Friday, January 30, 2015

What a Man.


What a Man.
by james bezerra

Fifty years it’s been
since under the shadow of Big Ben
passed the body of the world’s
best ever alcoholic.

Hugely complicated legacy left
by fat little man from Marlborough.
Never imperious, always imperial,
colonial, racist, and drunk.

But yet,
whatta man, whatta man,
what a mighty good man,
a god sent original.

Admiralty, Gallipoli, depression, Ploegsteert Wood.
The Irish, the Kurdish, that pesky teetotaler Gandhi.
Bolsheviks, Fascists, liberals, Zionists, and
that Charlie Chaplin-looking motherfucker from Austria.

Fight them on the beaches. Fight them on the sea.
Nothing to offer but blood
and toil and tears and sweat.
A dangerously unique moment in history.

Now fifty years its been
since MV Havengore bore
the lead lined casket away.
Whatta man.

Thames dock workers bowed
crane jibs. The Queen had a drink.
A god sent original;
what a man.

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