GORDON WARREN | POEMS 1980s

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SOME POEMS - 1980s

FOR I KNEW NO BETTER

I came into the world, locked up in a death camp.

Imprisoned for years with the same people.

This was my life, my only existence.

I knew nothing else except death and decay.

How much more can we all take?

The world is alien to people and peace.

When will we all wake up from our sleeping?

We can’t just go on in the same old ways.

For years, I was confined with pain all around me.

For years, I saw and smelt nothing but death.

For years, I was stepping over decaying corpses.

The mutilated remains of historical past.

We all spent years killing and maiming,

making peoples’ lives such a great misery.

We all just took whatever we wanted,

making people suffer for our own selfish greed.

But all this suffering didn’t affect me.

It was my whole life, my only real world.

No other reality came into vision.

This was my only true view of the world.

For years, I was subjected to pain and distortions,

which I accepted as nothing but the norm.

I believed that suffering would always continue.

That death and decay could never be stopped.

But in the outside world, I saw a new vision.

The real world around me was different and new.

I can now see a new life, a bright new reality.

A different life in a different light.

You see, I accepted it just without question.

I couldn’t see anything but despair and loss.

I thought we were powerless and had no future.

I believed it all for I knew no better.

FUTILE DEATH OF TWO SENSIBLE SOLDIERS

A friend of mine was unemployed,

he didn’t know what to do.

So he went down to the Army office and

said “I want to join you”.

So they sent him off to war,

for something he didn’t know.

They put a gun in his hand and

said “shoot the ones across the road”.

So he squatted down in the mud,

with the shit, the bullets, the bodies and the blood.

Trying to think of the ones he loved.

Trying to ignore all the death and the pain.

Then he saw the enemy come up to him.

He got his gun and went over to them.

He looked him straight in the eyes,

“That’s the first mistake”, the Officers replied.

For he saw a young man about his age,

he said “You’re the enemy, I must shoot you dead!”.

The man said “Why?” and stood there still.

My friend was silent and thought a lot.

His mind went crazy, he couldn’t shoot.

He couldn’t see why the war was on.

Why was he fighting? What’s to be won?

Why shoot a man the same as him?

So he put his gun on the ground,

and the enemy did the same.

The Officers went up to them,

and shot them both in the brain and said

“They should have played the game”.

Then carried on the war,

like all those times before.

Safe in their bunkers,

with a gin and a straw!

CONFINED IN THE MIND

I’m crouched in the same dark cold corner.

The empty damp corner of my cell.

The corner I’ve sat in for so long.

The corner I know so well.

Every chip in the paintwork.

Every damp patch on the floor.

I know this corner.

It’s the same as it was when I came before.

But it now seems I’m here forever.

There’s no getting out this time.

I’m going to sit in this same lonely corner,

till my spirit goes and I die.

The cold, the damp, the hunger pains.

The feeling of being alone.

The loneliness of waking up,

and seeing the walls you’ve seen for so long.

No one around, nothing to call your own.

The feeling and warmth of the sun shining through.

I jump up and down to try get a view.

But the hole is too high, I can’t even smell,

and nobody hears me if I yell.

But what’s the point of sitting here each day?

Time goes by - Boredom...Decay.

No one now thinks of me, nobody cares.

I might as well be dead or not even born.

The day I die, leave this hole,

will be my liberation away from it all.

WE’RE WALKING A TIGHTROPE

We’re walking a tightrope, between fact and fiction.

We’re walking that long thin line, living an illusion.

But things get so confused, so complicated.

Hiding what we feel, in public places.

Never admitting, that things will never be.

Dreaming of tomorrow is such a fantasy.

But where are you going to run to?

Where are you going to hide?

Who are you going to trust?

When you’re out there?

Who are you going to speak with?

Who are you going to tell?

Who are you going turn to?

When you’re out there?

But it’s just like a circus trick, never looking down.

Don’t look up, don’t look back, keep on going your own sweet way.

I’m here if you need me, maybe one day.

The circus may move, but the acts remain the same.

But where are you going to run to?

Where are you going to hide?

Who will you trust?

When you’re out there?

Who will you speak with?

Who will you tell?

Who will you turn to?

When you’re out there?

TIMES CHANGE, MEMORIES REMAIN

I was seven, you were eight, sitting there upon the gate.

Watching all the trains go by, wondering what true love was like.

But we soon left school and went our separate ways.

You to college and me to the factory.

Wondering if we would meet again.

Would we be faithful?

Would we cheat?

Oh, I want to see you again.

Sitting on that old farm gate.

Playing all those school yard games.

Wondering what the future would bring.

We now haven’t seen each other for so many years.

I’ve heard you’ve got married and got everything you need.

The man you’ve married is a millionaire.

He’s helping you achieve your aim.

The world’s your oyster and every day is just a crazy game.

I see you on the TV screen and in the magazines.

You’re big in the music business, it was always one of your dreams.

You’ve had a hit or two and the public they are flocking to you.

Oh, I want to see you again.

Sitting on that old farm gate.

Playing all those school yard games.

Wondering what the future would bring.

When I heard you on the radio or saw you on the screen.

You didn’t seem like the girl I knew, the girl with all those dreams.

Your hits have now faded away, it looks like the bubble has burst.

Your fans are long gone now, gone to someone else.

I’ve just read in my daily paper, your death by pills in a seedy hotel,

somewhere away from it all, on your own, nobody with you.

You only had a very short life, but one which made its mark.

I will never forget our days, sitting on that old farm gate.

WAR BECOMES A HABIT

For centuries we have all been fighting wars.

Taking up arms and going off to fight.

Fight because we’re told to or because we think it’s right.

Taking up arms to fight the good fight.

War becomes a habit – If you let it.

So we all go out and kill all our foes.

We gun them down and pick over the bones.

We leave them for dead rolling about in pain.

And sing Christmas Carols when it’s over.

War became a habit – And we let it.

JUST AN ORDINARY WOMAN

She goes by the name of sexy Sue,

but in the morning she’s just like you.

But at night she has to walk the streets,

just to make those ends meet.

She’s a street girl.

Standing on the corner.

Waiting for a punter.

Waiting for some money.

To feed her kids.

She goes by the name of sexy Sam,

but she’s always had problems with her men.

Her father used to beat her up at night,

and the man she married left her out of sight.

She’s a street girl.

Standing on the corner.

Waiting for a punter.

Waiting for some money.

To feed her kids.

She goes by the name of delicious Denise,

but walking the street is no novelty.

Hounded by police in the dead of night,

hassled by drunks, oh what a life!

She’s a street girl.

Just an ordinary woman.

Making ends meet, in this land of unemployment.

She’s a street girl.

Doing the best for her children.

Not giving up under pressure.

Just trying to live.

DOWN SOUTH

You say you’re gonna run away,

to escape this industrial decay.

But where you gonna run to?

Is the south that attractive to you?

With unemployment and nowhere to live?

You say there’s nothing for you at home.

So get on your bike and wander alone.

To the bright lights and dirty streets.

But find somewhere to live.

It’s not all what it seems on the TV screens.

You wander all over town.

Just looking for somewhere to lay your head down.

Without a place to live, how can you get a job?

It’s a vicious circle in a lonely town called London.

So you say you’re gonna go down south.

That’s up to you but think what it’s about.

It’s not all it seems to be, there’s homelessness and poverty,

and the streets there aren’t paved with gold.

You say you’re gonna run away.

That’s up to you but is that the way?

It’s not all it seems to be, there’s homelessness and poverty,

and the streets there aren’t paved with gold.

You say you’re gonna run away.

That’s up to you but think what it’s about?

Page Last Updated - 20/05/2010