next door they're yet holding another barbecue

starry sparks of pig and ox ascend in the dark

hot flesh, burning fuel amid the polite chatter

charred hose and doublet of brave Joan of Arc

beefburgers thick sausages dripping grease

immolated rump steak in the teeth of guests

witches and Jews getting lynched for threats

to the state as traitors and subversive pests

...

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can't breathe and his kidneys have had it

he's a dead duck if the machinery ceases

I could do anything I wanted with the guy

as a girl I used to pull my dolls to pieces

he gets no visitors so what is the point?

zero enquiries or flowers, no one cares

scant thanks when I change his nappies

all I ever get is moans and blank stares

does he have a clue how much this c...

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an old man upstairs has fits of coughing

women make his bed creak fit to bust

he's some sort of evangelical preacher

an expert on the perils of human lust

bones in bright sunshine or pouring rain

pressed down by limbs that rarely speak

contorted versions of my wide-open legs

I could make his bed wake up and creak

do my vows still apply after these years?

did I ...

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latest tears not necessary

descending like ripe apples

hapless hints of discontent

the dew sunlight dapples

I remember when we met

calf with a hint of muscle

smile like morphine drops

amid a mad festive bustle

not a gratuitous weeping

eyes dry as desert dunes

she swayed like Salome

irrespective of the tunes

veils swathe damp eyes

dismantled all...

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she'll still be here in ten years

our relationship but a crime

I will ony survive this trial if

I take it on one day at a time

philosophies come in guises

some aim at personal charm

other strive for success, or

the avoidance of self-harm

mine is to keep my head up

dont get agitated at her tics

ignore the tone of her voice

the jabs and yells and tricks

...

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ladies who live in my memory,

were they really so very fair?

did their laughter tinkle softly,

was it gold thread in their hair?

these days no ladies visit me

a lonely room more my line

do I imagine what happened,

what was never really mine?

three or four left their legacy,

odd scars garnish my facade,

some were softer than satin

others came of granite ha...

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in rivers of right they spawn

eggs already torn and bent

that grow deprived of dawn

to salve and heal their rent

and battered by a rusty flail

to a state not unlike trance

a polka spinning them pale

to a hapless agony of dance

chalking symbols onto slate

a scratch makes evil mute,

silent observances of hate

doomed flora lacking root

sometimes they...

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in olden times it was nobles

force was feudal and clear

your son taken to their war

droit de seigneur was fear

to poach meant a hanging

roughshod soldiers arms

lords took stock and crops

from villeins' mean farms

they snatch your data now

surveillance made routine,

drive or walk you're never

far from a monitor screen

no cruel noble ever knew

wh...

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in my soul she dances on,

tuned to a polka her feet,

swish of expensive velvet

big teeth white and neat

dance band chords echo

wind and brass combine

but can't erase the stink

of spilt burnt turpentine

smoke up my nostrils

provoked by her deeds

loung lizards basking

careless of my needs

tunes one after another

standards she'd adored

at her f...

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under sun she soaks rays

ultra violet for an old skin,

back's bare, bronzed sad,

ancient the state we're in

young flesh moves nearby

brash rampant limbs shout:

hey! we can do this forever

our bodies know no doubt

we were just like that once

where did all our years go?

why do we lean or shuffle?

is it her, moving so slow?

the white mane annoys me

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