Sep 2020
THE LEGS HAVE COME BACK!
"The legs have come back! '
the eyes shouted
swimming around in
the goldfish bowl.
My mouth
remained tight-lipped
perched
upon the perch
in the budgie's cage
...sh**!
And indeed
the legs
who had taken themselves off
and gone for a walk
around about midnight
on their own
had returned
(without any explanation)
of where they had been
or with whom.
They had scratches
about the knees
& a telephone number
(written in Biro)
on the left inner
thigh.
I tried
to pull myself
to-get-her.
'**** the demon
drink! '
I thought slurrrrridly
before passing out.
'Never...ne...ver..
a...gain! '
But I was in bits
couldn't get a grip
on
my
self.
My brain had gone
riding the lift
up 'n' down
up 'n' down
all night
with one of my arms.
The other arm
was asleep.
"The legs have come back! '
the eyes shouted
swimming around in
the goldfish bowl.
My mouth
remained tight-lipped
perched
upon the perch
in the budgie's cage
...sh**!
And indeed
the legs
who had taken themselves off
and gone for a walk
around about midnight
on their own
had returned
(without any explanation)
of where they had been
or with whom.
They had scratches
about the knees
& a telephone number
(written in Biro)
on the left inner
thigh.
I tried
to pull myself
to-get-her.
'**** the demon
drink! '
I thought slurrrrridly
before passing out.
'Never...ne...ver..
a...gain! '
But I was in bits
couldn't get a grip
on
my
self.
My brain had gone
riding the lift
up 'n' down
up 'n' down
all night
with one of my arms.
The other arm
was asleep.
That's the last ****** time I take Charles'( hic...)sick advice. I was all over the place and my body just couldn't pull itself together
BE DRUNK
Charles Baudelaire
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
BE DRUNK
Charles Baudelaire
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
(Guildford)
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