Wednesday 25 October 2023

O your Colonel,, as a father (final)


O your Colonel,, as a father 

indemnified the door from Salisbury plains 

to stamping an interspace of whispers 

stricken voiceless Inside Praepostor Business Class,, 

a brig that sensation masts 

another Earldom, ancestries past

a carousel hologram of a boat race appears

all foppish fair haired boys 

in oak quad sculls, singing: 

‘O What is a Stephen Christopher Yaxley?’

Dreadnought, Britannia, Thetis, St George Prince of Wales 

& Ten Logie Leggatts leading the line 

chalks over thinly whose clear body 

was so pure, & mine

after a moment looking out at the roaring sea, 

you ask what lies outside the White cliffs for me?  

to a single reply; 


Blue Boys swilling on the beach

brisk’d my cheek the heraldic bleed,

undernight-air claps &  

                                                                                            Cooee! Cooee!    

 a boat as good as brains! & so und so weiter 

                                 that one man was much like another 

on this vast floating army cum laude,

there are perks in chains of lead 

you can feel it & chasten the colour, 

in England enterprise our armada

its ladened wraith a dodo skeleton 

in the morning you lay down

in a Recruitment crawl space 

of its office carpet broadloomed,, 

a June morning together. 

It is dark now along the rim & always now dark forever more. 

& We never kissed…..

Bricklayers. Investors. Antecedents. Warfares.

hanging from a steel pergola, 

that yawning feeling comes over

the working-catharsis hiccups 

& collapses glitches of sweat or blood to nothing.  

Not even a coat of arms.  

& What will you do if agency workers cross the picket line?  

Start again. 

& so what lies outside the White cliffs?

a fallen head glued to a mansard roof

eating Chartwells Free School Meals 

milligram by milligram 

Good over Evil, Life over Death 

depopulated centres enterprise children,  

under no boss in Jack of Plate 

toxing bed stiffened hard-ons 

to chartered hails & God is here 

on little screens above the concourse 

Sky News Broadcasts a perpetual loop

 of Dark Justice & you 

bleed in a line 

or switch in disguise & what army? 

in the morning emulsifying under sunglass, 

a beating heart to a raging quiver?  

Good over Evil, 

Life over Death

starbursts reflect non-permanent futures 

a crown of tapered pilasters 

crony parvenu crawls out of each 

in melamine Yellow plaintive 

5 year chembinge & the city wall is hell, 

as if in a mould 

where the lid or stopper turns grey-silver 

chrome chainlinked 

the multitude on the beach sings

take back this lonely song,, & beseech 

the unnameable bodies of hectares 

old panoply of grimoires

now in venerated sprigs

over chalk breaks like Dover Straits

& listen to quarter peal 

of Stedman Caters ringing

as though sounding the tocsin 

on hearthrugs fading 

an English light curls up my back 

to tap on the hypercondensation,,

the window sneaks a think-tank 

                                  a translucent yew tree,

a coup operation; 

the Nationwide Festival of Light 1971

a berry for later, snaps Peers 

as the poverty lobby is galvanised underneath 

gradients of eternal bliss to crypt it, 

& bury falling through the stairway 

at Bevins Court, 

a Vladamir creaks out 

it's whispered slue 

your name is bleach, 

moral standards the abolition of suffering 

the abolition in the central linking drum 

my eyes now glue weeping on the gallery floors,, 

you watch from the rooftop canopy, 

a tapering & thinning air, 

What is to Be Done with Hopton Wood Stone, 

clipped now painted?

To move at night near anti-pigeon spikes 

inside pressing up against vulnerable white skin, 

the skin of a living boy, the skin without blood gradually, 

a chest without air, a slackening thin stomach thinning 

Yaxleys in the area

& return to us that aching feeling, 

under this bluelight to meld all bleating 

strong people's blood, that is good & not shitmud! 

& I can see from fits of burning rubber 

ever glowing, never receding 

a line of fealty choke,, s sublime well-being 

destined to be 

a Yaxley hidden 

pickering to tilth 

O your Colonel,, as a father, 

& the fairest hushes of the wettest lips 

& uppermost purpose clangs like the jip of a needle 

under the State, 

a strike for your life! 

a painless bite, a mother's love, 

the profoundest peace,

& logarithmic pulses imp-

lore us; spectral Keith Josephs radiantly falling

abolish this pain below hedonic zero 

& make all hearts to emulate 

caustic preening the lumbar straits 

the baseline Sir Keith's 

scolded Schlaraffenland 

eating through a cloud of rice pudding; 

on the other side of the fence an empty apparition, 

basted in votives 

the gene code is Generation Merit,

undog your living twilight.