Tuesday, November 19, 2013

4764. WIRE HOME THE RAGE

WIRE HOME THE RAGE
Come on now, wire home the rage, bring the fires to
the hearth, let the whole world see your age. This is not
some damsel-wastrel pauper in distress, no Pauline in
peril down the rail-tracks' stretch. This is real life you
miserable wretch.
-
How many times have I imagined the dagger in your brain  -
my most beautiful silver-handled one, piercing the shit of
your brow, watching the filth seep out. I would laugh
like a cavalier clown  -  a different name in every country
I went, my Charlie Chaplin overview all yours. 
They haven't caught me yet.
-
'Scram-the-ram on the baby's pram.' That's how
they call it in Borstal and Bristol you know, 
about stealing a Paki child and running him down.

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