Uncle Dick Died Last Week

Uncle Dick died last week. He was a market gardener and good friend of my father's. The event brought back memories of Dad. I wrote this. I don't know if all of it is true.

My father was a kind man

In times of war he was not adverse to killing
Or sleeping with strangers

He believed in everyone
Guaranteed no one

SO LONG

Of course after dinner
He wanted to call it a day

The party was over
The festivities done
But they talked well into the night
Lingering on the bottom of the bottle
They wanted somewhere to belong

Never realised
It was all over
Jesus, himself
Was the first to get up from the table
He knew the time had come to move on

The Bothy of Our Love

Duddon Valley June 2007

Heels and Banana Bonoff Pie

You had a fetish for cold sex
Cava
Audio presentations of life's future text

Pomegranate Pavlov a
A mellow mind centre of eiderdown
Sprinkled with red regrets
Peaks and troughs
Your cunt saved me from loneliness

A vegetarian on a black leather suite
Niceness was not your only passion
Wet kisses and sweethearts were back in fashion

We waited for the dining room to find us all alone
Four eyes whispering take me home

Take me home
The sweetest things we made our own
The sweetest love is love home grown

Pissing in the River

My friend told me to go see the old bands. She told me to enjoy what I know so I went to see Patti Smith. She was wonderful, she had a presence, she had such a pwerful voice, she was andrgonous, she was such a strong woman, she was funny and she was nice. She took the time to explore Glasgow and incorporate what she saw in the set, talking about the cathedral and Necropolis in between blasting out classic tracks like Free Money and Gloria.

" I walk up to the microphone and I have no fear"

As the sun went down they started to dance
The light drifted into a hollow glow
The flames started to kindle
The day was a shadow
The night go

Patti Smith

I'm going to see Patti Smith tomorrow. Must think of something to wear.

No one is illegal

I walk my children on the hard shoulder
To the bothy of your love

I shelter their eyes from the camera
When we journey
To the bothy of your love

I will salvage what is warm and dry
In the bothy of your love

I hug my children in the wonder of your love

I will wake before the rising sun
In the bothy of your love

I will cup cool clear water
In the morning of your love

And when the Rowan is fully grown
We will walk happily
from the bothy of your love