57 Poems about the River Medway was a book written by Tracie Jenkins in response to the 'Medway Poets' whom she deemed to be unworthy of the name.

Tracie Jenkins believed that a Medway Poet should write only about the river Medway and should steer clear of angst, misery and dyslexia.

Tracie Jenkins led by example. Her first poems about the river Medway were written in Medway river mud on the walls of the Sun Pier Hotel using a discarded paint brush.

57 Poems about the River Medway was published by KrycoVision and is now out of print.

Tracie Jenkins has permitted us to reprint her 57 poems

So here the are...

1. A Fat Drunken Man

Empty wet Medway river,
Stealing past,
All that has withered,
A fat drunken man,
Threatens to jump in,
His friend has to wake at 5 am,
And so convinces himself,
This bald drunk friend CAN swim,
But he can't.
He drowns.

2. Oi! Carp!

Dead fat bald fish,
That splosh flash splish kiss,
What the Charlie Dickens is this?
Why,it's a drunken medway river fish!
Known locally as Oi! Carp!

3. Communist Subs

Communist subs in the medway mud,
Dead donkey rides down at strood pier,
Apolitical kids get sickled and hammered,
Saturated with fat and hereditary fear,
They eye the river with suspicion,
What the fuck you doing? Floating through here?
All big wet and mighty? Fuck off back to Africa!

4. Woah is Me

Woah is me,
By the estuary,
Man of kunt,
That effluent stench,
Of the medway towns,
How do we abide,
This unholy tide,
And kuntish man,
Why take sides?

5. Hoo Marina

Shopping trolley yacht,
Docked at allington lock,
Onboard my wife Tina,
A buxom lass, a wench so crass,
we met at Hoo Marina.

6. Medway Pirates

The somali pirates struck at dawn,
The locals were aghast,
"These buccaneers can't come over here,
doing as they like."
They hijacked a medway party boat,
And forced all with threat,
To dance non stop to Agadoo,
Until their ransom demands were met.
Tension continues to escalate,
But still they are not free,
The medway river hostages,
Shake pineapple, push the tree ...

7. The Chatham Merman

He's often spotted by the dock,
Like some monster in a loch,
A fomer dockyard employee,
He topped himself in '83,
By over revving his capri,
But something fishy came to pass,
When a tail replaced his arse,
The tattooed merman of the med,
Swims ashore to break some 'eads,
E's 'alf  a man and 'alf a fish,
The kind of fright you'd only wish,
upon Gravesend...

8. Now that's what I call art

Four dead stuckists in the mud.
What a lovely sight
Can we call this art?

9. Bashing Til The End

As I fall..

10. Jack Sprat

I is a medway poet,
Unemployable detestable
Thinking i is really cool
With middle aged nihilist angst
Fuck yer manners please, right
Yea,thanks
I is pissin in the medway river
Cause it's my river and i can
And i was interfered with by chemicals
Refused to do the census
I will scribble this on a wall
How fucking cool
Let's start a band?
Begsy I'm the singer (with cue cards if poss-cheers)

11. The Medway Lies

The Sumerian Priesthood said,
After Gilgamesh was dead,
That a sacred River ran,
On a cold and misty island far away,
So they took his body to it,
And buried him besides it,
And there he is a lying to this day,
Now some take the view,
That this story is not true,
It's the Buddha who is buried by the shore,
He came here for a laugh,
To show the middle path,
But it seems he isn't showing it any more,
Some say it is Ceaser,
That overbearing geezer,
Who came and saw,
And promptly went away,
Or Hengist and Horsa,
Or maybe even Chaucer,
You know what?
I couldn't really say,
For the truth is in disguise,
Because the Medway lies,
All the day,

12. The River Stinks Today

Fuck me - the river stinks today!
Walking over the bridge,
The water's low and mud is high,
And Cuxton's over the ridge.

