We never heard of Nutcrackers and you wouldn't lend us a hammer
When you meet
.
Let shyness slip, like sunlight off a lake
you're home and can sink into
long longed for warmth
.
and feel the thrill of spilling incandescence
an essence of acceptance
a nameless need for more
.
clutch with your grasping fingers
linger on the trace of folding
when you find the magic, hold it
keep it safe, and keep it fast
your very life depends upon it
feed it, love it, make it last
No one's driving the bus this week - anarchy reigns! So what better poem than a memory of a nightclub where anarchy first became reality in my own little head anyway... This place was legendary, and was knocked down a few years back - I think the other passengers might be found on NanU's blog here
Henry’s
A dirty wall sweating and dark endless place
The rhythms the friendship the fire
The smoking in corners, the girl off her face
Toilet Mags handing rags to the choir
The puking in sinks, the spilling of drinks,
And dancing of limbs that were crazily light
The pulsing of shapes, the laughs, the mistakes
The typical mad Henry’s night
The mud on your back, lollipop in your hair
A kerb that you sat on outside it
Made friends with a whole world each friday night
An innocence that never died
And they knocked it, destroyed it, demolished it down
Full of drugs, full of song, such a low reputation
And the bouncers were thugs, and us all only mugs
Getting sucked in along the sensation
Of the music, the money, but twas only one P
Some nights and we went in pyjamas
It was dirty and rough, but we sure did fly free
‘mongst the beer, and the mud, and the dramas
