Marc Carver

Poundland 2

by Marc Carver

I looked at all the one pound-cds in Poundland.

I recognized all the names

from bands

part famous

maybe ten years or so ago.

I could not help but think

what would they think about their music

being sold in Poundland for a sum of one pound.

When I went to the till

with my one-pound toothbrush,

the till lady asked me if I wanted a bag.

“No, you are okay, love,” I said.

She put my toothbrush in a bag anyway

as if she was giving me a present,

then smiled and said.

“There you go, babe.”

And that smile just got bigger and bigger

until I could of fallen right into it.

Still Life

by Marc Carver

As i leant over another painting

sweat started to drip over the empty canvas

and of course my mind started to think about

liquids that could go into making paintings.

Surely they would not do that

the greats like Picasso

or later i thought about Dali

but of course.

I know that is exactly what they would have done.

I can say there is real sweat gone into making my paintings

and they could say there is real life in theirs.

And it is only me

that knows what they mean.

Rare Days

by Marc Carver

Some days

the wind is a little too cold

Some days you don't want to get out of bed.

And some days you want the sun

to shine on your face and burn it

until you fall asleep

and your nose is all red and scratchy and the skin falls off it.

And some days you want to put your arms around a woman

and squeeze her until you are one.

No space between you.

And some days you want to smile at strangers until they

wonder who you are.

I want on some days to do the first thing

that comes into my head all day long.

Watch birds take off

and flowers smile with light.

Yea, just on some days

it is great to be alive.

Teardrop

by Marc Carver

I lay in between a woman’s legs

My head rests gently on her pregnant stomach.

I kiss her stomach

and listen

For new life.

Her breasts fall over the side of her body

Like landslides that will never reach the ground.

I do not know who she is

Even though I have seen her many times

I have never seen her smile

And have no connection to her

Apart from this moment

I can’t tell if she wants this

Or me

But here I am

Listening for life.

Sand

by Marc Carver

Torrents of sand

Rain down filling that

Hourglass of naked beauty

Hips rounded

Tight center and filled breasts.

Give into filled time

Let it slip through your fingers and spread

Across an even floor.

Hold hands watching

Praying for more time

To find the truth of what you are

Waterloo Sunset

by Marc Carver

On the bridge

I see all the homeless man's possessions

His begging bowl

and his guitar with rope for strings.

The only thing missing is him.

I did not think to myself

oh he is visiting friends

or has gone for lunch.

I thought instead

he has thrown himself

over the bridge

and no one will ever know

but as i walk down the bridge

I see him shuffling back along the bridge

back to his possessions.

He is alive

and I feel happy.

You Beauty

by Marc Carver

I listen to Mozart

and smile.

How can anybody be so good

The sun is out

and i have told a woman how beautiful

she looked

and i intend to tell another two the same.

Still Mozart plays and still i smile

The sun is out.

Running on Empty

by Marc Carver

How i would hate to die

on a train

going to a place with money in my pockets

undrunk money

how i would hate to die as well

on top of a woman

without finishing

just take me God

when my pockets are empty

and my balls too.

Van Gogh

by Marc Carver

She told me

it was always the clouds

they all had trouble painting the clouds

I went and looked at the Van Gogh in the national

and she was right

even he couldn't do it

Premier

by Marc Carver

You can't beat the first one of the day.

The first poem

the first beer.

The first smile you get from a woman.

The first kiss.

The first coffee

the first bit of food.

The first glimpse of the sun

the first drops of rain.

Your first time and

not knowing when

the last time will be.

So do it all today

you just never know

when the first could become

the last

TOO GOOD FOR A TITLE

by Marc Carver

As I walked though the town center,

coffee in one hand

coat the other

my dick started to itch

for a second

I thought about asking

one of the passing ladies to scratch it for me.

God knows what they would of said

if I had

Always Baby

by Marc Carver

Somehow I thought

I would of ended up like Neruda by now

on a Greek island beach

with two hot-blooded

Spanish women half my age

with all the world knowing what a great poet I am.

Well

I would be happy to settle for the women.

EVERYTIME.

Hopper

by Marc Carver

I look through the window of the woman next door as I pass

her light is on

and she is turned away from me.

There is an honesty in a woman

who does not know she is being seen.

She ties her hair at the back

like a Hopper painting without the colors.

I pass the picture

and she never knows I was there.

Edith

by Marc Carver

Leave no canvas unpainted,

no poem unfinished,

no woman unloved,

no bottle undrunk,

leave no song unsung,

leave no one

in any doubt

of who you really are.

Today

by Marc Carver

Today

I don't write at all

I only whisper in the wind.

let life

take them where they need to go. Goodbye words

ALTAR BOY

by Marc Carver

I smell the wood burning outside

it reminds me of the incense in the church

the ball moving slowly through the air

the trail of the smoke

as it passed through the church from front to back

always, away from the altar

and me a boy

as innocent as I thought I was.

