Черновики

Черновики

Men who forget,

As empires start to crack,

Men who forget brought up to

Men who just lack,

Any justice and

Any thoughts for

Bitter and torn,

All prejudice for the like,

Turning out one by one,

Clasp your hands, don’t forget,

Minority hold.

***

Perverse reactions, the failings of mankind. What is your disability? What cross do you bear? Will your crucifiction leave a better place for your cildren, your children’s children. Can you expect so much as terrors of the modern age loom over distant hills, in violent cities, quiet towns and settled homes. Ignorance, a poor man’s friend. Avenues lined with trees and bitter memories. Technology and the ghosts of Christmas past. A family that haunts even in your more friendly dreams, Father can I go out now ...Father can I go, Father ...Who are you? Where am I? What am I?

***

Perverse reactions, the failings of mankind. What is your disability? What cross do you bear? Will your crucifiction leave a better place for your children, your children’s children. Can you expect so much as terrors of the modern age loom over distant hills, in violent cities, quiet towns and settled homes. Ignorance, a poor man’s friend. Avenues lined with trees and bitter memories. Technology and the ghosts of Christmas past. A family that haunts even in your more friendly dreams, Father can I go out now... Father can I go, Father...Who are you? Where am I? What am I?

***

Nothing seems real anymore. Even the flames from the fire seem to beckon to me, drawing me into some great past life buried somewhere deep in my subconscious, if only I could find the key..if only..if only. Ever since my illness, my condition, I’ve been trying to find some logical way of passing my time, of justifying a means to an end.

***

Someone called her name...Taking her children by the hand she walked over to the other side of the room and glanced sideways out of the window, straightening the mirror on her way. Nothing. Someone called her name... Children are crying in their bedrooms. Don’t you know it takes something more to cope with these problems, this stress. This I can take but the way some people look at me, the way some people talk, really gets me down. This is all I want. This is all I came for. This is my life.

Someone called her name. A noise outside breaks the afternoon silence. ‘Aren’t you glad I came. I need someone to realise my dreams. I can take you away from all this. I’ve already seen your daughter. I picked her up in my car on her way to school this morning. She’s beautiful. Don’t you think you need a change too.’ Someone called her name. Sound of children crying.

***

Cold wind moving in from afar — death in the park, another senseless murder, child mutilated, red sky calling, inserts deep inside, warm glow from the feet up — this could be Hell.

Twelve noon lined up against the wall — about face, load fire. Ten shot echo in a faraway African town. CIA reports ‘No cause to worry — everything under control.’

On the beach looking for old friends — cities springing up all around — metallic glow reflecting a coldness felt only once in childhood. Money for this, money for that, money for nothing. I guess they died some time ago. Walking on water — Moses crosses the red sea — world peace intact, with a deep sigh he turns to face the wall, hand in hand they disappear into the night.

***

Pictures, brown round the edges, occupying places on half empty walls. As the dust gathers so do the memories of a child’s past. Healing wounds opened again and letters in strictest confidence for the world to see. Follow me down the garden path, I’ll show you where it all happened, oh so many years ago. Follow me down the path. Tears of a brother lost before birth, sentenced to no life at all. Tears of a mother who knew she had lost everything.

‘We left her playing here besides the flowers and then...It was horrible. I just can’t bear to think about it.’ The clock strikes six, everyone eats and then sleeps. A deep uneasy sleep. I can’t understand why. Pacing the floor I stare out into the night. What’s left for me?

***

A wider alliance that leads to new roads beyond the limits, holding hands, jumping off walls into dark seclusion, cut off from the mainstream of most intimate yearnings, I left my heart somewhere on the other side, I left all desire for good.

Clinging to naked thought, impossible tactics worked out for impossible means. This is the final moment of respite. The final page in the book. A bitter challenge between old and new, with one last warning.