Collection of the Night

This be the Verse

By Philip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.   

    They may not mean to, but they do.   

They fill you with the faults they had

    And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

    By fools in old-style hats and coats,   

Who half the time were soppy-stern

    And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

    It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

    And don’t have any kids yourself.

 

Love Again

By Philip Larkin

Love again: wanking at ten past three   

(Surely he’s taken her home by now?),   

The bedroom hot as a bakery,

The drink gone dead, without showing how   

To meet tomorrow, and afterwards,

And the usual pain, like dysentery.

Someone else feeling her breasts and cunt,   

Someone else drowned in that lash-wide stare,   

And me supposed to be ignorant,

Or find it funny, or not to care,

Even ... but why put it into words?

Isolate rather this element

That spreads through other lives like a tree   

And sways them on in a sort of sense   

And say why it never worked for me.   

Something to do with violence

A long way back, and wrong rewards,   

And arrogant eternity.

In the mood for Love

by me

This woman with her beauty so divine
Has made me wish that I was blind
For when I look upon her face
My heart is filled with lustful rage

She wears her curves like a queen
My fantasies are never seen
The only thing I want to do
Is take her in my arms and screw

She moves like a goddess in the night
My carnal desires take flight
To take her in passion's embrace
Would put me in an eternal daze

I'd pleasure her in every way
My carnal nature would not stay
And leave her screaming my name in bliss
Until I'm spent and she's dismissed.