Towering city AND people

Liverpool stands and falls

and picks itself up and fights and tussles

and bashes and batters and never gives in

and never gives up, and never stops giving.

And so Liverpool

never abandons

and never randomly hurts

and never

unhandsomely refuses to share

and never chooses not to care.

And so this rarity is the city and people

who enshrine,

like temple of grace,

the hasty kindnesses

of a life lived hard,

and loved,

as shards of ever-so-temporal


Without hesitation or doubt;

without flouting the humanity

which divides us from the trees

and the undergrowth

of terrible tangled web:

of everything we always

left unsaid.

And so there is nowt

which now does separate me

from the liberties of a Liverpool

so loud

and sound

and proud.

A lifetime

of hope

against violence and fires stoked

by men and women

of evil revealing,

and individuals who preferred

to see the disagreement

before the acquaintance;

the falling-out

before the embrace.

So taste me and hold me

and love me now,

for one day it’ll sure be too late.

And remember if you can:

no hate do I harbour further.

Just a firm desire

no longer to wire

the resistance of the cabled sad.

I am free of the cruel.

I am no longer your tool.

No longer sat

between two high-and-mighty stools.

And Liverpool is reason enough

why I must stride so high:

Liverpool a love so brave

and wise, I find myself unable to query

its why.

Revel in your thrive, instead;

make no war,

only life;

and give thanks historical

and automagical

to this wonder

of Scouser, alive!


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