THE WARM AND THE KIND

THE WARM AND THE KIND

Labouring to assert itself
A tame electric light
Made an opal cotton curtain
Amber in the night.

Outside it was superfluous
As summer raged and bloomed
And all this touched my soul
So that my infancy resumed.

It took me back to caravans
And all which paints the theme
Of being cared and catered for
Under a kind regime.


TIM SANSOM 16TH MAY 2008

WE THE PUBLIC

WE THE PUBLIC

We the public
Paint our nails
Turn in circles
Chase our tails


We the public
Send our faxes
Sit on crappers
Pay our taxes.


We the public
Wash our faces
Flush our faeces
Tie our laces.


We the public
Kiss our spouses
Rot in factories
Dwell in houses.


We the public
Go on line
Send our texts
And read true crime.


We the public
Drink in dives
And break up with
Our modern wives


We the public
Do our best
To earn more money
Than the rest.


We the public
Forward notions
So as to attain
Promotions.


We the public
Hope all see
When we tend
Our Bonsai trees.



2


We the public
All invest
We plan ahead
We feather nests.


We the public
Ail and age
Lose our zest
And quash our rage.


We the public
Roam round lost
But always keep
Our fingers crossed.


We the public
Trust and vote
And swim the
Party leader moat.


We the public
Pass and die
In the public
Turf we lie.


We the public
We the public
We the public
We the public
We the public.


Some of us
Walk other ways
Do different deeds
And solve the maze.
3


Hymns and things
Help us hope
We’re resolute
To never mope.


Prayer can’t hurt
The hard try game
Pause to reflect
Be done with blame
For me the Man
And you the girl
And him the soldier
And them the cousins
And we the public.



TIM SANSOM 17TH MARCH 2008

BUT NOW IT'S AN ARCADE

FORGOTTEN CAFÉ


Here Nosegays got dragged on by dishevelled spivs
While intrigued historians observed how one lived
And bank jobs got planned over fowl cups of tea
And the loveys came in from the theatre at three

But now it’s an arcade.

Overweight ruddy faced ladies guffawed
And drunks spewed expletives as coffee pots roared
And tobacco smoke billowed to form a dense cloud
So that even eccentrics got lost in the crowd.

But now it’s an arcade.

Mods aired contempt here for old die hard Teds
With a quid’s worth of blues they’d be bombed off their heads
Sipping on cokes telling bum pinching jokes
Their Vespas a gleaming from mirror to spokes.

But now it’s an arcade.

Old girls with beehives would moan at the prices
‘Is that all the change from ten Bob for two slices?’
Occasional vagrants came in trying it on
‘ Giv us a tanner son and I’ll be gone!’

But now it’s an arcade.

Everyone listened to heavyweight fights
On a crackly wireless on Saturday nights
They’d congregate with an at tentative ear
And in wonderful unison hollowed and cheered.

But now it’s an arcade.

This was a place to come in for a warm
And where lasting and meaningful items were formed
This was a haunt where we came to be sane
In that pleasantries could be explained and exchanged!
But now its an arcade.


TIM SANSOM 20TH MARCH 2008