Poetry & Music -
2nd May 2017
with Mike Parsons David Kessel, Abe Gibson,
and Roger Hoddle.
floor spots come early...
Powis Road (off Bruce Road) E3 3HJ see map
Bow Road or Bromley by Bow Tube/Bow Church DLR
3-Bees Cafe 4 - 8: bring a bottle/cans
Austerity Door Policy - give what you can afford
from "Yesterday's Menu" (1983);
Until That Day
On December 13th 1981, Martial Law was imposed upon the people of Poland
Despair is dark The spurs of tyranny appal Who dares remember that the world is thus, That madness lurks among these men of power?
Impelled by passion's anguish Our global ignorance, moves slowly through its infancy, All knowledge and achievement mocked.
More real than we imagine, Stamped on the hearts of all, This battle stifles And tyranny to tyranny returns In spite of martyrs.
The bloodshed sparks explosion, The soul cries damned into the night Cries damned into eternal night; This enemy is in the hearts of all.
Advancing spirit, innocent, Is crushed in the guilty grip Of those who want, Who war with their own people.
We have learned nothing; Our way of measuring is false. Sounding sleep's cruel solution We fathom the mystery Hoping for a day when all will care And clocks can start.
Then the greed for glory, tempered, Will reach with will to serve Beyond the power of words Persuading to value all the tears that stream;
Tears for ourselves, tears for the dead, Tears, tears and tears, so many more to shed That honour those who unconsenting, lead, Agitate Until the child's smile Quiets the terror in the tired face And provides the promise of man as he can become.
We reach behind the bars; No panic without time So let time stand still, Its flickering testimony stained By any hollow peace.
With safety suspect, Forgotten freedom dredges from the silent A holy protest. Rebellion trembles 'til the lamb comes home.
Saddened, Unable to anticipate, We fight for a life, We fight for a living, Thirsting an end We seek a beginning. Powerless, we pray And struggle with a world confused: Poland in our hearts, Her universal flame a focus for our fears.
Hard learning - when to react, But our lovers die protesting So we need not travel far to find what's near.
Give us control, A rein upon our lives. Calm and heal our memories As we listen for the brave, Who persevere amid this awful tide 'Til freedom's truth again inspires To recompense at knowledge's brink The first flickering of virgin eyes
THE ITALIAN VIEW
Places I will never visit, Thoughts I must forget, not think, not ever, Hidden corners.
Behind the brandy bottle, The dusty rusting bayonet, Lies upon the side board. Fabrics that were better never cut, Tales that children never knew, Things were best forgotten.
She'd been locked behind a silent tongue. Close enough to take the moment when it came, but unable to reach the key.
Scared... what does it matter now we're past it?
Her past had plunged into a switchback dream world where lanterns light the care-torn tightrope of slow surrender.
Our second meeting summoned Christ, eagle winged, to calm the ruff of indecision that choked the afternoon.
As the web breaks and the stale years retreat, Heaven's twirling matrix seems to sense and Christ and Icarus soar to station below a sun burning fast and familiar with the jazz of a thousand permutations; a constant cycle of repetition forging the poem of today, as one rises and the other falls.