Against The Wall?

The Kraut turned sour,
they'd told him that the coach left on the hour.
Looks like another Treaty of Versailles.
It was hardly our fault,
as the machinery ground to a halt.
Let's just look forward to Saturday night.
But our spirits dropped,
something like poppies in the Albert Hall.
Against the wall.

In Gregg's all night burger bar,
sits some would- be movie star,
waiting for her chauffeur to find his keys.
And for Gregg, the chicks come easy,
they don't mind if the burgers are greasy,
they're only too willing,
to get down on their knees.
In the wings sit the boys in blue,
waiting for this stage curtain to fall.
Against the wall.

Hired guns quit the dance,
fire blanks at the hollow drum of romance.
Just adding to the confusion.
Ballerina Jane trips the high wire,
falling head first into the fire.
Stoking the ovens of illusion.
And tomorrow Miranda will boast:
"Last night I had a ball"
Against the wall?



Capability Red 1980

Limehouse Lament

As bold as an opening batsman, stands the wild, ex colonial boy.
His face could have been carved out of close grained teak.
With him on the street you just can't feel relaxed.
Insubordination glows like a radiation, as his eyes shift rapidly this way and that.
Maturing sinew flexing under a Lonsdale sweatshirt.
He waits alone as the early autumn night draws in.
Hopes and ambitions setting slowly in cement.
Limehouse lament.

Dim lights glow, behind a dirty steamed window of the kebab house.
Next door to The Londoner, boarded up, closed after all these years.
Perfect scenery for the drawn out faces of young east end school girls.
Scurrying home after a netball match.
Home, to look after little brother, while Mum does her cleaning job.
A role she will forever resent.
Limehouse lament.

The unrecognised oral epigrams hopelessly lost in the early evening mist.
Doubtlessly cast to meander forever unchallenged.
As does everything that is vague.
And the weightlessness of dreams, escaping the gravitational pull of this awful reality.
Drifting out through the stratosphere.
Perhaps someday, they will make someone happy.
But today, cry pity for the dreamer.
For so long as he continues to waken from the dream,
he shall never feel content in this,
Limehouse lament.


Capability Red 1983

You Can't Get Angry Anymore

You suspect that you exist inside a Hopper masterpiece,
frozen, like a nighthawk in a frame.
Sinking in a glass of your own regret,
yet, you know that 'The Man' is to blame.
You listen to reviews of films you'll never watch,
and tune in to a voice you cannot hear.
Overstay your welcome with an imaginary friend,
and identify with Sam The Schizoid's fear.
And do you do as you're told, where once you used to break the law?
'Cos you just can't get angry anymore.

Are you bleak and remote like a Dartmoor prison cell,
in that life of denial that you lead?
Years of asking questions and waiting for an answer,
Still you see through the lies that you read.
Did you exorcise your demons? and fears you never mention?
from always seeking someone else to blame.
Was there comfort in the crowd? No need to speak aloud,
with your back turned against that ageing window frame.
And now, do you leave it up to someone else to march against the war?
Because you just can't get angry anymore.

Were you once the fugitive on route eighty six?
were you the one they used to talk about in code?
Did you wear the badge with pride? Never one to hide,
while your friends dropped in the middle of the road.
Was you hefted like a pawn in someone else's move?
and sacrificed along with your class.
Now you sit and watch the sun go down and hear the robin sing,
as the shadows slowly creep across the grass.
And you follow the piper's tune, that you used to ignore.
Because you, just can't get angry anymore.



Capability Red August 2011

Trapped In This Moment In Time

The gunner is tumbling, frozen in free-fall,
sealed in a turret, he can never escape.
He relives their final kiss.
Trapped in this moment in time.

A girlfriend sits silently in shock,
waiting alone by the gates of forever.
In her thoughts, he remains,
trapped in this moment in time.

A pair of green eyes lighten the depths.
A pair of wings shine in the wreckage,
always within touching distance, but.
Trapped in this moment in time.

Their ghostly silhouettes cling to the mist
that drifts across haunted generations.
At least, they, have each other.
Trapped in this moment in time.

Vapourized love letters rain down,
like tears upon cold Portland stone.
Cherished words echo in their hearts.
Trapped, in this moment in time.


Capability Red July 2011

Last Day Of Term

Tall railings remind you,
doubts in the back of your mind.
The gates are closed,
was there, something you left behind?
Maybe; your hopes, your future,
that certain something you always seemed to lack.
Turn around my little girl,
you know you can never go back.

Cling to your memories,
happy hours and playground games.
But, wasn't it your best friend,
that always called you names?
You hurt inside, but laughed aloud,
with a smile that would never crack.
Turn around my little girl,
you know you can never go back.

There's a certain sadness,
attached to the last day of term.
It's too late to revise,
what you never, ever learned.
Just now that distant light at the
end of the tunnel fades to black.
Turn around my little girl,
you know you can never go back.


Capability Red aprox 1990

Poetry For You :

Try and understand me, when I say; that the pillars are about to crack.
But if you can't, just cling on to every other word,
the way you used to cling onto my back.
In the days, when we were both as thick as shit,
or, should I say naive?
It sounds a little more apt, now I really come to think about it.
And I've got little else to do,
but write some poetry for you.

See that fat man on the corner? So meticulously bred.
His epicurean taste buds are on twenty four hour alert,
you know; you and me still keep him well fed.
He longs for those good old days, when he could just ring,
and our fathers would jump down some stinking trench.
Recently, his options matured, he gladly wallows in the stench.
So, you can either read postcards without a view.
Or, shall I write some poetry for you?

Remember the day you wore that flowing cape,
and we went walking in the rain?We shared our inner feelings,
but since that day, we never took that path again.
It's not gonna rain forever, but it seems;
there's always clouds in the sky.
Somehow, I wish it would rain forever, to hide these tears in my eyes.
My heart is overflowing too,
it's pouring into this poetry for you.



Capability Red. June 2011

The Queen At Poplar Bus Garage

As part of the royal itinerary,
her advisors thought it proper,
that the Queen should visit a bus garage,
so they chose the one at Poplar.

To avoid any demonstrations,
the trip was kept 'hush hush'.
But, when she arrived on December 2nd:
Embarrassment, was like a royal flush.

Buckingham Palace didn't know,
that Poplar garage had closed.
So, it was a case for improvisation:
Remember; the king's new clothes!

A 'Gold Badge' pointed out;
" The Queen's obviously pretty dim,
If we say the buses are invisible.
I bet, she'll never fall in!"

And so the visit went ahead,
with the 'Gold Badge' as her guide.
Showing the Queen invisible buses,
but, not letting her take a ride.

Media coverage was cancelled,
LT News was given the tip,
and the lackeys that followed the Queen around,
were told; " button your lip".

After the visit was over,
the 'Gold Badge' had a notion,
a brilliant idea,
that was sure to get him promotion.

Reflecting on her Majesty's visit,
which really went down swell,
he suggested: " Let's close Hornchurch,
Elmers End and Bexley garages as well!"

The suggestion became policy,
the bosses were ever so keen,
noting that when those garages close,
they would have to invite the Queen.


Capability Red. aprox 1984