Conjoined at the hip by the hip by
lunatic charges towards the outer
expression of inner convulsions
but where it matters silence and cowardice
and indifference to the possibilities who knows
where this might have led my friend if we had
chosen to have spoken frankly
I speak for myself of course because I
know and you with one hint may
have guessed it all breathtakingly
easily stupid stupid me with it all
all the articulation and nothing to say
to you in my dark bbc voice culled
from my grandfather whose psychotic rush
to the music flared until all was lost to
my father and then to me except this
voice that could announce the war
or the stuffy wedding of two
society people divorce
when it comes and usually
death and the mourning of the nation
this voice can do all that and stir
my grandmother to tears or
flag waving but cannot sing
rock and roll to cure this
foolish heart my heart
my voice shakes with my hands
and I rasp until there is no flesh
on these chords

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