Tag Archives: alcohol

Taylor on Burton


 

He came;
swaggering incendiary,
Celtic virility dripping
from his rim,
gravelly timbre
raking each glassy breath.
 

Vows lost
amid wedded shards,
freefall shapes blown
of our own viscous chaos,
twisted stem highballs
splintering
amid unstable natron flux.
 

We poured ourselves
into a decade, oblivious,
lolled
in hot, sticky carnality,
sluiced scotch
on cut-glass rocks
scooped from cold crystal
to tranquilise engorged
fuck-heat fingers.
 

Scorched,
fire-cut and ruined,
we retreated
to misshapen solid
states, mixing virulent
cracked lacquer cock tales
of medicated misery
and miscast lovers
 

until blistered and bloated,
clasped in the cold grip
of the parison,
he bled into the Céligny night,
 

leaving me to languish,
crushed,
ribboned red,
marbling centuries of loss
on blue-glaze Portland,
clutching his script
in death-wax hands.
 
 

Advertisements

1 Comment

Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

Burton on Taylor


 

She came;
violet eyes brazing,
hair liquid black,
after-birthed
from Morfa’s glutted seam.
 

She blessed and burnt
my summer daze,
a crucible of white heat,
her gleaming teeth
cursed, dispersed
the icy hellions
of my bleak winters.
 

We raged with it,
the horn-ridden beast,
hollered as we let it claw
our clothes, rip ecstasy
from our throats, gouge
our eyes with the taloned
beauty of idolised youth.
 

Ten years we burned
between the sun and its
mutant reflection,
amid lust
and sallow loathing,
quaffing piss-amber
liquor between
fighting and fucking
 

until molten and wet,
she snaked from my
volcanic mouth,
left me spent and spewing,
to roam the sodden streets;
livid, raw, weeping whisky
into soot-filled gutters,
scuttling the gulf
of snot-drowned grief,
 

an ashen shadow of a man
bearing the red welt
of a life half-lived,
without her.
 
 
 
 
 

~ Bit of a departure for me. I’m fascinated by the relationship between Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. They had a passionate, tempestuous marriage between 1964 and 1974, remarrying 16 months after their divorce, the second marriage lasted less than a year. He likened their marriage to rubbing two sticks of dynamite together.
 

Burton died of a brain haemorrhage in August 1984. He was buried in a red suit, a tribute to his Welsh roots, and with a copy of Dylan Thomas’s poems, many of which he had recorded to great acclaim. Burton wrote Taylor countless love letters over the years, even when they were apart. His last was delivered to her home three days after his death. She died 27 years later in March 2011 and was buried with the letter.
 

I’ve tried to write this from Burton’s point of view after they divorced in 1974. You kinda have to imagine his deep, rich Welsh voice to get the full effect. If you don’t know what he sounded like check out the link – hands down the best reading of Thomas’ Do Not Go Gentle.
 

Richard Burton reads Dylan Thomas

 

2 Comments

Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

Carnal Alter

As hormones rage our senses re-adjust,
and heighten double-baggers’ fuck appeal;
this fumbling mess that masquerades as lust

 

can leave us all with flashbacks of disgust.
Cheap beer-shaped goggles cloud, our judgment keels,
as hormones rage our senses re-adjust;

 

above waist action – useless, it’s the thrust
that gets us nought to sixty but reveals
this fumbling mess that masquerades as lust.

 

Come morning light, on brunettes we’re not fussed
and yet by night, our preferences concealed;
as hormones rage our senses re-adjust,

 

coherent thought spontaneously combusts.
As sharp grey matter puddles and congeals
this fumbling mess that masquerades as lust

 

just leaves our standards flailing in the dust.
Before the carnal altar we all kneel,
as hormones rage our senses re-adjust
this fumbling mess that masquerades as lust.

13 Comments

Filed under Villanelle