And looking down from the bridge ,
At mud, pongy and gooey,
I wonder why it stinks so much,
And it makes me want to Hue-ey

But it's always been that way,
My Mother says to me,
On a summer's day when the air is still,
It can put you on one knee,

Fuck me! The river stinks today!

13. The Training Shoe

It could be said, that hope is dead,and many often do,
But I prefer another way to puking down the loo,
Take a walk on the wouldham shore,
And ponder on the training shoe,
It washed up here on the tide,
Waiting here just for you,
Walking by feeling high...
Oh my, oh my, oh my
Oh my...

14. Morgan's Lumber

The Geordie loves the river Tyne
The German likes the river Rhine
The Cockney eats his eels and slime
And Hull men like the the Humber

But I am sure in my mind
That those rivers are behind
To the standard set cruel and kind
At the Medway at Morgan's lumber

15. On The Beach

On the Beach
Sur la plage
Waves are crashing
Sabotage
Men in black
On the shore
Raiding party
From the nore
Here we come
Girls of Strood
Over the river
feeing rude
Soon we'll be
In the town
Roaring drunk
And in the nude
And when we're done
Home we'll go
Crossing the river
Nice and slow
Up the mud
In the flow
To the road
Home we go

(Another one from Ms Jenkins Shit-house period. First published in the Eagle Tavern in rochester 1977)

16. Stroodie Sam

When Chatham man,
Saw the pram,
He pushed it in the river,
When Stroodie Sam,
pissed in the dam
He had no time to dither,
Coming here,
It's plainly clear
That pizza men deliver
From their bikes
A pile of shite
And we crap it in the river

17. Delta Schmelta Schmuck

There is a poet who thinks he knows,
Of misery, suffering and dyslexic prose,
And though that doesn't bother me,
He can really get me going,

It isn't because he doesn't work,
Or the civic duties he might shirk,
Or the eccentric outfits that wears,
But the estuary he calls a delta,

And though it doesn't really matter,
After all, he's mad as a hatter,
Eccentric and erroneous geography,
Can really drive me nuts,

So please dear Billy be informed,
The mouth of the Medway so perfectly formed,
Does not spread like fingers on a hand,
It's not like the river Ganges.

The Medway river wide and proud,
Muddy, salty, with a misty shroud,
Is a single river where it comes out,
that flows into the Thames,

You name it wrong by calling it so,
And insult the river we both love so,
So remember now and remember it well,
It is an estuary - not a delta!

18. Upnor Beach

The Medway is constantly moving,
It drags silt and mud and bones,
And did you know,
That years ago,
Its path was very much wider

But that was when men were few,
And the world was very much warmer,
When Elephants roamed,
And cavemen combed,
The beach that is now called Upnor,

And how they lived we can but guess,
But some things we know are clear,
In mud sand and grit,
and fossilised shit,
They left clues for us to ponder,

But what of us, what will we leave,
For future folk to find?
And looking round,
one thing is clear,
Rubber jellyfish
Gossamer light or Latex sheer

19. My Brother's Kittens

Four cats in the Medway
My brothers kittens
Why?

20. Judge Dread

I took trip the other day
Sailing down to Snodland bay
Disembarked at the paper mill
I caught a bus to Snodland hill
Looking for a place to eat
I plonked my arse upon a seat
Over by a field of hay
I saw a street called Titty-Bum Way
Getting up and feeling bolder
Walking over my blood grew colder
For there he was bald and dead
The King of rude, big Judge Dread
So while I could and while I was able
I put my cards upon the table
Answered he through mystic means
From his belly of old baked beans
Farting being his communication
He told told me tales of fornication
When all was said and all was done
The reggae king looked to the sun
And though his songs do not refrain
He bid me well on the rudeness train
So off I went back to Strood
With strange ideas, mostly rude

Judge Dread: Big 6

21. Gypsy Tart

Medway mud, like gypsy tart
Eat too much and it will make you fart!

