Link to an audio sample of a new poem of mine. Only got the guide vox on there at the moment though.

www.myspace.com/johntogher

Hi John,
I am always impressed by your poetry but I think this one truly is exceptional, I think you were very brave to read it at the Tudor last night. I like the recording and I think it works well as a performance piece but I also think it would make a really good paper as it has so many layers, please could you put it on the thread so that I can read it, I think this poem is one you could take something different from on each new reading.
Well done.
xxx

Hi Sophie,
To be honest, I was like that as I assumed it was about computers which I'm not very fond of and what it actually stands for is far more distasteful...but I like it because it is a bizarre poem, that tells a story and comprises graphic, vulgar and vivid imagery.
It's a very long time since I read Dante's Inferno which is one of my favourite poems, but there is a definate feel of it in this poem - the imagery and especially the bit were he climbs inside people to escape hell. I trally do think it is an incredible poem.
And on a seperate note, yes girl get yourself down to Wigan I don't go normally as I normally have my girls and the place isn't suitable for their age but it is a great night.
Magi
xxxx

This is a rough version. Needs a bit of work.


I took six little steps to Heaven
Rode that glory train to the promised land
But was met by those do-gooding gatekeepers
Who spat in my face and kicked in my teeth
Saying "Get thee, Heathen, to Hell!"

And I fell and I fell and I fell...
I fell a thousand cavernous miles into
The putrid bowels of the Earth
Into a pit of turgid afterlife
Landing in a trough of pit and shit and paedophillic cum.

I climb out, naked and drenched
In this gooey rotten paste to the
Sound of 100 tortured demons moaning.
I see a war-torn landscape
Desolate yet dreamlike.
The ringing of children's bicycle bells
And the spasmodic thudding of tribal drums
Surrounds as I'm greeted by a Devil-fish stranger.

He whispers into my ear
Passes on the secrets to these dark places
Tells me of tormented souls and mystical connotations.
I turn away my face from his rotten egg breath.

He leads me by his blood red hands
Through a dizzying array of depravity and torture
where the faces of children melt in fires
And the old are charred to their bones.

But still the drums and bicycle bells
Still the drums and bicycle bells

I'm led to a room of sanguine hope
Where promises are made
At the end of a rope

He tells me of a way out
Offers me a chance of redeption
A challange to overcome and set myself frree.

He shows me a room on the back of his hand
Made of stone and blood, bone and soil.
There appears on the wall a pulsing hole
A taut entrance, like that of an anus.

I'm transported to this room by the
Breath of the Devil-fish stranger
With instructions to enter the anus,
Crawl through the passage,
Seek out the Key of redeption
And return on the loop of the wind.

But still those drums and bicycle bells
Still those drums and bicycle bells.

So I enter the anus, squeeze myself through
Feel the scurvy hands of sufferers groping
At my legs as I crawl into the void.

The tunnel narrows and I hurry along
On my hands and knees.
I see a light, a pale escape from this anal cavity
And with a scurry I am spat out into a red room.

I see the figure of a woman
Under velvet sheets on a bed
Writhing her way to some wicked ecstasy.
I ask, politely, for the key
And she looks at me with Vietnam
in her eyes, pointing to her dark, pubic place.

I appraoch cautiously, my hand outstretched.
Climbing onto the bed, she opens
Her legs wide; a gateway to my freedom.

I stick in my hand, an arm's length and grope
Around as she takes in a breath
Slyly fondles a nipple
Into a nub of submission.

I feels something hard, metal and withdraw slowly.

The Key.

I am thrown back through the tunnel
And see the smiling face of the Devil-fish stranger.
He takes the key from me and in a flash
I wake up on a bed of cold iron.

My wife stands over me
As a Priest comforts her.
A clock strike four
And I rise from the bed
with a smile on my face.

10th line should read 'Landing in a trough of piss and shit and paedophillic cum.'

As I though John, this poem just gets better and better each time I read it. I'm glad that you put it on in word form as I wasn't sure if it was bicycle bowels or bells so that answers that and I thought it was a devil--fist stranger not fish.
I absolutlely love the line 'Vietnam in her eyes.' that's absolutely gorgeous and 'the sanguine hope' is very evocative.
I really think this is one of the best poems I've read.
Can I ask you was it inspired by Dante's Inferno or is there no link?

Ooh and I really like 'answers at the end of a rope.' I so love this poem.
xxx