As innocent as a pope's name

pulling the white cloth over my shoulders

and bowing every time I passed the altar,

of that church

that sat on the hill

and looked out over the bay

at everything.

I had seen nothing of the world then

and perhaps it should have stayed that way.

NEVER ENOUGH

by Marc Carver

I had sex yesterday.

I never seem to get enough

not what I would like

or need.

or the other way around.

I'm not sure.

In fact I am lucky to get any.

Then I think of the famous poet librarian

when asked if he had any regrets in life

he said

he wished he had had more sex.

Me and you too my friend.

but I am not sure

I could ever tell you what enough is.

WHAT'S THE RUSH?

By Marc Carver

The snail crosses the pavement

like it is some vast plain or ocean

he sees shipwrecks of his kin trampled into dust as he passes

but still he pushes on

he must reach the promised land

he will be safe there

all that will be left is his trail

as straight as an arrow

but not quite as fast.

OUT THERE

By Marc Carver

Outside the heaviest rain I have ever seen

thumps the earth.

I count the distance between the thunder and the lightning

I get an urge to go out in it

cleanse my soul

help my feeling of disgust.

I hold back, put the football on, then turn the cable off

so that all that is left is the carrier signal that looks like tiny creatures moving about.

They look a bit like each other, the rain in the window and the signal they say is the only thing out there in space

but I don't believe them.

CRAZY CRAZY

by Marc Carver

There are a pair of pants on top of the small roof next to my toilet.
I know because I threw them there.
Sometimes people walk by
Talking about them
Like there were some tourist attraction.

Some people have flags of their country flying from their roofs.
I have a flag of underpants from the country of crazy crazy
And it is the only country for me.

LOVE

by Marc Carver

As I sleep, touch your fingertips along my fingers and arms

like a pianist for whom the music has stopped.

Or even the air between and slight

a gentle wave upon the quiet sea.

Rest your cupped hand upon my bent head

feel the pulses of love come from inside

like a lighthouse searching the sea

and feel how much I want to love you

you and the whole world.

Let me love you if only just for a bit.

THE WORST POET IN THE WORLD

by Marc Carver

Have you heard about the worst poet in the world
He tells people to F off on stage.
Goes to the mic drunk.
Makes fun of people.
turns up late or not at all.
if you haven't seen him
I have to confess.
He
Is
Me.

BLIND MAN'S BLUFF

by Marc Carver

I saw a woman with a blind dog

waiting to get on the tube.

As I passed her I winked at her.

She did not wink back but she saw me.

Maybe it was the dog who was blind

or maybe she hoped she was.

DANGEROUS

by Marc Carver

There is something so masochistic in me that it never leaves me so determined am I that I must leave I am sure of it I am surprised I haven't done it already not that I could throw myself off a bridge I don't have the courage But if I don't care what still holds me back in life some invisible force a shield that keeps people safe from me am I really that dangerous maybe I am

THE ARCHITECT

by Marc Carver

There is no feeling

like the feeling you get when you wake up at four in the morning

and know you are the only one alive

the deadness

the stillness

you could almost be dead yourself and not know it.

You start to think with a clarity that has alluded you your whole life

no doubts

nothing to hold you back

and suddenly you want to build

brick after brick those words that speak out from the darkness

tell stories that no one will ever hear

but they shout out of the silence like alarm bells warn the sailors of the rocks that lurk underneath.

So you piece them together

and you know you are making something you don't know or need to know what it is you only find out when you finish

then you can stand back and see what it is

as if you knew before you started

then you look and know and see what it is

and for once you know what it is

CORONA

by Marc Carver

Come on Corona come and get me,

I lick toilet seats, stand next to coughing people on the tube

but still you can't get me.

You are not as tough as you think you are.

What have I got to do

look I am not hiding

I am not in self-isolation

I swim in that big pool with all the dirty people I am like Jesus mixing with the lepers and the sick.

Still nothing still no sign.

They won't let me into the old people's homes surely they have it there.

I go on planes and refuse the lockdown

people tell me all the time the news the media.

Pandemic, pandemic that shout through the tubes of glass and through the laptops.

The shopping centers are empty only me there looking for the zombies the infectious but still there is no one.

So if you have any guts Corona

come on come and find me and we will fight it out.

PANDEMIC

by Marc Carver

Every day the clock ticks but not fast enough

I think of the perfect V

and the RSM saying if there was hair on the crack of dawn he would fuck it.#

All these memories all wrapped up as one and stuck into a mind.

A history

A life

and on it goes even through a pandemic and flights being shut down

Will it all come to an end, no not Tom Hanks too.

Somedays I think nothing can kill me.

Even now I have to write

nothing can stop that

good, bad, it doesn't really matter.

Like Picasso said as he painted on that glass while the director told him how long he wanted and smoked his pipe

I can go on all night he said

Not bad for a man with no shirt on going into his seventies.

That is what people don't understand.

In life

you have to do it

or it kills you.

THE SECRET

by Marc Carver

I took it to the garden to bury it.

