Blood on the Tracks



I was up at the British Museum today where I caught the following.  It is the day after the “terrorist” attack at Westminter and I expected to find London heaving with police – to my careful eye I saw plains-clothesmen everywhere.  Anyway, it’s a long way from mundane Bath and I took a notebook to see what might inspire in the Great Smoke and I came up with the following verse, after Bob Dylan and Patti Smith.


It feels like it’s overfull of red

It opens the colour patterns with red dye and eels

The redness without nourishment for

The right side of the wheel

I will stop if it patterns

A bloodstain opera to a heart

Less chattern that they see

Which must be a weir for the time

To open the docks has come to a head

And that means a Dear Home Brother

Has been secluded again from the right of man

To live a free life

Abid the Monsignor of Love called the Rent

Of the Mere Mortal

Called the Romp of the Roe and I do not care if

It would be here or not as I try to share it without notes

Of Foregone Conclusion:

It is about a Time to be Here and go again

And that makes it more

Than a Memory Train through it and Bye! For now C ya B.




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