Salacious camp
I saw that Hughie Ball gigging – the Saltdean Coliseum
So just give him a little smile, the next time you see him,
He had an audience of thousands, but there’s little else to know
Call it science fiction or just another late, late sex show?
For I was lied to by Nogod and all his anarchist’s friends
The police, the politicians and fuck knows where it ends.
So they introduced me to abstraction – a prima ballerina
Sanctuary in poetry – now can life get any meaner?
Such burning ambition and dreams of the obscene
She’s a goddess indeed – she’s a carnal sex queen;
With a pastel purple mane flowing elegantly down her back
A body image called Lust and her eyes of jet black.
Like an occupational therapist or some profession as such
She sports a unique ability – to be completely out of touch;
And writes her biography for a blockbuster telly drama
Portray shock characters, in a mind blowing panorama.
So I wasn’t surprised at these things that I saw
Like drowning in champagne and we just bellowed for more,
But the magnums were poisoned – by the envoys of terror
So we all chocked on my bon gout, such an inevitable error?
She feed my sterile emotions, it’s all too complex
I still danced like a fool – to the smell of her sex;
Yet before one died, just through of lack of taste
I manufactured my excuses and ran away in haste.
