A Quote by Maurice Evan Hare
There once was a man who said, “Damn!
It is borne in upon me that I am
An engine that moves
In predestinate grooves,
I’m not even a bus I’m a tram.”
IN NORTH CAROLINA
NORTH CAROLINA TREES
Tall pines, straight as railway sleepers,
Stun me with their skinny beauty
Some of these were old
When Abraham Lincoln was barely knee high.
And it is even possible that George Washington
Touched one or two as he rode by.
Durham was young when these pines first sprouted life
As were Raleigh, Charlotte, and Queensboro et al
Perhaps it was the Redcoats who seeded this lush terrain
Beauty shipped all the way
From England’s green and pleasant land
To conceal the carnage of their long and murderous campaign.
Kathy Kirby: Icon (UK)
Source: Kathy Kirby: Icon (UK)
OLD ROCK STARS
OLD ROCK STARS
Old rock stars don’t die of old age
But slide away slowly from the ivory stage
Of fame and recognition.
There’s only one pre-condition;
That you don’t die with your boots on
And always look like you
Have a raging hard-on.
IN PRAISE OF MONARCHS
IN PRAISE OF MONARCHS
He dug ditches in obscurity
Raised ten children to maturity
When pushed he said;
‘I do the best I can. Life’s hard
On the working man, but I mustn’t complain
I’ve got my health, while there’s others
Who can’t stop dying for all their wealth.
All that stuff in China…I wouldn’t give it
If they changed my lot for Royalty I wouldn’t live it.
There’s more to life than being famous you know’.
IF YOU COULD HEAR YOURSELF
IF YOU COULD HEAR YOURSELF
I wish you could listen
To the shit that
Comes out of your mouth;
Believe me when I say
It’s a lot better in than out;
Same old rhetoric;
Same old anti-everything spin;
Don’t believe the anti-christs
Who will tell you
It’s a lot better out than in.
It’s a sin to tell a lie
No matter which side you are on;
Just give it all away now
Then you can never get it back
When it’s gone,
Gone,
Gone…
HEMINGWAY WAS HERE
PAPA
The time is near
The clock is queer
I have had more than one beer.
Papa crept downstairs
In the early morning.
The keys are close to the time.
They open the locked cabinet beneath it.
The shotgun is quickly loaded
Two in the chambers just in case
Then the gun is heeled to the wall
And his forehead firmly anchors it.
Hands reach down –
And Bang!
Papa is no more.
THE HOODED MAN AT THE FOOT OF MY BED
THE HOODED MAN AT THE FOOT OF MY BED
The hooded man at the foot of my bed
Speaks to me
Of all creation
Since the Big Bang
Being measured by the products of decay.
Insanity, chaos, corruption
Lies, rot, ruin
Sickness, dirt and rust
Shed cells, dead cells, atrophy
Sweat, ashes and dust
That at a subatomic level
Create new mass.
And this goes on infinitely.
He talks of forbidden fruit and original sin
Walking into the light
Into streets paved with gold
Of extraterrestrials, gurus, ghosts
Paradise
And mixing with heavenly hosts.
Of hell and reincarnation
Being healed
Raised from the dead
Coming back as a lumberjack
A raven
Or a hunchback
Where will it all end?
I mean to ask my hooded friend
But suddenly he is nowhere to be seen.
KATHY KIRBY THE MUSICAL
KATHY KIRBY – ICON @ The White Bear Theatre, Kennington, London… 20th Oct – 8th Nov.
BE THERE!
https://www.facebook.com/KathyKirbyIcon?notif_t=page_invite_accepted
book available in paperback on Amazon.
SEPTEMBER IS THE LOVELIEST MONTH
SEPTEMBER IS THE LOVELIEST MONTH
September is the loveliest month.
The sky is on permanent fire
The trees painted many colours
Burnished, it seems, with pure desire
In the park, ducks glide silently by
And the always busy seagulls
Resemble sea-planes
Coming in to land from on high
Whilst near the dozing oak tree
The squirrels nutmeg each other
Each acorn hoarded
For the soon-to-come cold weather.
Your arm in mine
We stroll down the park
Heading towards the sunset
Home before dark.
My Writing Life 