Place-Names of China
Written by Alan Bennett
Bolding Vedas! Shanks New Nisa!
Trusty Lichfield swirls it down
To filter beds on Ruislip Marshes
From my lav in Kentish Town
The Burlington! The Rocheter!
Oh those names of childhood loos -
Nursie rattling at the door knob:
'Have you done your Number Twos?'
Lady typist - office party -
Golly! All that gassy beer!
Tripping home down Hendon Parkway
To her improved Windemere.
Here I sit, alone at sixty,
Bald and fat and full of sin,
Cold the seat and loud the cistern
As I read the Harpic tin.
Thursday, October 04, 2012
National Poetry Day
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
as mediated by the spirit voice of Al Read
This literally came to me in a dream. It helps if you can hear the voice in your mind's ear.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree...
"A pleasure dome? A pleasure dome? What the thump's a pleasure dome?" - that's the wife from the kitchen.
"Oh, hello love."
"Go on then, what's a pleasure dome?"
"Well... It's like a big building and you go in there and you... well you go there to enjoy yourself."
"Oh aye? Just like you and your boozy mates in that shed of yours out in the back. Sat round supping ale and telling each other mucky stories."
"Well that's where you're wrong: it's not like my shed."
"I should think not. Going round decreeing pleasure domes. I ask you. And when are you going to do something about that shed?"
"What's up with that shed? There's nothing wrong with it."
"Nothing wrong with it? For one thing, the door's been hanging off it this past eight months. Anyone could get in there. Or anything. It's got so I daren't go in to use the mangle in case I find a fur stole I've not got."
"Well, I'm not doing anything with that shed. I'm busy decreeing my pleasure dome."
"And where are you having this pleasure dome may I ask? You're not digging up that rhubarb again. If was down to you we'd have nothing for our supper."
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
"Alf? Who's Alf? Another of your drinking cronies?"
"No, I told you woman: Alph's the sacred river."
"What sort of a name is Alf for a sacred river?"
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
"And when are you going to sort out the damp in that cellar?"
"Oh, stop your wittling woman! I'm talking about the sacred river Alph, five miles meandering with a mazy motion through wood and dale."
"Aye, with ten pints of ale down its neck, I'll be bound! And I'm telling you now: pleasure dome or no pleasure dome if I find you palling round with any more Abysinnian maids with their dulcimers you'll be getting a thick ear."
"I don't know what you mean, love."
"I don't know what you mean, love? Well let me tell you, my lad, Kubla Khan? Kubla bloody can't. So pack it in!"

