From The London Monologues


The sleek intentions of the age
Bar me in a polished cage,
And svelte exponents of the ought
Throw poisoned mottoes for their sport.

(But I have seen a sixth-form girl
Whose glancing delicate bright eye
Gives all her serious studied views
The lie, the lie.

And as she does the old routine
Of "People should..."
I wonder does she see what she
I know could

In fire become, responsible
Opinions cast aside,
Confronting all the nervous truth
Quite open-eyed?)


You ask me about the arm and I tell you.
It's the summertime, right, and I was
Just hanging round when these fellers
Come charging, big fellers. Now mind you,
I'm neutral, strictly just watching.
Bad times, sure, but what good's politics
If it's messing trade and throwing half-bricks?
Count me out. I'm simply standing
When the bullet gets me. I can't say
What place it came from, it was all confused.
The doctor takes his time, but he saves the arm,
Or that's his story. On a good day
I can move the fingers. You get used
To anything, even the government. They don't mean harm.


When they called me a comprehensible machine I
Giggled, but pouring treacle in the clockwork's only
Another way of dodging the issue. I know that.

In the same way, front garden roses,
Even abundant, are small protection
Versus the sick gods of the North Circular.

Defiant I shall, I shall be prodigal with meaning
(Values not being inherent).
With a lightning sketch I redefine the apple.

Of course, maggots and mould still get it.

Skinner said, "My system's true."
I answer, "So what else can you do?"
His reply - "You."

They're talking about the electron level; I
Don't understand it. I'm frightened
So much has already been drained.

I told them, "Bury
My spleen in Kilburn". But then all cowardice
Aspires to the condition of showbiz.

So posing or moaning won't
Solve much, big news. Throwing my fag-end
Away, I get back to the job.

Creativity and freewill proved at a stroke. Zow!


As I said to this girl, my eyes rolling:
Let me explore your rich Orinoco,
Send expeditions to the fertile heartlands,
Offer nice twinkling beads and with spiky
Bangles trap you, enslave and pillage,
Root deep for minerals,
Foster excited commerce, mould centres of growth
Till all your hinterland thrills through with
Dizzying vistas of development.
Canny, I'll tickle up your independence movement, and
I'll corner, by conceding it, control.

And should I drift, your assets quite done through,
Then find, my sweet, your destined apotheosis,
A humid paradise for insensitive tourists
(Visits to the game park easily arranged in season).


Hard anger quivering, self-hatred builds
With words his dancing castellated songs
- So I describe me; the spiralling phrase
I trust in its turning moment, and then nothing.

So I describe me, and then bite
At the words I use until they're
Leaky, and I can escape
Into the unnamed, doubt, all of it.

So I describe me, and then groan
At this passion for describing.
I posed as an autophage and all
For an audience of me. It's loony

And what are the sobbings of fools to the
Passionate crying of
Real children? I've
Heard my own choking buck inside me and out

Of this liar of a mouth
So often it bores me. I've
Done this, I've done that,
Pretending, pretending my hard anger.


Some true statements lie.
I could never call a mirror dry
Though cold and passionless as I...

I, I mean I, I'm a husky shell,
Throw back dry bones to a green world,
And dessicate, no shiner.

Although the mouths move, mirrors still can't speak.
Our best philosophies all leak
And woodworm drills the most respected teak.

Help I'm drowning what a rat
I jumped off quick and then kicked holes
In the old tub, I'm laughing.

Laughter when the earth meets sky
Blisters through eternity.
Truth blossoms in an honest eye.
Some true statements lie.

Wayne Carvosso

If you've any comments on his poems, Wayne Carvosso would be pleased to hear from you.