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Poetry Magnum Opus

intimacy in life


dedalus
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Allow me buy you an ice cream
instead of a glass of red,
as you appear to be only ten years old.
Eleven? I sincerely beg your pardon.
The fact is, I need you to talk to me.
In the beginning comes an intimacy of life
which is also its ending, with banknotes scattered
here and there, tutto non-Anglo-Saxon,
floating confetti, darling,
a style of living in which nothing signifies.
Many people know this.
Few pay any attention.
Across from the 19th century arcades,
on the right side as one descends the street,
is an open green area, quite pleasant in summer,
once the southern precincts of the Savoy Hotel,
now with deckchairs scattered in the pale London light.
Yet the bars of the cage grow closer every day,
and the damp grey walls move in.
I am innocent, I am innocent,
I have done nothing!
Well, nearly nothing.
Ah, here comes your ice cream.
My goodness, it looks magnificent!
I need you to tell me about your Daddy,
was he nice to you, did he give you presents,
did he argue many times with your Mum?
When I was talking to Hitler
upon 2-3 occasions at the Kaiserhof hotel
he was amazingly succinct and logical,
although his right leg was jigging
and his left arm clamped down by his right.
This was 1937, a quiet year,
apart from the visit of that idiot Duke of Windsor,
when all the public talks were of peace
and all the private plans were of war.
The Germans really loved him: they had no idea.
In the beer halls of Munich,
I used get drunk with my Nazi pals,
but it really meant nothing!
It was just beer, bratwurst and songs
with a little business on the side.
I had a good War,
dodging bombs in London.
workimg at a desk for SOE,
(they gave me an MBE!)
Naturally, I turned in all my German pals.
Many were forced to “co-operate”,
at great risk to themselves and their families,
but I cared not a button.
I found this betrayal rather easy,
although I did mourn the executions.
What profiteth a man
if he gaineth the whole world
but loseth his soul?
Life catches up with you in the end,
all the indececion and half-failures,
mounting, then just creeping along,
until one day they fall upon you
and leave you weeping in a rented room.
Then there are no friends or pals,
there is simply nobody.

 

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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An excellent mirror of unchanging human nature: "Trust no one!" Is the current catch phrase of Thomas Cromwell from a highly watchable "Wolf Hall" drama series; it seems though, to be a pre-requisite for selfish, devious, success hungry bastards everywhere, both past and present. To be 'educated' and/or have no spiritual belief, conscience or human empathy.... is to have no fear of retribution. Success... to die... before being held to account, or withering away in old age.

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leave you weeping in a rented room.

 

"Rented" just makes the whole thing more......more.....beyond sad!

 

Loved these:

 

apart from the visit of that idiot Duke of Windsor,

 

and

 

I have done nothing!
Well, nearly nothing.
If I am innocent of their suffering, let me guilty of bringing their relief.
And let the congregation say.....Read on! :)
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