Ahab Still Got Those Almighty Moonshine Blues
All dressed up and nowhere to go
Deep in the arctic, marooned on a floe
Clouded pyjamas, an empire of frost
My map is wet; I think I'm lost
Jack the Lad, but no sign of Jill
Who forsook all to swallow a pill
Clouded miasmas, in Whitechapel lanes
Watching the signal; searching for trains
Drunk as a Lord; yet cherchez la femme
Higher than Keats, and I don't give a damn
Clouded confessions ... a sheath-knife ... a gag
My mind's a-buzz, a Joplin rag
Knees of the bee, yet nowhere to kneel
When the coelacanth's skin's started to peel
Flying the flag, but there's no one in sight
Launching a flare in the dark of the night
In at the deep-end, floundering fast
Hoping the bottle will get there at last
To end all the torture and hurting and pain
Drink some Scotch; numb the brain
Wake in the morning, my head's on the floor
Getting the feeling I've been here before
Enough of the icebergs, the snow and the seals,
I'll drop into the sea and have haddock and eels
Tell my mama I'll be late home for tea
And that the Russian for trout's Etruscan for flea
And if she believes it we'll know she's a fool
A credulous airhead: unhip and uncool.
Tell her I'm sorry her plan went awry
But the fish don't abide when the fat starts to fry
My friends have all gone on the last train to town
Their number was up when the signals was down
Fall into bed with a moment to spare
Before the huge hake entwines in my hair;
I know I can save it, just give me a chance,
I'll send it to drink lemon tea with my aunts
Deep in the night I expire with a groan
Choked with the cable from your mobile 'phone
But when all said and done, there are worse ways to go
Than asking to suck when just wanting to blow
| Contributors: | TG, P, Roland, Grayman, The Agent Apsley, Katie, Rob, Sam, E Greejius, KT. |
| Poem finished: | 14th October 1999. |