You never should have fallen in love, Never touched those lips with your trembling mouth Nor mingled your breath with a breath not your own, Until, breathless, you were brought down by desire.
Blinded by love, Your eyes burnt out By that implacable face staring at you, Pulling you down With its deadly understanding Of your sick passion. And you, refusing to see it mocked you.
There was always some confection of delight Waiting to engage you. Some new trick to disarm and enchant you. A decorative something To hold on to. To plan. To cling to. As well put a snowflake on hot iron For nothing could save you.
Lovers are lost When one lover no longer loves, And the other lives on yesterday’s passion.
Everywhere were bluebells Chiming their soft blue chimes Into the sunny sweep of dandelions Burning the hedgerows gold. We were lost in this paradise Of quiet roads and shimmering yellow fields, Until the rough green grass Of a set-aside meadow, swept with daisies, Took us into a bright masquerade Of an older England than any We had thought to see that day.
Where Lancelot and Guinevere walked again, Where Arthur’s sword once more pierced the ground, Where everywhere the eye found Circlets of flowers resting on willing heads, And Guinevere flirted And Lancelot laughed And coconut shells clapped in the sound Of the hooves of invisible horses, Forcing the pagan priest to swing A bracelet of flowers from his fag brown fingers, Waiting to join two thistle down merry-makers together, To live in misery or joy for ever and ever.
And Joker roamed the players on their stage, Grinning at his eternal role Of bringing death and wicked trouble To anyone still alive and kicking, To anyone unaware of Joker stalking This blithe and sunny day, Skin green as a little nut tree Bearing thorns sharp as daggers and sweet nuts With hard shells to crack teeth and heads, Backs and faces, turn bright eyes into pools of sorrow.