Beat Out That Rhythm on a Drum

Today, I was walking around West Yorkshire and getting reacquainted with the place, off the back of what little I already knew. I was in Todmorden, and trust me, I’ve never been there and it’s not raining. It was raining like mad there so once I was done, since I had nothing else to do I got the train back to Mytholmroyd where I met up with Just A Good Friend, and had a little wander around my village to see what’s what. Suddenly, huge, roaring grey-to-black clouds appeared as if from nowhere in a very menacing way and I was EXCITED. I’ve seen thunderstorms but this was different – it was HERE, we were in the very EYE of it, within seconds the warm air around us had started to swirl upwards and turn cool, leaves were ripping themselves free of the trees and after seeing several flashes of lightning, we saw this almighty fork of it appear for a full second perhaps, and so instead of being sensible and going home and about our business, we thought actually, why not just GO AND CHASE AFTER IT THIS IS THE RIGHT MOMENT! Sensible people would’ve hidden. I did actually go home after it, because the rain got a bit too much, but whilst chasing the storm we were listening to a re-working of Beat Out That Rhythm on a Drum from Carmen, done by Marc Almond. It has this very schizoid way of having two songs being sung alongside eachother, and today made me think of that, in lots of ways. I’m getting cryptic now but there’s nothing cryptic about the poem. Funny, I can be way more obvious in poetry than I can be in life. It’s called Beat Out That Rhythm on a Drum. 

we drove your car up to the highest
it was the stormclouds that were steering
                    (it feels like twenty million tom toms)
the rain was pounding with this violence
a bullwhip oiled to stop the snagging
                    (i know there’s twenty million tom toms)
and when we parked we tripped up running
to catch the thunder in its prelude
                    (way down deep inside my bones)
we threw our coats off onto the crags
your whetted hands tug at a waistband
                    (beat out that rhythm on a drum!)
your belt demanded my attention
we used to dream that this would happen
                    (beat out that rhythm on a drum!)
and lightening flashbulbs from the folly
like it was admiring our bodies
                    (and then i get a kind of dream)
i used to fear of getting clothes wet
i had the comforts of the city
                    (and in my dream it kind of seems)
but now am returned to the country
and so am returned back to you
                    (there’s just one heart in all the world)
a victim of your own obsessions
the vicious wasteland of the country
                    (there’s not but one big heart for all the world)
how it dictates the names we call for
we must now walk back with our clothes wet
                    (beat out that rhythm on a drum!)
i guess we’ll both need to take showers
the radio thrumming in our ears
                    (beat out that rhythm on a drum!)

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