Collected Commentary

I am going into town
To see no new people
I am going into town
To see more of the real me

I read your story
Of the grief-stricken young maid
I read your poems
Written on the railroads of USA

I too have stood, and also sat
In cold empty churches
I too have stood, also sat
On the edge of the fens

So we have shared movement
And been
To each other’s houses
To write, to read, to laugh

You are the real thing
And I am the old pretender
You have the gift
And also you have given

I am going into town
To see no new people
I am going into town
To see more of you know who

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Shouldn’t Be Said

This isn’t the song
Which I wanted to sing
That old old story
Of you wearing my ring

No I wanted to sing of avoidance
The avoidance of me by you
I wanted to sing of abandonment
The abandonment,  and you seeing it through

I wanted to hurt you
And you to hurt me too
I wanted to hold on
To you eyes of blue

I wanted to tell you
And you to tell me too
I wanted us to sing on
With both singing true

I wanted to sing of abandonment
The abandonment of me by you
I wanted to sing of avoidance
The avoidance, and you seeing it through

This isn’t the story
Which I wanted to be sold
The sad old glory
Of being left out in the cold

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The Two To One Question

I never did know
How far from the altar
I never did fathom
That old helter-skelter

I asked you once
I asked you twice
I offered you heaven
For a roll of the dice

You said no once
You said no twice
You didn’t believe in me
Or in Jesus Christ

I never did know
How far from the altar
I never did fathom
That old helter-skelter

I walked away once
I walked away twice
I was fearful of leaving
I was fearful of life

You stayed behind once
You stayed behind twice
You couldn’t conceive of me
Or of being my wife

I never did know
How far from the altar
I never did fathom
That old helter-skelter

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Bacchus Hotel

I am the only patron
In the rather swish coffee lounge
I am somewhat intrigued
By the chrome yellow shadows
With neon blue outlines

Now I play shadow puppets
As I choose a replacement dessert
Due to the run on the syrup sponge
The room is an interior designers dream
Or nightmare, depending on your taste

The stamped distressed vegetable crate
Suggests the establishment opened in 1691
I am joined by an old man, with his even older
Greyhound, assuming that is of course
That each dog year is worth x times a human year

The waiter explains to the woman at the bar
That she ought to book her Christmas meal
Sooner rather than later; you know how it is
In the trade, everybody is a salesman, everyone
Wants to make their mark, in full on sodium

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Hutoft Car Terrace

No parking
Between 10PM and 6AM

To the South
At some distance
A promenade of lights
With the windmill's red lights
On an higher elevation

To the East (straight ahead)
A grey beach
A Black sea
A blacker sky
Above the horizon

To the North
The glow you might be due
From Gods own County
Other than that
Nothing given

Nothing, as well you might expect

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