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It Has Been a Long Revolution

Tractors, they tell me, are the future.

At least in Africa they are, at least in the

southern part.

Other factors, they tell me, wouldn’t suit her.

At least not with her wardrobe, at least not on

a donkey cart.

We’ve already sent her a truck load

of antiseptic,

We’ve already told her she can’t have surgery

out here.

At least not at the ranger station in August,

At least not until the government is

in the clear.

She took it badly, I must admit.

I hadn’t expected her to beat her head

against the wall.

I hadn’t expected her to resort to violence.

It’s been a long revolution,

I think she’s had enough of it all.

Diplomats, they tell me, have the answers.

At least in Africa they do, at least where

they’re ruled by the French.

Aristocrats, they tell me, don’t like tribal

dancers.

At least not in the afternoons, at least not in

front of the magistrates’ bench.

We’ve already explained there’s no more

brandy,

We told her that last Tuesday, we sent her

an email twice.

At least I think we sent it, we’re not good

with computers,

And she was never one for making much

of our advice.

Didn’t she take it badly, though?

Didn’t you reckon that was a bit over the top?

I hadn’t expected her to set fire

to the curtains,

But it has been a long revolution,

she probably wants it to stop.

Should I worry about this one, Bernard?

Do you think I should send a telex back

to HQ?

I’ve half a mind to get Naomi in here and

show her the photographs.

She’s pretty level-headed, she would know

what to do.

Anyway, body armour, they tell me, is

standard issue.

At least in Africa it is, at least under

Nelson Mandela.

I didn’t harm her, they tell me, she’s allergic

to tissue.

I’m sorry I wiped her face with one,

but I can’t bring myself to tell her.

We’ve already abandoned all our principles

for her,

That consignment of valium was the last

of the liberties we’ll take,

Apart from my cigars, the diplomatic bag

is sacrosanct,

Apart from the whisky, Club International

and my ginger cake.

I might have known she’d take it

pretty badly.

But honestly I didn’t know her fist had that

kind of power.

Go out to her truck and get me some

more antiseptic,

It has been a long revolution,

ask her to join me in the shower.

I snorted a line of poetry

I snorted a line of poetry, it felt good.

Knowing it’s illegal felt even better.

Well, not illegal but misunderstood,

Like an inkpen, like a handwritten letter.

The cops raided my writer’s meet,

Piled like savages into the coffee shop,

Their wild-eyed fury kind of sweet,

A textbook game of good cop/wistful cop.

I’m a banned substance in 2024,

What I believe in, my values, my schtick.

Might need a priest hole under my floor,

The persecution in the air’s so thick.

This used to be my world, my manor,

Not anymore, compadres, I’m on a list.

I could tear my trousers like David Banner,

But the new world would resist.

Come, let’s be disappointed together,

Leave us to be disillusioned in peace.

We can drink wine and complain

about the weather,

Argue about the best songs from Grease.

I inhaled a Shakespeare sonnet, what a buzz.

Knowing the kids would yawn buzzed bigger.

It’s funny feeling the thing Will does,

Defining the truth of us, sketching our figure.

The council stopped my poetry reading,

I was on a street, you see, without a permit,

They don’t like old boys like me succeeding,

Not in public, but okay as a hermit.

I’m a banned substance in 2024,

You mustn’t carry me or intend to supply.

Might need one of those cameras on my door,

Next time the fashion police swing by.

This used to be my world, my manor,

Not anymore it isn’t, I’m condemned.

I appear to represent a significant spanner

In their plan, which we’ll hear in the end.

Come, let’s be disappointed together,

Leave us alone in our room to be proved right.

Let us slag off the forecasters and

predict the weather,

And reminisce about TV on Saturday night.

Times change, that’s okay, but we should

not need to,

Not if we don’t want to, who’s to say we must?

Deconstructing ourselves wasn’t something

we agreed to,

You’ll respect us more for it, once we’re dust.

I injected a gram of Ulysses, could’ve been

coke.

Knowing coke’s much cooler was the hit.

They recommended cannabis but I don’t

smoke.

Joyce don’t make me cough like that other shit.

Health and safety paid me a door knock,

Wanted an inventory of my library books,

Seized two Brontes and a first edition

Brighton Rock.

A crack den next door and we’re the crooks.

I’m a banned substance in 2024,

I’m mainlining literature, they don’t approve.

For neighbourhood bookworms who

want to score,

My place is basically the Louvre.

This used to be my world, my manor,

Not anymore, ladies, I’m cancelled, closed.

Exceeding my literary limit I set off

their scanner,

They came for me while I dozed.

Come, let’s be disappointed together,

We’ll read our books out on the fire escape,

At heights unwuthering, the harebells

and the heather

Can be our secrets, while the others vape.