‘One or two good friends’

‘One or Two good friends’

(Romance on a Monday evening by Mr. Brent Downes)

For Maarja on the occasion of our two year anniversary…..

 

 

 

I

One, Only one, only one I need
The only one, the only one I believe to be
the only one, the one for me.

My neck is sweaty, my shirt is tight,
the birds sing, into the night
and what I say I might
just fall in love with
you tonight.

Fall in love, fall away far, fall away star
fall off the lands-ending, fall away far,
fall to the edge of the world and over its gar
fall over, fall away, fall in love
fall fast.

I’m here, in my toil, in my folly
Caught  up in the sound and the fury
(which signifies nothing)
lost in stress and worry
against forgetful kings and their spiteful quarries
I am here, in the ‘hey nonny nonny’
converting my sounds of woe to a flurry
and flush of hearts.

 

 

 

I’m here beside the sea,
behind the table
hid behind the mask as long as I was able,
against the sable
darkness of midnight
& hours I have dreamed within.

I’m here remembering the inches of your skin
and falling from love to lust- a sin
falling in love
the love within.

I’m here within, without
my love, my last love, my last night we spent
in each other, in love, in the dark
I’m here among the larks
converting their song of spring
into a tune to make the hours pass quicker
I’m here among the empty liquor
bottles, the empty plates
people moving, against traffic, against the wind
making their way
home, fall away.
I’m here today.

My only, only one, only one I need,
I’m here
despite all
for thee.

II

Name him forsaken.
Name him misshapen.
Name him unlucky or unloved.
Name him taken.
Name him shaken.
Name him disguised by star above.

Name him liar.
Name him fire.
Name him Son.
Name him No one.

Name him a poet.
Name him versus
Name him Nathanial.
Name him Perseus.

Name him enemy.
Name him ally.
Name him brother.
Name him priest.

Name him laughing.
Name him aftermath
Name him Saturday, barbeque and beer.

Name him fear.
Name him terror.
Name him pleasure.
Name him sympathy.
Name him agony.
Name him apathy.

Name him pathos
Name him, the Grand Final Hopes
Name him great names, great stars, boulevard names.
Name him to fortunes and fames.

Name him
Lionheart
Artur
Kalvipoev

Name him Homer
Sophocles
other Greek poets.

Name him epic
Name him hero.
Name him barrier.
Name him zero.

Name him failure
Name him President.
Name him renter
Name him resident.

Name him Bishop.
Name him Brian.
Name him purchase-hire.

Name him bank card
Name him broken heart.
Name him in the names of the parted roads, the bending trees and a river as still as a dream had at midnight.

Name him.
Quiet.
Name him proud.
Name him nude.
Name him aloud.

Name him lit.
Name him flirt.

Name him
put to his skin
the word
and tell him all you know
about being a man.

 

 

 

III

{Maarja: Juhan Liiv is to Estonia what T.S Eliot is to English.
Brent: What’s his status? Alive? Dead? Undead?
Maarja: Dead.
Brent: There are undead poets, you know. Shakespeare is undead. I’ll bet Tammasare gets up and walks around.
Maarja: Definitely.
Brent: Arthur Miller too, but we hit him with a shovel and put him back in the ground.
Maarja: LOVE!}

The jacaranda
& the forget-me-nots
are blooming in big bush
outside my office.

The wattle tree
is in flower
at midday, bees can be seen around it,
kissing the golden blooms.

She doesn’t get to see it or smell it
or touch my skin or kiss my lips.

Instead
she entertains my bad
& overeducated sense of humour.

Instead
we stay up
and watch two movies
on Friday night.

Instead
I try
to salve
her tears when
we have to part once more.

I’m reminded of an old song
and a feeling that is as ancient and as fragile as the human heart itself
love lost
love found, caught, had, and then lost again to the ethers
as melancholy sets in
and a night sea breathes its way onto the beach
to make its timeless love.

And as they part,
the naked and wet shore
reflects to a starlit heaven
inhabited by long dead poets.

As they part
sea & shore
I can hear the distant waves
weep
and
roar.

IV

 

 

Out on the shore
watching the storms
counting the flecks of ash in the air.

Out on the shore
watching the thunder
and lightning
make its loud symphony over Morton Bay.

Out on the shore
watching the squall
I see the hermit crabs bury themselves in sand.

Out at Byron
on that Eastern point
the lighthouse plays its heavy tune
and shines its light to the eyes of captains and the hope of sailors.

O- Stay away from the rocks.
O- stay away from the rocks.

My love is like that lighthouse
and like the shore.

And I am the storm
raging
over distant islands asleep in their dreaming.

She is
just beaming
and singing
in the language that says
come home, bonnie love,
come home to me, come away, come home.

Come home, bonnie love
I’ll see you when you make landfall.
Come home, bonnie love.
Come home.

The storm comes in
drenches me to the bone
but I am happy.

I smile
and flash a toothy grin
from the shore
to the bay
in the eye of the storm
across the way

 

 

V

I have moved on wings of dark hours
seen the armies move to war, seen nations move to strike.
Sat and listened to the lies.
And fallen in love nonetheless.

I have cleaned filthy dogs
Swept floors, unclogged sinks
I have been worse for time and drink
And fallen in love nonetheless.

I have been made insane.
I have spent time in the asylum
With the melancholics and the violents
And the alchoholics and psychotics
And the obsessive and the neurotics
And I have fallen in love nonetheless.

I have drunk homemade moonshine.
I’ve smoked behind the bushes, near the sport shed, in the school
I’ve spent many years playing the fool
And have fallen in love nonetheless.

I have lived a young man’s life.
Fast cars, loose women and hours spent intoxicated.
I have lied, scammed and faked it.
And have fallen in love nonetheless.

I have rarely held back my opinion
Caused a bit of upset and friction
And have fallen in love nonetheless.

I have had my heart cleaved in two.
I have slept with people who are bad for me.
I have lived hard and swiftly.
And have fallen in love nonetheless.

I have been counted among the ranks of poets.
I have written a thousand lines of mostly trash
I have become a cheap-rhyming hack.
And have fallen in love nonetheless.

I have spoken my words, said my rhymes.
I have looked down to my watch and seen the time.
I have seen New Year’s been and gone.
I have answered the ringing phone.
And fallen in love nonetheless.
Fallen in love nonetheless.

I’ve been there and back again
Grown up and found myself, man,
And fallen in love nonetheless
Fallen in love nonetheless.

VI

As I have got older
I realise
one or two
good friends
is all you need.

If you have
one or two
think of yourself lucky.

As I have got older
I know
everything fades
in time.
Everything fades away.

But one or two
good friends
one or two
make this life
pass
more smoothly.

I used to have a dream
where I had a party
and counted the people absent.

Too long have I been in love with absent friends.
Too many times have I toasted their name.

Now,
I toast those here,
those at my table
under the storm sky
dark and sable
drinking,
laughing,
eating,
loving,
one or two friends
and I’m becoming
one or two bits more than myself and my own heart.

I’m finding in them, my best parts.
These one or two good friends…..

 

 

 

Fin