22. Dead Fish, Fuck it.

Dolphins are spotted in the river,
Their toxic flippers all a quiver,
Borstal tenants come to gloat,
And film the dead porpoises,
As they float.

The local council thinks it's fun,
"Profit" screams an economist,
So they ferry in fish by the ton,
And employ a dead marine biologist.
There's dead basking sharks,
Dead humpbacked whales,
And dead plankton by the bucket,
And a random living man,
In a river boat,
Repeatedly shouts out,
"Fuck it!"

A dead marlin in the railway tavern,
Is spoiling for a fight,
A dead hammerhead shark in upnor,
Says 'who you calling a ponce?'
Not me said the jellyfish,
Who then all at once,
Glassed a seahorse family,
Who just stopped by for brunch!

The civic centre is heaving,
Not everyone is amused,
So many dead sea creatures,
Are clogging up the sluice.
The river in the lock keeps rising
, Houses begin to flood,
1970's carpets,
Soiled with silt and mud.
Bailing out the water,
Many hands, many buckets,
And now so many livid men,
Repeatedly shouting,
"Fuck it!"

23. Broom Hill Island

Goddington road is underwater,
There's panic in the town,
Global warming comes to Medway,
Let's head for higher ground,
Broom hill is now a haven,
Class distinction starts to fade,
The chavs, the toffs and polar bears,
All are getting laid,
It's getting hotter by the moment,
Coconut palms line the parade,
Broom hill is now a tropical island,
Where Bounty ads are made,
  Fleshy girls in bikinis,
Are fighting in the sand,
Topless chavs with stella,
Polish up their glands,
The medway is now an ocean,
A salty mess with waves,
The spire of the cathedral,
Vanished in just two days,
Many swam to croydon,
My mate Gary built a boat,
A sealed papier mache thing,
That wouldn't even float
It looked nice though ,

24. Come on then, you want some

For how far I swam that day.

25. River Body Parts

Eight body bits,
washed up near the old shorts factory,
So the cops decided to reassemble,
The gruesome river mystery,
GFC across the neck,
Club feet,
Chinese head.
Tattooed anchors on the forearms,
Love n hate hands,
A beard, a cock,
A very cheap watch,
Enormous mammary glands...

26. Medway owns you

Cliché clouds puffy white,
Somehow do not look right,
Looking down on the Medway.
Looking down like so many do,
Forgetting like me and you,
The Medway made them.
But one day,
Heavy and grey,
They will fall,and flow to drains,
And they will find for all their pains.
The Medway owns them.

27. Sun Pier (Too Late, Bob)

Grey-green,
Grey-blue,
Bobbing, flowing,
Always showing,
White ridges,
Living under bridges,
Dancing beneath Sun Pier,
Giggling at Anchorage House,
Where Tax Men toil,
To spoil the day,
Of pressurised, punished, unhappy human beings,
Carbonated water,
Pushed into bottles,
Lifted by the big blue crane,
Silos of rice by the riverside,
In some deservedly abused, unloved, Industrial Estate,
Here,
We await,
Our fate,
Too late,
Bob!

28. Strood Pier

The silver flows,
And daystars jump,
They sparkle beneath the morning sun.
I raise my hand in false salute,
And shield my eyes from shooting pain.
Cold winds blow upon my neck,
Hot rays land and burn my face.
I hear the trains rumble by,
Going to some other place.
But I stay here,
Beneath Strood pier,
Away from busy bridges,
I sit alone,
On my muddy home,
Among, bicycles, cones and fridges.

29. My Brass Telescope

Someone sprayed acapolips on the castle,
I think they meant apocalypse,
I saw it from my river home,
Through a brass telescope,
I see a lot through it,
So much my brain can't cope,
Once I saw an epileptic
fornicate a hedge,
And a flasher in a rain mac,
Rode Jackson fields on a sledge,
I saw a mighty tiger,
Drink shandy in The Bull,
And a fast speed train to meopham,
Shrank into a mule,
I spied some local gothics,
blacking up some walls,
And skinheads on a picnic,
Were sharpening up some tools,
I saw some medway poets,
Fighting in a bar,
I gathered them together,
And put them in a jar,
When the lid is open,
There foul poetic smell,
Wafts into my riverboat home,
And makes me feel like a better poet.

