Rhythm of the rails
strikes a resonant chord
Music for the morning
and the commuter hoard
Newspapers folded
Tablets fired up
with caffeine boosters
from paper cup
Gathering momentum
into the Weald
Heading for London
through Sussex field
Dank air, thick and heavy
As gaseous molasses,
lazily ferments in this amber rusted barrel
Of soulful blues and bad tobacco.
Faithful, old drunks slowly sway,
Inebriated from breathing kill-devil air.
They sing wailing gospels of woe
In harmony with Lucille on the record player.
I missed my opportunity
when I put it off.
I thought I had plenty of time.
I went about my business,
though it never left my mind.
Now he’s gone and I’m left to cry.
I’m plagiarising something
today, but never mind
‘Cos there’s every best intention
and it’s not meant to be unkind
For I have (as to be honest)
done a thing I often do
Been listening to music
and the sounds I loved and knew
I caught a glimpse of Spring
on the ground the other day
as a host of flowering crocuses
gathered there to say
that the sunshine’s getting warmer
so it’ll really not be long
before the sound from every meadow
is the voice of Springtime song
She jump beneath the red
suave terra firma, piercing
the gravity, smooch orange
gooey acid with her bean
Bite the rubber butt of
the first lady romancing
in the white cotton beach
Puke exquisitely
on black mommy duck
beneath her nape
like a barrel of red velvet balls
The music of the ocean
the best tune I know
as I hear if very often
when to the beach I go
It’s a full orchestral movement
with the nuances that brings
and the voices of a choir
for the wondrous songs its sings
In life I have two passions
which, I’m pleased to say
I’m blessed, as I can oft indulge
in each ‘most every day
One (you’ve guessed) is writing
as these words attest right here
Something that I love to do
and in my life hold dear
