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Tuesday 15 March 2011

Boozy On The London Underground

I raise this last can to the Internet,
to information overload and friends I've met.
It's fascinated me for hours on end
and everyone on Earth is now my friend.
It's opened doors to art, philosophy and verse,
to gourmet guzzling and the universe -
a lager-fuelled life of love and thought,
kebabs and Einstein with a single malt;
of wild and woolly notions set at nought.
And so: a toast to stuff like quantum, relativity
black holes, worm holes, the big bang and Complexity!
I drink to images of Jupiter and Mars;
and heady stuff about the birth and death of stars.

You're looking mystified...
I’ll demonstrate! This can... I said my last... I lied.
For now, we'll call it sun. Fantastic powers inside:
think tons  (a googol times a googolplex) of gelignite.
I shake it, pull the ring. Kapow! Goodnight!
Good Health! And as the flatulence and eructations die,
                     so I
                the macho-man
    (but call me gravity) implode the can.

               Across the aisle
             the white dwarfs pile,
 each one a star before it lost its equilibrium.

Mine, I lost in some space-time continuum
of throwing up, where were no drinking comrades of my own,
until I found myself sat here on this damned train, alone -
and wished that Einstein and his crew had done the same,
for then perhaps we’d have a different game.
            E = mc2? Small beer:
he might have changed his theories sitting here;
for space, as I perceive it now is this damned track
stretched out before and stretched out going back.

And speaking of small beer, it’s polarized
my mind, and I have been exceedingly surprised 
to learn the natures of this tunnel and the train,
how nothing matches any picture in my brain;
how tunnels rumble when trains come,
and how to greater rumbles from the gut, we do succumb;
how space is curved; how absolute time disappears
as seconds passing on my watch, on station clocks take years;
how space itself becomes surreal -
an endless tyre on time’s vast wheel -
and life an endless round, a never-ending meal.

The train winds on through spools of black spaghetti
to pools of twilight consciousness: another meal with Hetty;
those boulevards under snow, the drinks we had with Caroline -
those were not stations down a line,
not boarding or alighting points, just Alka Seltzers in a jar.
Stirred, spinning, spreading fizziness and influence far,
they coloured all… So, where did that dumb image spring from? Shit!
I haven’t understood this Circle Line a bit!
A response to Jingle Poetry's call for something on Food, Drink and Indulgence.


Bee said...

It may be fanciful of me, but it seems like this poem has the rhythm of an arc of drunkenness. The first paragraph is being drunk in the best way -- when everything is bright and fizzy, and it all still makes sense (in fact, one is deluded into thinking that there is MORE understanding than usual). And also the conviviality that comes with a good state of drunkenness: I love EVERYONE.

And then the downward spiral . . .

Isabel Doyle said...

lots of indulgence, I'd say
also, I'd better post my story 'Flying with Einstein' quickly or you'll think I've pinched your ideas.

good fun

Linda Bob Grifins Korbetis Hall said...

fabulous train ride,
your attitude plus your gratitude toward your friends are extraordinary.

superb poetry.
Thanks for playing.


Louise said...

Great ride, thanks Dave you did the circus proud!

Uma Anandane said...

Wonderfully written poem...(personally the letters could have been a little bigger to read your beautiful post ...)

Helen said...

Einstein and Dave ~~ now there's an image! Great ride!!!

angryparsnip said...

Sorry I gave up reading ,,, the type gave me a headache.
What I did read, the first stanza (?) was really great.

cheers, parsnip

Anonymous said...

and you really could write david! wow! here's my potluck.. http://fiveloaf.wordpress.com/2010/04/27/cheesecake/

Maggie said...

LOL. Just zoom in people.

This is a great poem to read.

Titus said...

Stunning Dave! Love the underlying 'only way to approach this stuff is drunk'/'only way this stuff makes sense is drunk' and some great touches in the verse itself - really assured rhyming and drunk-ramble-ness.

The Weaver of Grass said...

At first I thought you were telling us you were going to stop blogging Dave - don't do that I enjoy your blog so much.

Rose said...

This is such a fantastic poem! It just flows right out of you does it not Mr King. You are a brilliant writer - you just throw words around and everything just falls into place! Marvellous!

Crafty Green Poet said...

excellent, I do like the way this one flows in its drunken conversational style

Joann said...

I am fascinated by space, the universe and all those theories of more universes and dimensions. Like you, I believe, Einstein, quantum, and life, are best understood with beer, fuzzy thinking aside. Cheers, David, thanks for the fun ride.

Windsmoke. said...

That flowed through space and time on the track to a distant planet :-).

Dave King said...

What an interesting comment. Many thanks for it, Bee. Not fanciful at all. I can't pretend that I intended it, but I'm putting it down to one of those lucky accidents on which art thrives.

Sounds fascinating, but it doesn't sound like my idea!

Thanks yet again for a very supportive comment.

120 Socks
Good of you to say so. Thanks.

Welcome, good to have you visiting. Sorry about the letter size, I couldn't find a way to increase it that didn't upset the lineation. (You could always increase the text size in your browser.) Thanks for the comment. It is much appreciated.

Frightening thought!

Sorry about that. Comment as above. Will try not to repeat.

Thanks, will be along.

Great comment, too. Thanks.

Weaver of Grass
I do consider it every now and again, but something always drives me on! Thanks for the reassurance.

Many thanks for that, Rose - although I don't quite recognise the process!

Crafty Green Poet
Maybe I should specialise in that from now on - I might even imbibe a bit to help me on my way! Much thanks.

Good to have you visiting and commenting, Joan., thanks for that. Yes I relate to your suggestion!

Very suggestive...