Tuesday, March 8, 2016


No need for a spy-glass,
here she comes, do look !
What a dusky beauty !
A Venus, in my book.
She's got me cooking.
Yes call me Captain Cook !

Emily Dickinson
in white (a shroud ?).
Her room (a coffin?)
no one allowed.

The last I visited
old Camden Town
the street juggler
and the street clown
did their thing
as they did in York,
but where I'm now
there's very-little work
from the juggler
or from the clown.
Idle beggars only
just sitting around.

"Don't go concrete me over
from Scotland to Dover,
you've got to let me breathe !
Don't burden me with citadels,
with toxic fumes and foul smells,
I'm your motherland, yes believe !"

That guy Jeffrey Bernard,
find now dead and gone,
you'll safely-bet drank more
than "Just the one !"

It is a female impersonator
performing at theatre The Scene.
He caught a train from King's Cross
and used to be called a drag-queen.
The times sure are changing,
changing as fast as he
into the clothes of a woman.
Grey wig for a guy now a she ?

Ah yes Mayfair Madge
slept with a badge,
with a bobby blue.
She was wealthy,
he just healthy,
too good to be true.
Love and laughter,
what was he after ?
Was it her money ?
Was the cop a crook ?
Was the girl handcuffed
to a bent bunny ?

Oh Madge to be fair
May was in the air,
you were no April fool.
Why show him the door
as if he an outlaw,
throw away the jewel ?

With the blonde, brunette and redhead
I have gone and shared a bed,
with the dusky-skinned-girl too.
Many the work-lives I have led,
many the seas I have journeyed
but just like naval-men who love the oceans blue
to the Muse of Poetry I've been most true.

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