poetry

LAST QUARTERThe country feels pity for mistreated SirCrestwell,Denounced in the Commons, stripped ofhis ‘hood –It stinks of creeping conservative morality,Shall we call it - the castrated Eightiesdecade?I’m sorry Sir Crestwell, and for all whoare gay,I hate the way this government disgracedyou –It will be sometime before the countryforgets,That honour bestowed, can be takenaway.THE NEIGHBOURS[20 thst Jul 1982, Newcastle]Receding wanes the whining car engine,Out in the lane, an hour past twelve.What would prompt a good living citizenTo be abroad and about at this time?Just five minutes back, I heard a loudcrackThat reminded me of a starter’s trackgun,And almost inaudible, I could be mistaken,I heard a scream, and a mention of God.I also recall a clatter of footsteps,In haste, and running along the sidewalk–A car-door opening, and closed in a hurry,An engine started in a deafening roar.Who would disturb the peace of thenight hours,All good neighbours were meant to behome?Only prowlers and miscreant personsWould venture out so late on the road.EGO GOES WHERE I GOES[20.05pm, 11 th Aug 1982, Newcastle]Everywhere I go, EGO goes too,Talking and changing my mind.One hour we’re laughing, next cryingOver things of various kinds.I try to forget about EGO,Lurking and weaving about,But time after time he saves meFrom lingering boredom and doubt.EGO has rights like I have,I cannot command his power.We are like a rainy day –I am the cloud, EGO the shower.Sometimes I tend to hate EGO,Others, he’s the best friend I have.So, I kind of live with EGO,And EGO lives with me, and that’s that.BARBARIANS OF THE WEST[12pm, 19 th Aug 1982, Newcastle]The arose from the mists mounted onhorses,And armed with weapons dripping inblood –They crossed the wastes and desolateplacesTo arrive like the anger of a terriblestorm.Savage in battle, they ravaged the richlands,Their brown eyes burning all that theysaw;Felling all order with axes and terror –111