The past is now passed

I used to love that

word we spell “fix”: a wonderful ambiguity

of in-

tuitively, teacherly,

contradictory meaning – not

entirely good and never

entirely bad.

Human as few,

and as me and you,


Fix to repair temporary;

in a fix to be caught


fixed to cheat

cruel and


then fix to glue usefully,


and fix – even – to get that old


p’raps by sniffing too wild or too mad or too bad.

(We’ve all been, gone and come

running like this; all done bad and

good sometime, don’t yer



And in all of these meanings,

a grand humanity

is grander en-

compassed: a north, a south,

an east and west –

no rest for this humanity we manifest.


But today, as I watched that beautiful young woman –

much younger than me, and still with a

life ahead

to go and pleasure …


… and leisurely I watched

and observed exactly

how she put her make-up – not made-up at all, but gently

daubed fine –

on the face she remade for the world which was mine,

for just a moment now,

just a moment

then …


… and as I sat with my coffee (not wine at this hour; maybe later

in the company – one day

of the right company – I would love another with her overt

permission: not remiss of me any

more; no sore games

of abuse,

nor let loose nor undone … just the love of a man;

just the love of a

kind man).


And whilst I watched her with make-up,

I realised my new word

of humanity


was no longer that “fix”

from decade-painful and

wayback; from

times I no longer honestly can be.


For “make up” makes its own

multiple meanings:

to make up a face of beauty;

to make up a story;

to make up after misunderstanding (where

possibly made-up stories do often play

their part!);

but most importantly, from where I now

rest my soul,

in my Liverpool of personal recovery,

to be “made up” isn’t

a lie; isn’t

a face; isn’t

a disgrace of unforgivable and unconscious try …


… rather, much more true, to the me

I’d honestly like yous to see,

to be “made up” is to enjoy once and for all

the finest moments

a life ever did give.


To relive in company of the best people you can hold

the bold and ancient sincerities

of hugging and kissing

and touching out-


and the good bought and sold that comes from

knowing – true and ultimate – one’s value to

cool society: and then to be

one of the cool,

not the fool any more; not that 

for any {[he]art}.


Not in pecuniary terms; not to be

tipped into a slavery.

Simply the exchange of the best and those

who’d prefer that “made up”

to the rank bitter taste of realities so denied:

denied so frequent-


and so regular,

and so long.


And now I see it equal clear, and she fixed me

that bad; but the veil of confusing

railings has clattered its wrought changing

to the ground I now choose to stand and

step on: the hallowed

place and founds of people who love out of hearts and minds:

no longer

the resigning

of those discomforting {ti[es]}.


No longer do I have to give way to all of this pain:

it’s ended at last –

for the past is now passed.


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