20    The music of ‘Streets and Dreams’

Tarzan climbs a liana

            from the earth’s tough core

            through Easby’s Abbey tree

            to Valetta’s strait street leak.

Shit man!         And the bay goes, ah!

Ipso facto        too far,

too far to deny

            some horrible foreign tunnel leads

            to a vacant Eel Pie Island,

too far to buy

            a true standard to plant

            some place on the Jazz Ait.

Then    let ten listen   

            to the anchovy sound of an annual

HALLELUJAH           ϋμνος to a royal court planner.

So, no eel pie   to chew on then

nothing           but a boom-time rapper

            in a banana bandana

easing his deadly vowel chains

            into your fitful ocean and

urging nocturnal earthen       seizures.

On a roll          even an eerie eleven

            does not haunt the earth

for hell             gathers sooner

and colours a rather rough Rubicon

bronze             from north to south

rust red           from east to west

And now rife with fossils

            set forth and stressed

            aloof and dumbed

they rhyme

            laid out to Mallaig where

            di Lasso disowns the air

as if Lorca had swallowed     our defence lines

(Geoffrey Mark Matthews 28 March 2023)

21    The music of ‘Streets and Dreams’ part 2

C’n I bum a smoke?

Do be do wa

Hey man, whattsa time? Can I get a bell t’ chime?

Do be do woo

And bam shalam jest like that Valetta is pissed off in the extreme.

“Hey Valetta, calm the fuck down willya!”

Says Viktor Frankenstein, in between slurps of an oversized Negroni

Valetta (bam-shalam) is having none of this

“Fuck you Viktor! Fuck your stupid monster too, in his stupid ass!”

“Fer Chrissakes Valetta, calm down, have a Negroni”

Viktor signals to the monster to prepare the cocktail

But the monster has an eye on Valetta wonderin’ if she really wants it

As everyone knows Valetta has half an eye on the monster too,

Been goin’ on for months

Do be do wap

Is that the time already? Can I get a dime for Freddy?

Lorca and Goethe went into a bard,

Boy was he sore,

Do be do woop

And crazy-malazy there’s one cute little chicken in that coop,

“‘Saw her first!” says Johann

“Ya never did” says Federico, walzin’ over with the big Hispanic eyes,

But Goethe is too tricksy and trips him up with an urplanze-liana,

Federico goes tumblin’ down, into the chicken coop,

Henrietta makes a dash for the door,

But once again the German is too smart,

An organic alchemical device catches the bird at the out-tray

And ladies and gentlemen, it’s good-night Vienna.

Later at dinner (bash-ptempto!),

Reich and the G-Meister are eatin’ chicken schnitzel style,

“You got any left Willy?” peering at the plate from an oblique angle

“Nein” sniggers Wilhelm

“Ich kleide mich rechts!” and they both burst out laughing

Between guffaws, Goethe adds wid a wink

“I wuz only gonna ask…” he pauses for effect

“If it was orl-gone!?”

Sho do wop wop, fa dah!

(Graham   11 May 2023)

15 AI ate a Nomos Later

Its                            first                         iron                          fist

Even                        sad                          deer                         endear

Ecclesiastical           famine                     ran                           godless

Weapons                 rain                          hard                        down

Found                     nonchalantly           at                             home

No                           encampments         last                          time

Fecund                    banished                 dreams                    longing

Word                       temples                   awaken                   secrets

Aeon                       maps                       leaden                     upground

North                       rising                       inexorable               crying

Nearer                     above                      eerie                         winter

Sterilised                 strange                    demon                     cinema

(Graham  13 October 2022)

16    Time being

A critical concept I have thought about a lot

call it delirium

the edge between duals

the host of hidden ghosts

A short time ago

somewhat less than ten millennia

Kremlin military forces and western intelligence

dazzled your guests with synthetic light

yes… several different types of sophism

Have you been to 1989 brother?

not on sojourn… I mean

as a no-backbone traveller she was

set-up as your doomed dream

ay ay aye!

