Monday, 14 May 2018


For my friends ... you know who you are, specially since some of you were there.


Yesterday upon the stair 
I met a man who wasn’t there.
He turned up later at the show
So far out he didn’t know
We’d met before.
Hard and rude to just ignore
I listened through the spit and sparks
As he declaimed once more that Marx
Would be two hundred had he lived.

Hippy, boho, pagan, punk?
Was he like me or simply drunk?
“I’ve been stoned these thirty days,”
He declaimed through purpled haze
Emphasised through thrashing gesture
Splashing ale in my direction.

I hoped he’d find another friend.
Instead he grabbed me by the hand
And led me through the throng.
The band could only struggle through their set
As every thought he spoke out loud
In front of the assembled crowd.

He chivvied, “Have you seen the world?
South America? Africa? China?
Nepal? India? Asia Minor?
I’m seventy-seven, seen the lot.
Though some would claim I lost the plot
At least once I held it in my hand.
Have you been far beyond this land?

Do you write?” He asked and said,
“May I recite?”
Threw back his head 
And howled some sounds into the air;
A thin and baying song so rare
I’d never heard the like before.
He carried on declaring more a feeling than a meaning
And concluded with a drunken smile.

Throughout the recitation
Mildly panicked situation
I scanned to seek the aid of friends
And in the end two came to my assistance.

They moved their chairs and made some space
I took my leave and left in haste
Abandoned him to speak to others.

No umbrage given and none taken
At being suddenly forsaken
A new idea took hold at once
And he exhorted all, “Let’s dance!”

Marshlander 5th May 2018

1 comment:

  1. Smashing poem. I can see and feel the situation, and the mild discomfort.