LOVERS IN THE GREEN FERNS

" LOVERS IN THE GREEN FERNS "     TIM WILLIAMS FEB. 14TH 2014

THE BLACK PYRAMIDS OF THE NIMBLE WITTED TOWN
HAVE A STRONG SUIT, A TENDER YEARNING, A TANG
OF REMORSE THAT FILLS THE SPITTLED LUNG TONIGHT
CLOSED MIND VISIONS TEND TO HANG IN THE AIR
LIKE A BOY'S DREAM OF DELICIOUS SUMMERS OF CHILDHOOD,
PONDERING VIOLENT TUMBLES AND A BAG OF HOT CHIPS

WHEN I WAS A COTTED BABY BORN INTO THE WELSH VALLEYS
WITH GRIPE WATER FLAVOURED WITH ACTIVISTS PAMPHLETS
SURROUNDED WITH DIRTY, FILTHY BRUTALLY DANGEROUS INDUSTRIES
A FATHER BATTERED BY RUFFIAN'S BROKEN TRUNCHEONS
SPLITTING HEADS LIKE  COSSACK SWORDS
FISTS AND VOICES RAISED AROUND MY CRADLE

AS BROTHERS STOOD STARING OVER THE EDGE OF VIOLENCE
DARING EACH OTHER TO STAMP HOBNAILED 
ONTO THE ENTRAILS OF THE MINE'S MASTER
BUT TRIPPING OVER LOVERS IN THE GREEN FERNS,
WHILE CHASING THE IMPERIALIST RUNNING DOG
AND SNATCHING THE RED RUSSIAN MONEY FOR OLD SOUP

CHILDREN SHOUTING " RICE PUDDING IN THE VESTRY "
AND RACING LIKE MOUNTAIN HARES SPOON ARMED
TO DEVOUR THE SYNTHETIC RUBBER, NON-SUGARED GRUEL
FROM " THE SOLIDARITY FOREVER "  SOUP KITCHEN
CALLING A TRUCE ON OUR DIGESTIVE TRACTS
WITH A DIET THAT BORE NO DIFFERENCE TO A PRISON

GROWN MEN SAT, TALKED, SHOUTED, AND SPAT
GAMBLING WITH BUTTONS AND PINS, UNTIL
THE 1930'S LOCK-OUT WAS OVER AND CORPSED
THE FAIRGROUND RIDE OF LIFE JERKED STUBBORNLY 
INTO A GREASED RE-BIRTH AND LIFE ITSELF
BOILED THE GOODNESS OUT OF OUR BONES