Yes Page #6

l don't see the rhyme or reason

in this so-called grand design...

But then l don't believe, there is no sign

of him up there as far as l'm concerned

See... if there's one thing that l've

truly learned it's this: it's down to me

And you, of course

Each one of us is it, we are the source

of all the bad... and of the good things too

Well, out with it, what's happening with you?

At last you've got some color in your cheeks

l haven't seen you

look this way in weeks

Or maybe months

it even could be years

Don't tell me... you're in

love, aren't you my dear?

Not with that English

chap, what a mistake!

l knew it from the start

lt only takes another one to come along

and then your heart tells you that

frankly speaking, men are not all equal

Some are better, love

lt's just another trick from that one up above

if He exists, which He, or She, does not

Unless l didn't notice, or forgot

but l've a perfect memory...

l lie here running through the lot, l think

l'll die with all that information tucked away

l'd trade in all of it for

just one day, in Cuba

- Auntie? What did you say?

- You heard me, Cuba

l'd love to see the place, the people

the reality of how it all turned out

And Castro... Castro gave us hope he did

oh yes, he's better than the Pope...

l'd love to shake his hand

- You should go soon

- Yes

l tell you, we'll be living on the moon

before we have another go like that

A great big dream that's fallen pretty flat

in all the other countries where they tried

they'll regret it

Communism died, but

what came in it's place?

A load of greed, a life spent

longing for things you don't need

lf and when l die

l want to see you cry

l want to see you tear your hair

your howls of anguish fill the air

l want to see you beat your breast

and rent your clothes and all the rest

And, sobbing, fall upon my bed

l want to know that l am dead

l want to know l'm part of you and that

you cannot bear me being torn away

l want to see you dressed in black

with red-rimmed eyes from

sleepless nights of grieving

l want to hear you protest at me leaving

l want to see you in each

other's arms, and wailing

See you kick a chair

and punch the wall

and see you, moaning, fall

upon the ground and scream

l want to know this isn't just a dream

l want my death to be just like my life

l want the mess, the

struggle, and the strife

l want to fight and

see you fight for me

l want to hear your last regrets, the

things you wish you'd done and said

ln fact l'd like that

just before l'm dead

Don't let them put you off

or make you go, or say it's bad

For me, or makes it hard for

me to leave... it won't be true

l want to see you grieve

Don't let me drown

in silence all pious and polite...

Let's make a lot of noise!

A different kind of light will fill the room

l want my death to wake

you up and clean you out

And as l end l'll hear you shout

- No, no

- But l will go

No, please don't die

Life is so short and precious, let's

not waste what we've been given

Look, we have not faced the truth

Even the rages we express perhaps

contain the seeds of happiness

- Let's go... let's go to Cuba

- What?

Far away

From everyone, we've never spent a day

and night together, only an hour or two

Let's take the time

for just me and you...

- l'm in Beirut

- You are?

l have a friend we trained

and worked together

ln the end he stayed

he's married, now he has a son

There's only one life, this is it

Let's seize the time, l'll send

a ticket to you... l'll go on ahead...

- lt's many years...

- Since you have been there?

My auntie died, she

died, my aunt is dead

You'll have a lot to say, a lot

to share, l'll send the ticket anyway

Dirt doesn't go, it just

gets moved around

Some things get burnt

or buried in the ground

But fire makes smoke

and soot and greasy grime

And buried stuff

crops up after a time...

lt travels slowly, one could say it creeps

lt's all the water underneath, it seeps

God gave us eyes that do not

see too much or we'd go mad

We'd never want to touch

a bed again, a sofa or a chair

lf we could see the

things that live in there

There's millions of them

loads of things with legs

They fornicate and then

they lay their eggs...

They think our dirt is lovely, they

survive by eating what we shed

They are alive because

bits of us are dead

Now, smaller than the mites are germs

Well, we do what we can, we scrub

and scrub but they fly when we sneeze

on drops of moisture

packed out with disease

then all we have to do is take a breath

and they're inside us

fighting to the death

lt's not just germs, it seems

they're not the worst

There's viruses, some say they were the first

things to exist, and 'cause they are so small

They can't be cleaned

away, no, not at all

Not ever, that's why, really, in the end

there's no such thing as spotless...

You just send the dirt to

somewhere else, push it around

The work is endless

that is what l've found

Maybe this earth is just a ball of fluff

Some great big cleaner

out there said:
enough

And that is how we all survived, why not?

We're just the parasites that God forgot

The point is this, we never disappear

despite it being what we all most fear

We're certainly not

finished when we die

However hard the undertakers try

every single creature feeds another

Everyone is everybody's mother...

or, at the very least, a kind of host

When we expire perhaps we

change, at most, but never vanish

No, we leave a stain

a fingerprint, some mess

Perhaps some pain, some fear

or doubt in someone else's heart

Mum?

We leave a mess

in fact, when we depart

God if you exist...

l need to confess

Please speak to me, just once

don't make me guess your point of view

for l might get it wrong...

l know l have strayed so far

l don't belong in any church of yours

l sang the song of science

yes, l sang it every day

But, l could argue, that is how l pray

For twenty years, God, can it be?

l've cut, dissected, carefully and with

respect each living cell a source of wonder

Yes l tried to see

to penetrate your mystery

The point is, God, you never lie

but you have secrets so have l

Now all l was has

turned to ash and doubt

Others tasted me and

even stabbed me up

First is blossom, then there is decay

lmpermanence will never go away

ln fact it is the only certainty

There come a time when

l used to be but not quite yet

Oh God

Can you forgive me for not...

for not... believing in you?

- Seniora?

- Si?

Senior

When you look closer

nothing goes away

lt changes, see, like night

becomes the day and day the night

but even that's not true:

lt's really all about your point of view

Depending where you're

standing on the earth...

ln the end, it simply isn't worth

Your while to try and

clean your life away

You can't, for, everything

you do or say is there forever

lt leaves evidence

ln fact it's really only common sense

there's no such thing as nothing, not at all

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