30. Swirling Water

Under the bridge,
In the water,
By the piers,
Swirling water,
Dangerous currents,
Spinning round,
Dangerous whirlpools,
Dragging you down,
Dragging you down and sucking you under,
Dangerous whirlpools,
Dragging you under,
Swirling and twirling in the water,
Gasping lungs full of water,
You jumped the bridge,
You shouldn't 'ave oughter,
And now you're in the swirling water,
You won't come up for quite a while,
The dangerous currents will keep you down,
When you surface it'll be too late,
You jumped the bridge and sealed your fate,
The currents took you and held you down,
There was no way you wouldn't drown,
So they found you half in the water,
Fat and bloated half in mud,
In the mud,
In the water,
Near the sub, near the pier,
Fat and bloated,
Near Strood Pier.

31. O Medway

Oh Medway,
Mighty Medway,
You rise from the Ashdown Forest,
At Turner's Hill,
A mere trickle still,
You make your way to Tonbridge,
On from there,
With style and flair,
Through Kentish town and without a care,
Into Maidstone and through the lock,
The tidal waters are a shock,
But now you're free and on you go,
A wider river to the Thames.

32. Medway Shrimps

Shrimp poachers,
In the mud,
In the estuary,
Stealing shrimps,
Medway Shrimps,
Little Shrimps,
They take our shrimps,
Bastards,
Gits,
I hate them all,
Why?
Because they steal our shrimps!

33. The Fishy Chavvy

It was a misty morn,
They met at dawn,
Down at the Sun Pier at Chatham,
Their mission plain,
To end the pain,
Of the terrors of the mad merman,
He was a terror,
This fishy error,
Of spliced genes of Chav and turbot,
He came to be,
in '83,
Sunk his Capri,
Fuck me,
What do I see,
He's after me,
To big for me,
This fishy Chavvy,
Help me...
Glug!
 

34. Comet stuff

Two gases burn,
And the ash is nice,
Two gases join and turn to ice,
Fly through space,
Comet fantastic,
Explode on Earth,
Create the Atlantic,
I am the dew,
I am the Ocean,
I have been you,
Your tears are my motion,
I was your sweat,
I am eternal,
I am the wet,
I require your devotion,
Devour me,
Or dry up and die,
I am the Sea,
And I fly in the sky,
Most of you is me,
You are carbonated water,
I flow in the veins,
Of your son and your daughter,
I am the Medway,
The Thames and the Tyne,
I am your tea, your beer and your wine,
I am you and you are me,
Always heading for the sea,
Always heading for the sky,
I am water,
I can't die.

(Another one from Tracy's days with the Shithouse poets. 'Brown and Proud' is typical of the genre. First published in the toilets of Scamps nightclub.)

35. Brown and proud

Once I shat in a sewerage farm,
Out it came as big as me arm.
I chained it up,
Took it for a walk,
Dragged it through town,
Fed it on chalk.
By Rochester bridge,
I set it free,
A sailing turd,
As big as a tree.
Off it sailed,
Brown and proud,
Far from my arse,
And the shitting crowd.

36. Turner's Hill

When I was a naughty girl,
I went to Turner's Hill,
And what I did is very bad,
And some remember it still,
For you see there is a hole,
In a muddy field,
Where water gurgles,
Clear and clean,
The Medway source revealed,
I stuck my finger in the hole,
Waited a minute or two,
And giggled as the river dried,
Revealing tons of pooh!

37. Oi! Carp Again!

Oi! Carp!
You drunken Medway river fish!
Oi! Carp!
Not even fit for my cat's fish!
Oi! Carp!
You really ought to be more clear!,
Burbling noises in my ear!

