Sunday, 27 November 2011

My Friends, My Grievance

It’s funny the relationships
That we carve out.
My best friend Jack
I’ve known since
I don’t know when,
And we’ve been best friends
Since I was nine
And he was eight -
The year behind in school,
Almost but not just quite.
If you asked me what we talked about
Or what we had in common then,
I couldn’t give the vaguest clue.
But I loved him then,
I love him now;
I hear his voice in all I do,
He passes judgement on all I meet -
A brother,
If a brother was a man
Who always lived within your head,
Whilst also out there in the world;
Who you don’t need to hear or see
To feel his friendship constantly.

My other friends
(I have a few):
A girl I was in love with,
But couldn’t have;
Another who I thought I was
Who never knew;
A guy I knew for years and years
And never took the time to talk to,
Until our friendship grew and grew -
Grew while others I once had valued
Faded out or I gave up on
As wastes of time or pointless prattle.

The most recent friend that I have made -
If Jack’s the best friend to the child -
He’s the best friend to the adult.
We’ve not been friends that long, I s’pose,
But the history that I share with Jack,
With him lies all up ahead there,
In the future.

So that’s the list - it’s not exhaustive.
I chose the ones I did
There is a link that ties the few
And privileges them to presence
In this poem:
They’re the ones to whom I feel
I don’t need to say a word.

And now we get
Round to my theme:
I love these guys because
It’s words that really busts my gut.

It might be me and me alone
(I’m sure it’s not)
But I’m really not that good with words.
I make them do all kinds of things -
I’m pretty good at that, it’s true;
But not even I,
With all those GCEs, those A levels,
AS too, and a degree,
Can make those fuckers
Mean a thing.

I talk to people; tell them things,
But the trouble is
I can’t believe a word I say.
It all sounds great, I know -
It’s fun to make it sound that way.
Some sounds crude and some sounds fancy;
Some even rhymes and some’s romancy.
But what I fear, and sometimes feel
I know is true,
Is that words can never, never
Be sincere.
I feel that I should warn the people
That I know:
All words are poison,
Not just mine,
Yours are too.

The problem is
That words are really all they give you
To reach out there and know a person,
And that seems tragic
If the same is true of you
As what is true of me.
I’m a simpleton;
My mind’s a blank -
My body is the only
Part of me that’s ever frank.
The ones I value,
The ones I truly love,
They know it deep within their core:
I’m not complicated,
Nor are they.
But that’s not something
Most people like to say.

I much prefer your simple side,
Whoever you may be,
And however complicated
You might think you are,
Because I am so simple
I don’t believe a word -
Not one of yours, not one of mine.

So if I could make the world
As I’d like it to be,
I’d flush away complexity
And set the simple free.