Kiriban at 19, 191
"Practice makes something reasonably passable for a perfectionist. "
The Memory of Mr DowsonI shall die an immortal's deathThe Memory of Mr Dowson by Audley
And never feel any pain
And never breathe a final breath
Whose air could fall to rain
For all these things are better left
For those who courted blame
And looks morose so looked the host
Who knew they'd never die
They held the glasses 'loft to toast
And stood above the sky
With rhymers and the dandy boasts
That poets always lie
I never thought I'd ever choose
The lover's love lost sigh
And then again I never knew
That you would see me cry
And you look like I know you too
For knowest you not I?
So in the leaver's perfect art
There always is the crow
Though heartless always has a heart
Where vine leaves often grow
And plays too well the player's part
As something they don't know.
Life of the PartyWhile I was there -Life of the Party by Audley
in my smoking coat, smoking -
I knew all the while as my spleen filled with bile,
with my topper topped up and my face with its smile,
that whatever was said to the living was dead
and I thought that I had to be joking.
Not long before when I saw whom I sawed
and I bored whom I bored,
and thawed out whom I'd thawed,
glasses tinkled with cheer
and I loved you, my dear -
I loved you, I loved you so much.
You didn't believe me and neither did I
for I am the best when I'm telling a lie,
but I'm sure that I meant it,
dreamt of it and spent it,
and at the bottom of our glasses
where life so quickly passes,
there, it most certainly was spent.
Well I said hello to him- well, wouldn't you?
Well would you do had you saw him, too.
Dullard after dollar, squalid after squalor,
wine down the front, on 'bund after cummer,
wife scandalised, scandal eyes when I look her
like I had shook her the time that I took her.
The life of the party, aren't we?
The music is louder, the air is h