38. Snuck Up Our Snatch

In '76,
The Chinooks flew,
Across the Medway night,
Back and forth to Chattenden,
Where soldiers learnt to fight.

What happened to all the engineers,
Who built them nuclear subs?
Are all them grafters, trades and skills,
Now pissed up in the pubs?

We even made flying boats,
Like the S type 184,
Built by the brothers Short,
Along the Medway shore.

The Medway had more purpose then,
Cranes lined the skies,
And the navy they defended us,
From Communistic spies.

But in 1667,
The Dutch snuck up our snatch,
Fighting with no gloves,
Their surprise was hard to match.

Three of our biggest ships,
Were destroyed amidst the gloom,
Then thankfully the Dutch fucked off,
For a pint of Oranjeboom...
(AKA Dutch Courage)

39. The River Medway

From Turners Hill to the Isle Sheppey,
It flows for seventy miles,
It rises from a little hole,
Gurgling in a field,
At Forest Row canoes once reached,
But Penshurst is more usual,
At Tonbridge it's a proper river,
Flowing down to Yalding,
At Maidstone it's much wider now,
And once it was industrial,
And Allington, through a lock,
The river now is tidal,
Now the water's brown and salty,
But not really yet an estuary,
Through Ashford where the friars live,
And to Snodland, Wouldham and Cuxton,
And now we come to Rochester bridge,
At Strood and Rochester castle,
In the pool is the Russian sub,
And Frindsbury on the hill,
Now we come to Chatham,
Where the dockyard rules the roost,
The other side is Upnor,
A castle that failed to defend,
At Hoo the river's wider now,
An estuary we can call it,
Mud and islands, mist and marsh,
Horrid hill and Halstow,
Kingsnorth, Upchurch, and Iwade,
Stoke, Grain and the Isle of Sheppey,
Now it flows into the Thames,
Its journey finally over.

40. The Old Bourne

The Old Bourne,
Hidden river,
Underground,
Hidden river,
It comes from Luton,
Hidden River,
In a pipe,
Hidden river,
To the Medway,
Hidden river,
At Rat bay,
Hidden river,
Pouring free,
Hidden river,
In the Medway,
Hidden River.

41. Rochester Bridge

In the dead of night,
I had a fright,
when walking over the bridge,
A man came out,
From a hatch,
In the riveted plates of the girders,

He was quite drunk,
And very young,
and said his name Ridgeway,
And that every night,
When he came home,
He crawled deep inside girders,

The way in he climbed,
was very tight,
and he gave a quick demonstration,
And off he went,
Inside the bridge,
And dropped onto the gantry,

I waited for a little while,
Wondering if he were drown,
And up he came on the other side,
And said, the Bridge Wardens were none the wiser".

42. A Million Years Ago

I am the river Medway,
My sibling is the Thames,
He is my bigger brother,
Together 'til the end,
And though he is much bigger than me,
A mighty English river,
There was a time,
When he bowed down,
To our wayward bigger sister,

Our sister moved to Germany,
They call her the river Rhine,
And many years it was ago,
A long way back in time,
But once we were together,
a million years ago,
And no northern sea between us,
To interrupt our flow,

43. Stuckist Again

The other day,
Down Chatham way,
I saw a Stuckist in the Mud,
He struggled in a figurative way,
With oils and canvas and easel,

"Hi," said I, "What are you doing,
"Painting a wonderful picture?"
"No", said he "It's better than that,
I'm painting a stuckist manifesto!"

But can we call it art?

