THE GIGOLO’S LAMENT – a passing tilt at TS
to grow old, to wear my trousers rolled
WARNING: contains adult themes
(edited 17th December 2020)
Monday is the cruellest month,
The day when Judas flowered,
And I have neither youth nor strength
To keep the budding storms at bay;
They strike to quicken my decay,
Washing past paint and broken panes
To rot the bricks of my peeling face,
The façade of a blunted age.
Time has blistered me;
A shattered lamppost from a dulled past –
Disclaimed by those on whom I shone
My firm but gently passionate gaze –
Known now just in passing by their pets.
The women come with the night
And I wrap them in fondling shades.
The fertile seasons are now ghosts,
Soft bones wreathed in perfume and lace.
The limed streets of Paris, Berlin, Stuttgart,
The deceptions and the cunning corridors
The taut strung mannekinds subtly employed
To gain a creaking fuck, a handsome suck,
They now rise as my hunger grows
To mock my once proud shrunken hoe,
Its craving for breasts rich and slack,
For wayward bellies kept in trim
By cyclic fasts, the scalpel’s cut.
The women pass without a glance
A cold frost falling from their heels.
I will sit at the window
With the red light on
Cementing my face
And when the night freezes on my limbs
Go out into the street, walk straight,
Immaculate in my crotchless pants,
A bunch of keys hung on the left,
My tailored shirt of faded silk,
My brushed suede shoes
And sell my arse
Face crushed against a backyard wall,
keys tolling, “Oh, It’s time, it’s time.”
do you mean day? or is this poem based on another type of a seven month calender? also do you mean Mannequin?
yep it tells a story, and implies a lot here: A cold frost falling from their heels and here Disclaimed by those on whom I shone (family issues?). Perhaps the reason he then sells his arse
Hi Nic,
I meant month. The opening line is a parody of TS Eliot, and I built the rest on a cut down structure of The Waste Land.
The word “mannekinds” is a deliberate play on mankind + mannequin and suits the way the Gigolo plied his trade, irrespective of the sex or sexuality of his clients.
all the best
bhi
This is such a splendid metaphor:
Time has blistered me;
A shattered lamppost from a dulled past –
Disclaimed by those on whom I shone
My firm but gently passionate gaze –
Known now just in passing by their pets.
This is poetry that has everything. I particularly like the baroque feel to the Gigolo. The compromise at the finish is so sad… I feel sorry for the subject, but want to take a shower. Does that make sense?
Wonderful picture painting, and one of my favourites.
cheers,
Jim
Jim,
It does make sense. This poem was written on a cold wet evening in Madrid after my wife and i had driven home from a concert and our road passed through the red light district – and it is a very active scene – and my eye was caught by an older man, dressed just as I have described and he had the saddest look i have ever seen. That was the spark for the above.
thanks
bhi
And thanks for the nib.
Very good verse that does what verse should do, which is shine a light on the other and expose their humanity. T.S. was a sexually defeated man, they say, until he married a young girl late in life.
I tried to match his cadence, which fitted the subject well. We went past that same place many times while in Madrid but never spotted the man again; a moment in time giving birth to this poem.
bhi
Absolutely fabulous! My kind of poetry. I love the sheer exposure, the reality of the feelings of the loss of all things young and ripe. The horrible realisation of the passage of time and the futility of that life.
It comes to us all but set in this scene it is very dreadful and hopeless. The choice of words was very necessary and potent used in this way. This would go into my favs if we get that back in action.
First class poetry.
Alison x
Hi Alison, apologies for late reply, but the imbibing of certain liquids of high medicinal value prohibited the use of the pc!
Thank you for the generous comments; this was a poem once again promoted by a moment of “seeing” in Madrid, and the cadence fell into place when the first book i laid my eyes on on entering our home was “The Waste Land”.
all the best
bhi
Don’t give it another thought.
I totally concur. I myself have availed myself of the medicinal benefits and am well on the way to restoring myself to the rudest of health.
slàinte mhath!