Poetry – Metropolis

Darkroom

The Doors are finishing
JJ Cale just kicking in
The ink on the page shines as I write
My room is thick with the scent
Of beautiful, mysterious, lusted-after women
The light is low, suggestive, forgiving
My world of the moment is like a seedy story
Full of promise, frustration, dreams, unspoken poetry
Gosh
Four fine days of undefinable madness
Have passed here
I am left confused, empty, bewildered
Yet life’s rich pageant
Has been kind to me

A half-Turkish intellectual sleeps on the floor
Full of his own dreams, lusts
I’ve heard the stories
The jigsaw
It is hard to fit together, even for my neutral ear
Meanwhile I am conscious still
Thinking of the world
Thinking of her
Thinking thinking thinking thinking

Back to the darkroom, with its memories around me
People come in and out of your life
Some of them, some really beautiful ones
Have been here
In this room, in my mind
Recently

I have had giggling madness
Love of music, love of headstrong soulmates
Companionship, smiling strangers
Mad new friends
Going for it, here, in this place
But they are gone, away
It’s been a long week in this room
JJ Cale plays on
In Istanbul

- Istanbul, November 2005

Ill all day

After an ill day in bed
Well again
I’m cool, calm, collected, looking good
Coming up
A moment alone, of reflection
Before the off
Instructions received
Heading downtown
To meet five Turks
Let’s see what happens
Only young once

- Istanbul, November 2005

 

Lives

Late November
Its raining in Istanbul
A night and a day of passion
Alone again, I pick up the paper
An obituary
Alfred Anderson
Last survivor of the 1914 Christmas truce
Oldest man in Scotland, 109
Has died
The world turns

- Istanbul, November 2005

Room 32 Finale

So, here I am
Alone again
Tens of people have washed through this room
Partied, slept, meditated
Shared the moments
With one another
Weekly forays into debauchery and madness
Adventures in this big fat crazy city
I have felt that pulse for a while
From the first tentative steps
To the growing vibe, the gathering crowd, the passing storms
16 empty vodka bottles
Give some sort of handle
The last weekend was the finest
The most magnificent of all
Then I have my beautiful actresses
And we sit, the three of us
Talking
About everything
Then they too, like everyone else
Are gone
And I am alone
In room 32

- Istanbul, December 2005

 

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