Down and down I dug until I hit another one.

This one was buried deep but only because I knew that I could not open it

It had been there since the beginning of time

my time anyway.

It was impossible to open I knew that.

But this one had to go very deep

now it had come to the surface again.

You see I had almost forgot about it but it had been there always just under the surface.

So I dug and I dug until I got tired and threw it in and covered it.

The next day I was refreshed from my sleep I looked out into the garden and there it was

proud as punch for everybody to see.

A NICE POEM FOR A CHANGE

by Marc Carver

The sea air passes through my fingers as I lift my hands into the air

the waves orchestrate the wind

and I push them apart

there is nothing but this moment to conquer

no future

no past

nothing.

All desires are taken away by the sea and the air.

THE LOVER

by Marc Carver

I hacked off my massive beard

it took a while.

The next day we went to the restaurant in the hotel.

None of the waitresses recognized me and wondered who was sitting with my wife.

Then one of the waiters recognized me and came over.

"What happened to the beard?" he said.

"Oh, no, I am the lover; the husband had to go home, but don't tell anybody."

He laughed as he cleared away a few plates.

Métier

by Marc Carver

I stroke the keys

wait for music to come

but I am no musician

I can't play a damn thing.

Told a woman today that I write poetry that is my job

she asked me what about.

I told her life

she said she knew I would say that.

About what life puts in front of me,

I don't know why I told her I write poetry

perhaps because I needed to tell her so I can sit here

and stroke these keys.

Who knows what makes a man,

ORDINARY LOVE

By Marc Carver

I went up to the boy and got a ticket for the film.

He told me the name of the film

and I said what other love is there.

Unrequainted he said

yea I can't spell it but I sure have had plenty of it

but you know every now and then you have to chance your arm

the women asked me what I wanted I said coffee

she told me she would make it with love

I said only if it is with requainted love.

MARRIAGE

By Marc Carver

I told her that was what marriage is

watching you screw up your face

like a wild animal while you put your bra on or your deodorant.

Things that other people didn't know but I had seen you do it a thousand times or more and each time it still fascinated me.

I can steal these things from your life so I don't have to live my own

I only wish I had more people to steal from

EVERYBODY NEEDS A FRIEND

by Marc Carver

Part one

I walked into the closing-down ladies’ shop not sure why

went to the back and saw a row of mannequins.

I had been after one for a while

didn't buy it straight away though

but knew I would take it home

paint her then I would think about driving around with her in my car see if anybody would notice even thought about getting some roller skates for her

and walking around with her.

"Hi, have you met my friend?" Yea I could have some real fun with people with that after all I have to get something from them and besides I get lonely it’s good to have someone to talk to even if they don't talk back.

Part two

I went into the shop and gave them the money

the young woman asked me if I wanted a receipt and I said I should be okay.

She pulled it into three parts and said I can come back for a bit later if I wanted.

I said I should be okay so off I went through the shopping mall with the crutch through one hand and the other around the tits with the base.

I got some strange looks especially from some old women.

Then I wished I got a receipt they may all think I am stealing her.

I couldn't help but think if anybody asks me I can say it is the wife she has gone to pieces.

The arm fell off a couple of times and she started to get heavy so I had to put her down a few times as all the kids started to come out of the college then this bloke came up behind me.

"Nice bit of skirt," he said.

"It is the wife she is going to pieces," I said.

I got her to the car exhausted and she fell in the back.

"Get up you silly bitch." I said.

Eventually I got her home but as I got her out of there she started to fall to pieces in the street.

"Come on, pull yourself together." I got her inside before any of the neighbors could see; now she points east in the front room. I hope the wife doesn't get jealous.

A DAY

by Marc Carver

I walk along the path by the river

Two small girls on bikes come up to me.

I hear them say

"They were on the wrong path,"

"I have been on the wrong path my whole life," I say.

But they don't hear me.

I carry on walking down that path.

I walk through the field

blackbirds everywhere.

Looking for something in the grass.

But the weather is hot

all the worms hiding and waiting.

As I get closer I push my arms out from me

to form a cross and up they all go into the air.

Springing up then landing again.

Others squawk he is still coming.

Again I do the same thing and the same thing happens.

People look at me so I stop

and so do the birds and everything goes back to normal as I leave.

I go to the park

the sun shines in the pond

the swans look at me suspiciously

people are happy

and it almost makes me cry how beautiful it all is

I sometimes think life is playing with me

like a zookeeper giving a tiger a hamster every half an hour.

It gives me just enough to keep going.

Like the cat who plays with the mouse.

They both know he will die

but it is about how much pain he will suffer before he does.

IDIOTKA

by Marc Carver

I started to read the idiot

I related to Myshkin straight away

people used to call me a idiot all the time

I would say things perhaps that others would not

I wanted to love everyone and be loved by everyone

but in the end I realized they could not trust it

so they just called me a fool

Carver is an old man that occasionally manages to knock out a good poem, or two.

In Association with Fossil Publications