comic
Tamsulosin* the Great**
an encouragement to older gentlemen
Hail, Tamsulosin!
for restoring my pride,
the capacity of an ocean
streaming on an ebb tide.
No more dammed-up source,
emasculation and strain –
back roars the force
in spate, a storm drain.
Dribbles, drips and droughts,
stoppages abhorrent,
are swept aside
in flash-flood torrents.
Clenched sphincter desperation,
satnav searching loos,
are all things of the past –
I can do it when I choose.
Now we’re all hanging looser,
freed from prostate stigma
and – an unexpected booster –
we’re even looking bigger.
*a commonly-prescribed prostate drug
**Tamburlaine the Great is a play by Christopher Marlowe
...which has nothing whatsoever to do with it.
Mill race at Island House, Fordham
Let’s Dance
I was born into this body, I can twist and shout
I’m happy being me - only one doubt:
I’m sure
There’s no door
I came in by the entrance but there’s no way out.
I’m stuck inside this body, it takes its course
Has a mind of its own, obeys its own laws
Can’t you see?
You set me free
You can have mine if I can have yours.
When we get together, I feel real emotion
Like flying in space or swimming in the ocean
Let’s dance
More than once
I only come to rest when we’re both in motion.
I’m fighting with my body, it pulls me in two
I want to be alone with it but that won’t do
We meet
Real neat
The thing about my body is, it leads me to you.
I’m lost inside my body, but baby, you
Are my magnetic north, its true
No doubt
I’m going south
Whichever way I turn, my needle points to you.
When we get together, I get a special feeling
Lying or standing, crawling or kneeling
Let’s dance
More than once
When we’re on the floor, my head goes through the ceiling.
When we are together, the waves start crashing
I’m out of my depth in all this passion
Let’s dance
More than once
It’s the oldest occupation and the latest fashion.
From Unholy Verses, Sacred Songs
Published in an untitled student zine by artist and designer
Bevin Richardson
Ballad Of The Three Moustachiers
From Unholy Verses, Sacred Songs
Also published in A Pride of Lines zine by Coin-Operated Press
Maximilian Marlborough Mouche
Was lanky, languid, laid-back and louche.
When he fell in love with long-haired Loretta
He assumed he could simply go get her.
Melvin Muckle MacLaverty Mash
Was Maxi’s mate but it seemed they must clash
When he too developed a crush
On lovely Loretta Lispberry Lush.
Max was tall, Melvin strong, neither best
Whenever they wrestled, boxed, bumped chests;
Each was confident, thought himself better,
Both fancied their chances with luscious Loretta.
How could she choose between the two boys?
Loretta invented an original ploy:
‘I like males masculine, manly and rough,’
She said, ‘On your cheeks I see only fluff.
I will choose the one, though it may seem harsh,
Who quickest can grow the best moustache.
Whoever can show me the finest face-furniture
May join me in love’s great adventure.
We’ll meet again soon back at this place
To assess the foliage on your face.’
So Max stopped shaving his upper lip,
Quite soon the dark fuzz there had to be clipped;
It curled and twirled, so well reared
It lapped at the lobes of each of his ears.
He buffed it and fluffed it, worked in pomade –
Not any old stuff, but organic, homemade.
Meanwhile, as a gardener nurtures a rose,
Melvin tended the tendrils under his nose;
His bristles billowed, burgeoned in piles,
Springing and sprouting - a bush grown wild.
He sought role-models, to help him look dapper:
Cary Grant, Freddie Mercury, Sergeant Pepper.
He tried the surreal look: Salvador Dali
And then the chirpy: Chaplin, Charlie.
Max pursued a different policy,
Reading politics, history, philosophy:
Stalin, Pinochet, Gaddafi, dictators,
Kaiser Wilhelm, Lord Kitchener, sergeant majors;
Max imitated their alpha-male follicles
Though their foreign policies seemed unethical.
He feared Loretta might think him insane
When he looked in the mirror and saw Saddam Hussain.
Then, focussing on his finest feature,
Max found his ubermoustache: Friedrich Neitzsche.
Whiskers grow slowly, time quickly passes;
Soon they meet up to compare moustaches,
Maxi’s sophisticated and groomed
Melvin’s bushy as a couple of brooms.
Great their surprise when Loretta arrives,
A cool young woman clasped to her side,
Sultry and stylish as Marlene or Garbo,
On her lip a line, fine as Frida Kahlo.
Says Loretta, ‘Meet my love, Magdalen,
With her I know I need never be sad again.
I’m sure you agree we’re a handsome pair,
Madge wins the contest for best facial hair.’
In delight the assembled crowd of friends whoop;
In shock, Maximilian’s pride and joy droops.
‘Oh well, never mind,’ he shrugs, turning to Melv,
Its you I’ve fancied, ever since we were twelve.
What about it old boy, will you have me?’
He holds out a ring, goes down on one knee.
‘Oh Maxi, my fluffy one, I never knew,’
Says Melvin, ‘I always only wanted you.’
Maxi’s limp handlebars perk up and rise
While Melvin’s tache trembles, tears in his eyes.
Then Loretta and Madge, Melvin and Maxi,
Two happy couples, climb into taxis;
No better matches you’ll ever find,
They drive off arm in arm, moustaches entwined,
Remaining together, faithful and brave,
Through rough and smooth, shaggy and shaved,
Living the lesson of lovely Loretta:
Life may be hairy but it does get better.