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Something else heart warming

On 11 Nov 2009 at 4:43pm Smiler wrote:
Newick Bonfire (50th Anniversary of D Day, 1995)

the darkness of no light like a ballroom dome
peppered with others infinitely more distant
letting in what must suffice in the absence of a torch to find our way

above, the Companion was a sharp-pointed sliver of silver
lit by the One and shining low above the end of seeing
where the woodgiants stood a kind of useless fence

craning my neck and looking up I made out the familiar dot to dot patterns
the long cloud of our skyhome, like the vapourtrail
of some massive passing ship, extruding stars

and from this darkness of no light we came from where we parked
out of the cold mystery of the night, into a multitude
or several multitudes, lining the roads the procession would take
eager to find our places individually amongst them

and here were lit at last by the drinkhouse blaze
and the houses around the green whose windows would soon
leap with flames as if safely on fire, mirroring the burning Guy
ignored by the dark figures that leaned elbows at their openings
as they watched with us the ghost-time walkpast
of the theatrically dressed spectres passing in a fiery line

as real as we were, some even that I recognised
yet determedly of another time, drawn in spirit
from around the globe and from various centuries
to this Sussex village and this Halloween night

Aztecs, Sioux Indians, New World Infantry with curved deathslash steel
a band of windpipers in skirts, drumbangers and silvery xylophone taps
scarlet-tunicked warleader alongside RAF fighterpilot next to
blackcoated bogeywoman with red batteryoperated eyes

all luridly lit by the flaming tardips carried at a lean
so you could feel the heat exfoliate your skin as they passed

a church Highup led the way in his chesspiece topper
in his heavily brocaded robes followed by a flaming cross

touch of the Ku Kluk Clans about the torches dancing together
seen from a distance as they massed at the top of the street
but something innocent and very English about the dressing up
the mixing of many histories

it was the ghost-time or nearly so, the notime between old and new
marked at its beginning and end with music and fire
bonepiles of wood, storms of flame, before the calm of summerend

confused by decree, deliberately, with this redherring of the muchfeted, ill-fated
would be floorboardripper, kegroller and conically-hatted one
the fairy on top of the firetree, Master Guido Fawkes himself
a bit player here at this still-recognisably pagan gathering
of the Bonfire Societies at Newick

merely a bitplayer, as is the longdead swatikad, dictatorguy
with rockets in his pockets, raising his stiff arm to the heavens
at the wheel of a model of Michael Schumackers blue Benetton racingcar
about to go up in a stream of screaming lightlines
in the first of the bursts of coloured smoke and brief bouquets they raised
in sulphorous celebration, painting the red October skies anew

you didnt want it to end, wanted it to continue with dancing and insurrection
spreading rebellion northwards...
On 11 Nov 2009 at 6:15pm Sherlock wrote:
Life's too short I'm afraid.
On 11 Nov 2009 at 9:54pm DmT Duff wrote:
yuk, what was that pretentious and artless dirge, clean the vomit off the floor someone.

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Castle view 19:132
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You do know that it's 'its sage advisors'. No apostrophe required unless it's an abbreviation, or rather elision, for 'it is'.... more
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