44. The Flat Fish Pond

My mum told me about the flat fish pond,
She told me never to swim in it,
She told me about boys who had drown in it,
Dragged under by weeds,
Or trapped under ledges,
But when I was fifteen,
I went down to the riverside,
Where she told me never to go,
To the flat fish pond,
A horrible pond of lime and slime,
By the Motorway bridge,
By the river Medway,
An old chalk pit full of water,
And my friends stripped naked,
And started swimming,
And I jumped in too,
And I swum,
And came out again,
Feeling very guilty,
And I went home,
Then years later,
Told my children,
Never to swim in the flat fish pond,

45. Miss Jenkins Floats

From Tonbridge I floated,
On my rubber ring,
Avoiding at Yalding,
The flow, and flush, and fling,
Of dangerous white water,
Where other rivers meet,
And all the time,
reading Poetry,
Held between my feet.
My hands I used as paddles,
My hands I used as oars,
And then I spotted Billy,
Floating on two doors,
He was painting pictures
Of Mermaids and fish
Whilst eating Oi! Carp,
From a silver dish,
And sometimes I wonder,
When I'm floating thus,
Wouldn't it be easier,
To catch a train or bus?

46. Miss Jenkins Sinks

Still on my rubber ring adventure,
The river took me fast,
And I was getting very tired,
Of the soaking of me arse.
I headed off from Yalding,
To the bridge at Wateringbury,
I drank six cans of cider,
And I was feeling merry,
And then it really hit me,
It really was a shock,
When I landed in the weir,
Up at by Teston lock.
Water engulfed me,
I swam towards a ladder,
Then feelings of fear and fright,
Hit my cider-swollen bladder.
'You can't swim there,'
A Policeman said, sadly with a frown,
'It is against the law to swim in weirs,
I'm afraid you'll have to drown.'
'I'm not Virginia woolf,' I said,
'I'm a writer with some pride,
It's not for me the nasty fate,
Of a watery suicide.'
But then my rubber ring came by,
I grabbed it without delay,
And headed for Kettle Corner,
The next bridge on the way.
The Policeman chased in hot pursuit,
All angry and a'quiver,
He wanted to arrest me,
For pissing in the river,
He yelled,
He screamed,
He cycled fast,
And on his whistle he tooted,
Then he pulled his tazer out
And himself he electrocuted,
Though how I do not know,
The matter is much disputed,
By many learned men,
Such as lawyers and the like,
Who say the tazer missed me,
And some how hit his bike.
The shock sent him forward with a mighty crash,
But he was dead,
Or so they said,
Before the river splash,
I meanwhile floated on,
Past East Farleigh Tovil and Fant
Whilst composing in acid prose,
An anti-Establishment rant.

47. By The River

Rochester bridge,
Walking, walking,
Dead of night,
Talking, talking,
To a friend,
Walking, talking,
Over the bridge,
Walking, walking.

Into Strood,
Still we're talking,
By the river,
Whispering and walking,
Sitting down,
No more talking,
By the river,
Quiet and looking.

Sitting still,
By the river,
Looking over,
Across the river,
The other side
Over the river,
Rochester castle,
Across the river.

Awkward silence,
Will he kiss me?
Awkward silence,
Should I kiss him?
Awkward silence,
Arm around me,
Awkward silence,
Then he kissed me.

And so we kissed,
By the river,
My first love,
By the river,
We stayed an hour,
By the river,
Kissing, cuddling,
By the river.

Three months later,
By the river,
Crying shouting,
By the river,
Though I loved him,
By the river,
We broke up,
By the Medway.

48. Filling Space

Roses are red,
The Medway is blue,
This poem is awful,
And not at all true

49. A haiku?

A Frog jumped in the Medway,
Splash!
Is that a haiku?
NO!

49. On Thee?

Salutations, my big wet friend,
Not sure where you start,
Not sure where you end.
Is the Swale your sister?
Is Grain your conclusion?
Is Sheerness truly on sea,
Or is she in fact,
On thee?

50. Green

Green today you are,
I saw you from my car,
I thought,
How bizzarre!
Then,
SPLASH!

51. Gillimot and Swan

Thru green water,
I some time swim,
From island to island,
From Stoke shore.
Sail south,
Past Dead man's island,
Find the Forbidden Peninsula,
Partly hidden,
And eat,
Gillimot and swan.

