Nightscape

Nightscape

Our footsteps echo, bounce between hollowed empty buildings

and lose themselves again in deserted door-wells

deep darkened gaps, missing teeth in a broken smile

before being borne away by the bustling, scudding wind,

rattling metal shutters, matrix security grilles

the eyelids of unkempt, un-lit windows

of long-locked abandoned shops

The cold creeps into us, bitter chill biting finger-ends,

hurrying us along, despite ourselves, scurrying and scuttling rat-like

through unloved empty streets, cracked paving stones,

broken kerbs and gutters of dirty un-swept sidewalks,

pools of stagnant water snagging flapping sheets of greasy newspapers

hiding random dirt and rubbish

And night-time window-shows, bright shopping mall displays

flashing harsh allurements in a piercing clash of neon

reflected in the roadway sheen

shielding the shabbiness of pound stores and bookies,

amusement arcades and charity shops, cash-for-gold pawn-brokers

and unpopulated pubs and clubs

Yet somehow something stirs, unbidden flashes of former lively streets

nostalgia for what once was - no longer deaf, dumb and blind,

no longer worn and beaten down, but a town that lived and breathed

memories of a better past

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Drivel From Devizes - Dateline Sunday 7th May 2017

Drivel From Devizes: Dateline – Sunday 7^th May 2017

Here is our weekly round-up of events from Devizes:

                                                  

1.      The Bard has left the village!  The departure of the bard for the nearby hell-hole that is Devizes provoked fiercely divided opinion in the village.  Whilst a devoted body of his acolytes went into deep mourning, weeping and wailing, and castigating their own bodies in despair and self-loathing, the large majority of the villagers held bonfire parties and celebrated deep into the night.  Large firework displays spelling out the words “Good Riddance” could be seen illuminating the night sky.  Either way – sheep may now safely graze, and vegetables can sleep soundly in their beds at night.

2.      In the depths of deepest Devizes meanwhile, people gathered in the market-place in their traditional Sunday ceremony of watching the traffic lights at the pedestrian crossing turn to amber, then red.  Shortly afterwards, following a harmonic salute, the lights turned both red and amber, then resumed their normal weekly colouring of green.  The crowd slowly dispersed before a few hardy souls mustered in front of the window of the delicatessen in order to watch the man in there operate the bacon-slicer.  And who says nothing ever happens in this town?

3.      For details of these and all other Devizes stories, don’t forget to listen to local radio station D-Town F-off.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Twenty-One Pounds

In Memoriam - Samson, a real bobby dazzler of a cat

Twenty-One Pounds

Twenty-one pounds

The figures stand out starkly

At the bottom of the column

Of other pounds and pence

An amount within an invoice

An account now rendered

Simple unadorned numbers

Clear in black and white

Just before the grand total

Twenty-one pounds

VAT inclusive

The final line of reckoning

The fee for services rendered

The burning of the body

Cremation of his small remains

Somewhere taken care of

That we shall never see

Twenty-one pounds

Seems not near enough

To reflect his energy

Nor what he meant to us

But that’s all there is of death

The summary of a struggle

A last and final line of life

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

A Corner Turned

An example of a poem written for one very special reason at one moment in time, but which now applies to a very different situation.

A Corner Turned

And now the thing is done -

The post that seemed so far away

That never would be reached

Has become a milestone passed along the way

Already long behind me

Fading into hazy distance

A cross-ways of sorts

A turning-point achieved

Breath exhaled and a sigh released

Then confident strides along

A new and different path

As it stretches out ahead

The course a changed one

The direction of travel

Along a new trajectory

Perhaps towards the same horizon

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Invaded

Invaded

It’s not a matter of consent

or permission to invade

to come within the confines of my body,

nor the medical necessity of timely intervention,

but the very intrusion itself

and the cutting of skin and tissue,

the breach of orifice

entrance by main force,

breaking from without to within,

external to internal,

the subtle insertion of pipes and wires

the transgression of needles and probes

the incursion of cameras and computers

to break into the inner cavities

among the blood and nerves and organs

that pump away unseen

to effect the running repairs

to keep me alive for another day,

to give me the breath to complain bitterly

of the pain of violation

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

Radioactive

Radioactive

I’ve had this little operation, on the theatre table laid prostrate,

They’ve fixed me up, and I’m good to go, ‘cos they’ve irradiated my prostate.

Yes they treated me with radiation, with hundreds of tiny little seeds,

Now I’m full of alpha particles that will soon provide for all my needs.

I’ve got my own internal power source, which is a most important factor.

Now I’m a little generator, like a tiny nuclear reactor.

This fusion makes me glow in the dark, just like the ad with the Reddy-Brek kid,

And if the nation gets short of power, they’ll just connect me to the National Grid.

Now you’ll see I’ve got a new demeanour, that there’s a special quality to my gaze:

It comes from a sense of inner power – well that, and I’m transmitting gamma rays.

And it’s bound to make me so much fitter, a claim I think you’ll find is fair,

Cause now I can only go out and about if I’m sporting my lead underwear.

And now I’m fit and full of energy, a Geiger-counter provides the metric:

I’m a low-carbon, lean, green machine, and I generate my own electric.

Not only that: there’s something else to tell : this medical advance that’s come to pass,

Means that now I have this inner light, so the sun really does shine out my ass.

These hot spots of uranium provide me with lots of future hope.

It’ll take me decades to decay, thanks to the half-life of my isotope.

There’s only one cloud on the horizon, something that might cause me to frown:

There could perhaps be a nuclear accident, and my innards might go into melt-down.

So just be careful when you come to bury me: it might have to be a very long way down.

You won’t want me in your neighbourhood, so it’ll have to be a long way out of town.

Anyway, there’s only one thing puzzling me: now that I’ve become radio-active,

And that I’m fully solar-powered, will it make me any more attractive?

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017

The Force Within

The Force Within

Now I must learn to live anew

And re-float myself

As the ark within which are carried

Inside and occult

These strange and dangerous seeds

Bringing death to certain cells

But life anew to this old body

Acting whilst they slowly fade

And mysteriously dissolve

Their active energy

Giving me an inner glow

A fighting force for good

That yet preserve me

Even as they kill

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017