I went bouldering and ache all over

what if lower birth rates lead to more like me

official sacrificial goats to welcome

with Inca carols… please make sure

you have napkins for these tingly entrées

Biting into pet products we can make-believe

we haven’t eaten our brain’s capacity

when a needy man or woman

wakes us up to multiply or to to to die

Finding out how time is dis-splayed in

under-hand over-hitched un-thinking

intestinal yet still in testina knots when

their use and abuse commonly assumes

a non-literature of rage and desire when

after years of studying long grass long roads

and long ago egos

none survives the panicky

kicks of the corpus callosum

‘Well!’ says the lad ‘That’s a strange sight if ever I saw one! And now what have I but a tale of a troll and a silver penny. If things hold as they are then sure as the gods are real, I’m not done with oddness yet!’ And with this remark he strode out of the library and went back to the singular fen road that led him away.

The lad walked on, the day grew short. The village was long behind him but the fen seemed so, so vast. As twilight blue settled about him and the air grew more chill, the lad wondered what he would do for the night. At length he walked by an old tree stump, so wide it stuck obtrusively out of the hedgerow. In the fading indigo he could see a crow perched on the top of the stump, just above the line of whitethorn.

‘Whither away lad?’ says the crow. The lad looked up, and though alarmed, thought he’d best mind his manners, especially with the time of day and the nature of the speaker. ‘Good evening sir, I’ve left my village for a better life just this very day, though I’m sure I shant’ find it today. I’ve food enough to keep me going, but where to sleep tonight, now there’s an issue? Like as not I’ll carry on along the road and see if there’s a small house where I might grab a night’s lodging.’

The crow peered at him with a curious angle of its head and spoke again ‘There’s no house down the road you’ll reach tonight lad and like as not the folk round here wouldn’t have you either. Yet I may be able to help you. This old stump is hollow inside keeps the cold and wind fair away. The inside is soft where the wood has rotted but slightly and would make a fair place for you to sleep. Creep through the whitethorn here and you’ll find a hole that leads into the stump. Squeeze in and rest yourself. The mushrooms emit a dim light so you’ll see clear enough in there if you need to.’

The lad looked at the dusk, he looked at the road, so long, straight and forbidding. He looked at the crow and underside of the dark hedgerow and thought, ‘in for a penny’ —and in doing so thought about the silver penny you may be sure. ‘Thanks sir Crow, I’m much obliged.’ says the lad. ‘I’ll have a bite and crawl in for the night. Would you care to join me, for I’ve meat, cheese and bread a plenty!’ ‘You’re a kind lad, and I’ll accept your gift, but only the meat and cheese I’ll take as the grains sore disagree with me.’

So the crow and the lad sat on the verge and ate from the bag of food until they were full. Then the crow cawed farewell and the lad crawled under the hedge to find the tree stump entrance. And wasn’t it dark in under that hedge and were the smells of the earth and hedge so full. Still he crawled and crawled until he found the stump; the stump but no entrance. He felt the stump and thought of the blind man, for sure as anything the blind man and he were just the same right now. Round the stump he made his way, feeling with his hands the rough surface, hoping to find this aperture through which he might enter, hoping the crow right now was not laughing to his wife about trick he had played and the feast he had gained.

The lad was tired, the lad was almost in a panic, for it seemed to him he had followed the base of the stump round for a long time now and that surely, if not already, he must have circumnavigated it in its entirety. This despair was fair upon him in total and he was about resolved to lie in the earth under hedge, when what should he spy but a faint glow. At first he could not tell if it were but one of those strange glows that emit from the depths of darkness as if by themselves, but then he saw it was no phantasm of light but a steady, faint orange glow that came from somewhere further round the stump. The lad scrambled on towards it, ignoring the enormity of time it seemed to take get round to it on a single, albeit large tree stump.

At last he gained a fuller sight of it and saw it was indeed a hole that lead into the stump. The warm welcoming orange glow shone softly from it. The hole was tight, but not too tight and he squeezed in with little difficulty.

Once inside what did he see? Oh oh oh! So strange a place as he had never cast his eyes upon, a small cave of soft spongey wood, the walls of which were covered with a great many mushrooms of all sizes. From this fungus came the glow, though in a sense it was hard to see how, for in a way it appeared as if the mushrooms were illuminated by the glow, yet they were also its source.

Though the place was a marvel, the lad was tired and tired as he was he lay himself out on the spongey floor and was soon fast asleep.