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Gabriel K. Aspinall


I am an amateur poet, and have only been seriously applying myself in the last few months. I have not been published anywhere yet but think it may be the time to start trying. 

 

 

 

Indigestible

 

It will not rhyme.

 

Time, that motion of change and flux,

Is just an optical glass

Where eternity may be glimpsed.

As through a port hole of a ship,

The full extent of land

May not be viewed,

But as we near coast, and stand on deck

And look, full-eyed in wonder,

Our trip’s finality becomes, clearer

Closer, coloured:

This is the coming of age.

 

The coming of age, does not,

Though, understand

Fully, the shape of leaves in scrutiny,

Nor the soil’s consistency,

Nor the paw-prints of indigenous.

But as our feet

Move to extent of land,

Step from the port-holes and the ship,

Then eternity may be glimpsed,

Without an optical glass

Or the flux and change: Out of Time.

 

It will not rhyme.

 

 

Ugliness seems unequivocal in these unreal times

 

Ugliness is everywhere in these unreal, eventual times

Of murderers and molests, malingerers and marred men;

These times where brothers live like Abel and Cain,

And the name of divine is taken freely in vain.

In these ugly times where by Man’s hand, Man is slain.

Ugliness seems redolent in every bar I walk

In the pubs, the social clubs, the restaurants and hotel function-rooms,

And those drinks are no longer jolly and light-hearted

They are raw and callous, acrid,

And that is no characterisation,

That is Truth.

 

Only on moors and forests and retreating lakes

Where silence’s relaxed snooze never wakes

Only here may we, the quiet and concerned, drink slowly

And happily without that rush of the unholy

That surge of the irreverent, that plush

Raucous marauding that disturbs our gentle hush.

Only in fields and maybe empty flats

Or maybe, maybe deserted streets where only you are sat

With a grin, a red nose, and ruffled hair

And an empty, unassuming stare.

Maybe there, maybe there.

 

But for now, nowhere;

I will not risk these unreal and ugly times,

Risk a burden unneeded,

Be looking over my shoulder;

Be a-warned of antagonisers and aggravators; 

The end is not great enough,

                                    This hangover and grating cough,

No, no, not today. From now on no.

 

Instead I shall search the highlands

Of my mind, The lagoons

Of my heart, the caverns of conversations,

The streams of lonesome men,

The forests of shied women, curious

And concerned, the drop-in centres,

The homeless hostels,

The whispering wide-eyed lunatics

Lost in this unreal world;

O my carousel companions!

 

And I shall find them,

For they are everywhere, but nowhere if you

Have never looked, they are the men

That keep the walls together

The women that feed the children

They are the third nipples of the world

The eccentrics never noticed;

They are the mad before the one-two-three glugs

of workmen by the varnished wood.

                                                And they are all around.

                                                Behind your houses

                                                            In your fields

                                                Collected on mounds

                                                Of burnt and decayed,

                                                They sell you songs

                                                            And they sell you curses:

And you need no liquor from a keg to keep them jovial.

 

We are the mad and wide-eyed

And we shall be left standing, gaping at what we always knew;

With body upon body; Bodies everywhere;

Bodies in the bars, Bodies at the judge’s bar,

Bodies by the cars, Bodies still in bathtubs.

And we, the outcasts and untold savoir-faires, we

Shall see it all as it was shown through

Balls of glass and crass cards

And prophecies of bearded, naked pariahs in the desert.

 

And now we shall be bearded and naked in the desert.

 

And then,

When all has come to nothing

And I may sing with Solomon as he rises from his grave,

Then, yes then,

I may drink a wooded vintage, and cry “Health!”

And cry, “Health to we mad insightful,

Health to we listeners to the whispers,

Health to Julian, Health John upon his Cross,

Health to writers, dreamers, thinkers, and wide-eyed Men streaked with loss.

Health lovers of Truth. Health lovers of anything.

Health, we few surviving.”

 

Yes. Then I will take my drink, and brandish it with these words,

And we shall be all lunatic, gathering in forgotten herds.

 

 

 

copyright © Gabriel K. Aspinall