The flavour of the common ilk


We are coloured by the sun
Although the thing we want is fun
We pray for better times to come
And as I search the sky
For the little word to rhyme
I feel I should have done this
When I was in my prime
Like a splendid career in politics
Stirring things up only to resign
When the power starts to decline
In favour of another kind
To fade away and spend greater time
In the privacy of the green garden
Far from the madding crowd
That gets drunk and oh so loud
Shattering walls for thrills
Ready to break noses
Tear up the bushes of roses
The taste of flesh and the blood
Of Beowulf's guile
Flowing in the veins
Holding the leathered reins
Unruly and lusty like bucks
Not even tamed by the genteel
Words of a new language turning
Deaf to the Latin warning
Making short work of the Shropshire ale
Yes, far from the howling halls
Of useless debates about rolls and calls
With well meaning actors and activists
Looking around for lonely accolades
Doing nothing for the promenades
Where the working classes vomit
There sadness of the Saturday night
Who will pay for the light
Spinning around on the Police car
Sent to clean up the hedges
Of boys and girls living out pledges
To own freedom to please their urges
Copulate and populate
Their minds for conversations
in later years of commiserations
About the wreckage caused
In the waiting rooms of broken souls
With glazed eyes round like owls
Hoping that they will be still awake
For another few days of lost memories
A newborn babe in another room
Smiles at the cardigan of his dad
While mum is only too glad
To release this expectant life
Giving it all with her loving milk
The flavour of the common ilk

Lucignano 10 5 2007