A night at the theatre

A night at the theatre.jpg

I  veered through narrow streets

At night in Piccadilly and Soho

In ramshackle pursuit of a sea captain

While under my arm I struggled to carry,

a mattress

And all the time I knew it was absurd

But I kept up a dialogue with him

Remonstrating against him and his crew

How he had parked his ship

Too close to my car

And blocked me in

Awake. I am left with the residue

Of confusion

Amazed at what goes on inside my head

When the day shift goes off to play

And all manner of characters move in

To the theatre of my invention

Bristling with malevolent energy

To prick my pride

And expose my fragile hold on reality





Smudges around

Scared eyes

Betray the fear

That inhabits the one

Who sits in a shared space

And waits

For the show to gather pace


Voices raised

Share real and imagined pain

In the room

Where the past resides

In torn parcels

Willing to rend

To sympathy and hope


Who knows

Where those eyes go

When the show melts away

To comfort

To further pain

Will fingers wipe

Away the hurt

I am better than that

I am better than that.


My mind is dismal

Sloth. The cloth that hugs at the fabric

Of my being

Squashes hope like bleeding fruit

A skein of flesh ready to go off

Corrode and seep

In danger of losing faith


Let me rise from this sepsis

Slough away the harmful cells

And burn just a little

Just a small gleam will do

For faith and reason

Must occupy minute spaces

Where lies and envy


Connive and corrupt in quiet assembly

With thieves and cowards in alleyways

That are dark and smell metallic

Like spilled blood

And yes, spare me the ooze

The leaking away and stench

Of a naked, hopeless thought