard to define.

When the one that I love is far from me,
When the one that I love doesn't talk to me,
When the one that I love never finds the time,
I wish I could change my mind.

I 'phoned up my mother, but the 'phone's engaged.
I poured me a drink but I can't face another.
I sit in a room full of memories,
I pass the time in a reverie.

In pursuit of indifference I have been.

In pursuit of indifference I have been.

The quest for neutrality has been my scheme.
You're not part of the plan, just part of the dream.
And I'd love to say sorry, but would you know what that means?


In a moment I could tell
There's no real reason to go to hell.
But why be sent to heaven instead?
I suppose it doesn't matter unless you are dead.

For the moment I will wait.
In all probability until it's too late.
There's no way of knowing what the future will hold;
Wet, dry, light or darkening. Black, white, hot or cold.

No Friend of Mine

You're out of your mind,

Do you know that?
I'm not being kind,
Can you see that?
You're wasting my time.
Can you hear me?
You're no friend of mine.


These promises are only strangers
That hate me.
They only placate me.
I only wonder how lowly you rate me
To think you can patronise me!

These lies are only searchers
That find me.
They only remind me
Of how often you try to undermine me.
To think you can sympathise with me!

These words are only daggers
That assist me,
Bring out the sadist in me,
So how are you going to resist me?
To think you could fraternise with me!

What can I do when my analyst doesn't understand me.

What can I do when my analyst doesn't understand me.
What can I do when my dog won't shake hands with me.
What can I do when people look right through me.
And what can I say when old ladies won't talk to me.

I'm walking in circles and scaling extremes.
I'm squaring the circles and following dreams.
I'm fathoming mountains and climbing the lakes.
I'm drifting in the future and making mistakes.

What do I do with the people who care.
What do I do with those people who dare.
What do I do when I've nothing to share.
And what do I feel when I'm never there?

Glass and Concrete

I'm walking through the streets

And wandering in the parks,
Through burning arcades,
Past statuettes and
Under colonnades.

Concrete is my womb
And you are my lifeline.

I'm driving through the rain
And swimming through the fear.
In rotting leaves
I fall and fall
Never hitting earth.

Glass towers are my guardians
And you live in them.

There's mud on the pavement.
There's blood on my hands.
But buried in my head
Are seeds and
Many things sacred.

The crowds are my cover,
The lights, my beacon.
You are in the city.


Birmingham, late 1986