Days on end of decadence

Dissolute and burning from bar to protest

Dancers blur in dub beneath Achilles

−a black and red flag


Now cascading explosions on the Tay

Radiant sun settles deep

A mind gone to ruin, all blank

and dumb


Money as mythology in those rooms

so many empty prayers squandered

neo-Pagan gods

hedonism and carnival

the taste of her between my lips

a private revolution


And laughing through Soho streets

Later, snug approaching frenzied coma

our own redlight district

caught between the days


With her in those places

Sundrenched brilliance on Carnaby Street

Silence of worn out debris of bed

Talking idle as we drink

Talking dirty in minicabs


Now here again

little town pretending

at a city

lives less distant

less full of grim hope

of torturous narrative

a place besieged

by boredom


and I remember Kierkegaard


It resembles now a cage

a cage to keep our passions numb

our protests silently dumb

a cage to keep her beauty

all her dark magnificence

the fire around which I danced



beneath this Scottish sun

already burning cold and lifeless

Freezing still the river Tay





2 Responses to “Achilles”

  1. Very vivid and powerful poem.

    • 2 dronemodule

      As ever, cheers for the words. A collision of my weekend down in London. Desire and protests. Very ’68. IT was the Achilles statue I liked the most though, as an emblem.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: