Social Club

Frankie goes to Hollywood in a Newcastle bar
the bridal gowns have left the village shops
a theatre of birds copes over the social club roof
laying down easy white river red, the consensus
the sunset shakes the famous grouse
smirnoff swimming into stella with a dress
prayers said only to barmen and fish monks howling
licking lips on a life boat made of spring

The ease with which pain flies is a miracle
the class we have invites unintended growth, the ferns, the fields
clay streets coloured for the blind
the actionless spirit led to lay outside by the leash
the dogs come in, like old white radiators made of time
dim veins alive in melodic belches
the calls of the city the same as sirens
addressing old patrons with respect

With a pint for free from a stranger
no shark hides his teeth in the young tonight
but prefers the bev set down by a smile
no mould can free the obsolete from desolation
and in the perfect night we are frightened by the complete
stairs whimper like men running into the fields
cars stalemate in the parking lot attacking the day
I walk outside at one point

And forget all this:
the evening has made her wires from my smoke
her limbs the scout of my vixen laugh
a toppling of candid dreams made from december
the ethics of saying to light:
we’re heavier than ghosts on fire
we’re more relaxed than the last three trees waving!
glow does the sound of the naked road.

As each man and woman goes home
some hand in hand
some with armour made of clay
all built without time
the smocks of prayer lifted by morning
the morning gulls depending on the sea
where the first sun mates inside the salmon jump
so numerous, the fish cannot help, but bathe in song.


is Raoul Moat in a boat. His first words were ‘Newky Brown’. As well as being our most prolific writer, René also creates graphic art, paintings and screenplays.

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