A Greek holiday in other people’s misery – 13th September 1994

Swing sweet sexy mistress
Come play concertos on my porch
as the night time glows dimly
into small hours, lay awake with me
dance your mysterious dances
cross white sheets, sticky in the heat
as roosters cackle the glory of the day
you are about to see through deep mists
sun breaking low, sky, a water colour
grey, orange, yellow, blue, engulfing stars
forgotten now in numbed and hazy glow
like playful seals, we jump in icy fresh waters
jump and dive, race and rest, submerged
let glory of nature rise from our toes
out through our fingers into the earth
parched and tortured, sunbeaten into submission
light trees stand and fight, dip and sway
in hot dusty breeze, the breath of god
all over this earth, our little island
inside our minds, our simple souls,
and touch these people in their simple lives,
made them worthy, made them whole
weary and tired, ignore the bustle
too simple, their lives, to even contemplate
a different, new improved way
sad we are with all our knowledge
blinding us from this, it’s just a holiday
it’s fun in the sun, week away from cloud
and sad you can see, the way I feel
taverna empty of locals
full of Krauts and Brits, getting drunk
emptying their pockets (as I have too)
and it’s just like home, where I am the local
and wouldn’t frequent these holes
here, set in ancient cities, cobbled streets
castles, cannonballs. The jewel of an empire
some thousand years before
now left to sell Pepsi and pizza in the ruins
of it all.

So here I sit on this double edged sword
in awe of the country and nature’s wonder
toads and lizards creeping up our wall
with old people struggling to live
by selling sun-hats to tourists
who breathe economy into lost cities
of generations ago, many before
here, paying my contribution in sun lotion
Agfa film and cocktails, endless.
Maybe tomorrow I will
contemplate the suicide of the world.

Breathless at the marvel of Acropolis stones
stood so long against the brunt of it all
now desperate to find a balance in the
modern world.

The new gods and goddesses hustling punters
for pocket money, for deck chairs on
the beach of fag butts and empty bottles of UV25
sweet green sea tempting sore feet
to tread through the barbed wire barricades.

Oh, soft clean waters consume us
Let us all fall into the sea, drag us under.

Take it all away.