Before we reached the foot
of that tower
Our eyes had been glued to its tip
Where two flashlights morsed,
And, so far off our peepers could barely see,
Another flashlight signalled back.
‘Don’t tell me,’ I said, turning to Berrigan,
‘We’re nicked.’ ‘No such luck,’ he replied,
‘Feast your eyes on the filthy water,
You’ll see our welcoming party soon enough,
Unless the marsh’s vapours
hide it.’
An SLR never shot a bullet
That cut through flesh faster
Than the coracle, covered in Tesco’s bags,
That skimmed towards us, drawn by the shades
Of Brent geese, culled for the royal visit,
With a solitary helmswoman, who was yelling:
‘Now I’ve got you, you wretched soul!
Prepare to burn!’ ‘Hold your geese,
Boudicca,’ my guide replied,
‘This dude’s just visiting.’ If you’ve seen
Someone looking real pissed when they find
Out they’ve been swindled – that was Boudicca.
As Berrigan stepped into the coracle
he handed me a pill,
saying,
‘You might need one of these,’
And only when I followed
did the coracle begin to rock.
As we cruised the course of that dead lake
Before me there rose up a mud-bespattered shape,
Saying: ‘Who are you, come before you’re called?’
And I replied: ‘Though I come here, I’ve
No intention of staying; but who are you
Sporting that mud-soaked mullet?’
‘As you can see,’ he said, ‘I’m one who weeps.’
‘Weep on,’ I replied, ‘for even covered in that
Stinking slime, I recognise you.’
Like a zombie he reached out to rock the boat,
But Berrigan my guide pushed him off with a kick,
Saying: ‘Get down there with the other dogs!’
Then he hugged me,
saying: ‘God bless you!
Up above this arrogant arsehole
Was obsessed with promotion,
selling himself to the highest bidder,
like the Whore of Babylon.
Many in LiFTS think themselves great scholars,
who here will wallow like pigs in muck,
leaving behind their repulsive fame.
In life he did nothing good, and so
his shade is filled with rage.’
‘Master,’ I said, ‘call me a sadist,
But I’d love to see him dumped
deep in the slop,
before we leave.’
‘Just watch,’ Berrigan replied, and soon after
I saw the wretch set upon
by a crowd:
‘Get Harry Potter!’ they all shouted,
And at that war cry the Frankfurter, gone mad,
Turned on himself and bit his own fingers,
The blood oozing like ketchup.
We left him there, I’ll say no more about him.
The sound of drum and bass began to pound my ears
And made me peer ahead across the water.
‘Approaching,’ said Berrigan, ‘is Cannabis Castle,
with its iron walls and its hardened dopers.’
And I: ‘Already I can see the
bright glow of the spliffs
across the swamp.’
And he to me: ‘Those are rather fires,
From nightlights carelessly left burning
On stereos and televisions,
Causing the eternal conflagration
that burns within,
that no fire-extinguisher can put out.’
We sailed around till at last we
reached the shore, where Boudicca shouted:
‘Alight here! This is the entrance-way!’
I saw the best minds of the Student Union
Perched above the gates, enraged, screaming:
‘Who’s this cunt approaching? Who, without a
Student card, dares to enter the kingdom of
The dead?’ My wise teacher flashed his ID,
Asking to speak to them in private.
They suppressed their rage enough to say:
‘You may enter, but that breather
goes no further.
Let him retrace his fool’s path
alone, let’s see him try.
You’re staying right here where you belong!’
Gentle reader, imagine how I shat myself,
When those words reached my ears!
I thought I’d never see the light of day more.
‘Ted,
don’t leave me here,
I beg you!’ I cried,
‘If we can’t go any further,
let’s turn tail now,
while we still can.’
Then Berrigan, who had guided me this far,
Took out his Lucky Strikes,
and offered me a smoke.
‘Wait here,’ he said, ‘and don’t despair yet.
You can bet your bottom dollar
I won’t leave you in this hell-hole.’
At this, he walked away,
to parley with them,
Leaving me to battle with my thoughts.
I couldn’t hear what he proposed,
but they were having none of it.
I saw them turn
and shut the heavy gates
In Berrigan’s face.
He turned towards me
His eyes downcast,
playing with his beard.
‘Who are these shits to forbid my entrance
To the halls of grief?
But don’t worry,
They haven’t got a leg to stand on.
This insolence of theirs is nothing new,
They showed it once before, at the Knowledge Gateway,
Which I can assure you
is now unlocked.
You saw the deadly words inscribed on its portals.
And now, already through them, comes one
Who will open this fucking gate for us.’