(Over the years Rochester has changed. Tracy is not best pleased with some of the changes!)

52. Jewel Upon The Arse

Rochester-Upon-Medway,
Thinks it has it all,
A cathedral,
A Norman Castle,
Not related to Roy.

Rochester-Upon-Medway,
Rochester up its arse,
Full of pomp and ceremony,
Ye olde worlde farce.

Rochester city councillors,
Think we're a bunch of fools,
They'll blow off Charlie Dickens,
Whilst underfunding schools.

Rochester-Upon-Medway,
Have you no shame,
You gentrified our boozers,
Obsessed with your own fame.

Rochester-Upon-Medway,
Remember Under The clock,
You turned it into a restaurant,
Full of pompous cock.

Rochester-Upon-Medway,
Jewel upon the arse,
Full of pomp and ceremony,
Ye olde worlde farce.

53. Estuary Song

I am heading for the Estuary,
Goin' drop by drop,
Going to the Estuary,
I will never stop,
Salt Water is coming in,
Courtesy of the Moon,
Trying to hold me back,
But I will get there soon,

54. O salmon

O salmon
Come up,
Come up my estuary of glottal stops,
And ink ta'oos,
The fatal paws of long forgotten bears,
Departed with the glaciers,
The spears of the log-boat fisherman,
Have rotted in the Medway,
Their children for the Wouldham shore,
To build websites in attics,
Now they drink in taverns,
wear aprons and reveal one sock,
In cold conspiracy
Against the working class,
Who being unprepared to defend themselves,
Are trapped in mud,
Like the BMX thrown in from the Halling side,
By some maladjusted youth,
Determined in truth,
To break the heart of his young weak cousin.
Come salmon,
Come,
Let me eat your pink flesh.

55. At Rivers end

At Rivers end,
Yet not the Sea,
I saw you, and you saw me,
From Sitt. To Whit. To Whit to woo,
I sat in Sitt. I sat with you.
The Medway fed by creek
And Swale, Sheppey,
Is one mud whale,
Of Marsh and hill,
And Prison blues,
Where thick thick mud
Will steal your shoes.
And old kagouls wet and yellow,
Hardly protects a fellow,
From rain wind
And flat flat sea,
Not ocean or River,
But Estuary,
My Medway sits
Beside the Thames
And Grain giraffes
Are feeding ships,
And if this water is the mouth,
I guess I live upon your lips,
Lets be together my old friend,
From Sussex field,
To River's end.

56. Rave On

Rave on Medway,
Confluence of ghouls,
Rave over what is rotten,
Pass dank slimy pools.

Rave on Medway,
Rave over brook,
With vortex of plastic
Split condoms and muck.

Rave on Medway,
Pass the industrial sidings,
Where paper mills and Cuxton's Chills,
Announce your dark tidings.

Rave on up Station Road,
Rave on estuary,
Under arches,
And train tunnels.
Onto Frindsbury.

Rave on Medway,
Rave past the esplanade,
Laugh a while at the locals,
They think they're oh so hard.

Rave on Medway,
Rave past shirtless freaks,
Who threaten you the river,
The poets and the geeks.

Pass rats and puking children,
Fists raised as if to dowse,
Pass tourists by the castle,
With foreign names like Klaus.

Rave on past Chatham,
Move as fast as you can,
For there pitiless creatures,
Are pretending to be man.

Rave on Medway,
Your dribble and your spew,
Rave on from the Ashdown Forest,
To the peninsula at Hoo.

Rave on Medway,
Amazonian dwarf,
From Allington To Wouldham,
Sun Pier To Gun Wharf.

Rave on past Brompton,
Pass a pit of human glitches,
And bid ye farewell to Medway's,
Sumo sized bitches..

Rave on Medway,
Rave on...

57. It Dilutes Us All

In the end the Medway dilutes us all,
Like cheap orange cordial.

The End

Please note, that Tracie Jenkins does not exist in this particular universe. She cannot be contacted for recitals.