Monday, 4 April 2011

Writing the Cheque


Loneliness is a biro pen and no paper.
The power belongs to me and a guy from COMMUNITY:
I wrote back but there appeared no escape.
I borrowed another drink. Anyway, he was marooned.
The big cheese plant got its annual wash -
It looks far better for a lovely brush.
It's ridiculous to speculate.
From the national central banks came the shouts
of their salaries, pensions and the European System.
We filled in the wall in a metro-van
chasing an equivalent claim under cars
in accordance with an open market economy in treacle
and national central banks shall have the garage.
In view of the hectic routine, the bank notes,
the FINE ARTS SOCIETY is chasing
in despair from Doncaster and mobile tea-shops.
We go to Byres Rd TESCO; children are playing.
We get hamburgers - an efficient allocation of food.
We couldn't win at half past nine,
on the required minimum reserves
on accounts with piranhas scrambling.
Louise comes up but I can't say
I'm feeling turned on by chapter 8 of the treaty.
The Golden Virginia Tobacco competition results
are published tomorrow
but I am still full of loneliness.
Subject to visiting neighbours' houses and bodies,
the carpenter curls within a mile
of those claiming under the ninth floor.
Let me introduce you.
It's something that to date initiated legal proceedings
against bodies that support the thaw on northern hills,
forsaking the Governing Council,
supporting the journey's pointlessness.
Visitors go to town on the council,
in the smooth conduct of a letter.
Returning for my last advert in the impression
that matters will be resolved today.
Ah well, in the morning perhaps.
We go to town on a proposal from Doncaster
and shall act by jove - fill in 'destiny' -
my birthday going nowhere fast.
The worst of money - a bounced cheque.

© Gerald England

Composed: Gee Cross, 17th October, 1992


1994 Radio Void (USA)
2006 Other Voices (Internet)

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