I remember the day
when we went out
for a drink

or two

I remember it so vividly
in this old box of mine
that rests wearily
upon my shoulders

I recall taking you back to work
                
                                   "I'll pick you up at eight"
                                                                I said to you

I did

Then of course
we called up the old gang
you and I
and went in search
of mayhem
loose women
and looser talk

Not much on the former, eh, o' buddy o' mine

Oh no, but plenty of the latter
which is usually
the case

You had just been introduced
to a **** cider
that you gulped like a drowning musk rat
then you were sick
and we called out
the
staff
                                    who hurried and hustled
                                    with a bucket of their finest
                                                                          tap water

I watched in hysterics
as I patted your back
and watched the street lights
as they made your innards glisten

                                                     AND THE SHINE!

Oh, that perfect
shine
as the water washed away your remains

Poetic foreshadowing I am afraid, mate
as a bucket called Cadillac
washed up your remains
many years later
over the asphalt

                                                 AND THE SHINE!

Oh, that perfect shine
that a once pure immaculate light that was your enduring spirit
had waned
long before the wax melted.

So you did the ***** tonk
and I did the shoulder shuffle
driving down boulevards
laughing and singing
and trying to find our place
in each others heads

Little did we know
that our words would slice
your face always susceptible
to the tone of my voice

storming out of restaurants
and smashing paintings
of your lovers who were charming

your clothes on the floor
my boxers round your waist
we'd find a common ground
in our anger at the world
and of each other

It was and is
a despicable love
and I wouldn't trade it
for the insincerity of comfort
that so many others have

We shall watch them all rot
at their very cores
passions drilled out of them
as they seep into their settees
while we wear rotten skin
and shine from the core.

That is the equity of love.
and I will adore you
for a very long time
or until my mind dilapidates.

Try to take
a picture
of dust floating
in the bare naked
stream of light
that dances through
the blinds

Try to take the elation
and despair
and all the auras of
thought
from the innards
of your mind
and graciously
ever so graciously
try to put them
on paper

I bet you can't

I bet no one can

Not with the same
life
and flow
that the natural world
and your busy mind
can do
within seconds
moments
glimpses
and fleeting chances

No snare trap can capture pure beauty
and I will never try
well
not honestly anyway.

The soup bowl
sits on the table
under a soft glare
of light

It sits there
on the table
unthinking
unloving
unloved

Look, said I to the soup
I understand

And I did
understand
more than that soup bowl will ever know.

The glass grates
against my teeth

The beer flows
nicely on down

The rhythm
with time
and metre
goes
against
the flow

but

With a lack
of care or concern
I can break
these *****
little
habits
in order
for me to experience
a sense
of
literary
freedom

Even if
it does
scratch the eyes
and burn the ears

Even if
it never pays
for a mortgage
or
a new car

At least

At the very least

It will distract me
from the torments
of regime
routine
and God awful
reality

Writing really was
the first
and last
noble human invention.

Le Tour De France is playing
and this couch has never felt better
I embrace the pillow
much like my brother
he hits up a joint
and I stick with beer
our eyes are sullen
and we are silent
puff puff, drink drink

Like starving locusts
they swarm the streets
looking for instant gratification
they'll never afford

Bodies akimbo
****** shaking from AIDS
old men withered and plain
children starved and bemused
all with their palms out
hoping to catch
a little glimpse
of hope

they are the most beautiful people
on Earth.