Composed upon sidcup spoons (in all of 5 minutes)

A sticky pub table,

A storybook, a fable

A day with nothing to do.


Bald cunts laugh behind us

The sound travels sidewards 

Then suddenly we’re laughing too


The weekend is golden and long

And on your lips a homely song 

We’re glad of this break, that much is true.


From Blogger iPhone client

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Steadfast Tin Soldier and The Things I Wish I’d Told You

This is a silly one where I experimented with rhyme and a bit of a palindromic structure!  My good friend, steadfast tin soldier, And years of wishing I’d been bolder When your tin soldier boots march you away  From your girl at home, and things she didn’t say. Wave goodbye, steadfast tin soldier, But turn and glance over your shoulder To childhood, measured in ruler-spans- A memory of how we began: Tin toy face, enchanted glass look A hearth was lit, a matchstick struck. The clacking knells and whizzing bells of my toy shop heart- Confirmation of an infatuation fated to start. Music-box laughter on cross-legged floors When our amusement left us silly-sore, Stitched up sides and wiping weeping eyes At marriage, a carriage and all it implies. Or when we grew up to be Capital-Cee Clever, Stroking our chins and humming hmmm forever Trading half-baked knowledge, taste the weight it brings Old chap, how did we enjoy such childish things? Then my cat-burglar thieving glances, Your metal...
Read more

you need this more than me

Flagpole, wrestled into Martian dirt Waves our closed-door country, built from clay-mounds of Hurt  Your hand at the door, before  gentle chorus, we weep- As is our custom, cousin, I lay my sword at your feet. Grazing each other’s wounds and licking them clean  Picking ticks from your hair Scraping skin off my teeth. Homing pigeon, tremble in my palm  I’ll pry open your ribs to breathe.  Then I’m familial, pliable, filial-   But you cared, so you can keep. And it’s strange, passing strange Both strangers in a strange country- Substitute the milk for eggs Finding what you need in me But beyond are the rogues, callous-handed thieves Lingering gazes and eyes that don’t see And from my tear-stained turret  A vision of worse places to be When you stole away to foreign shores flattery, sweet-faced novelty Gluttoned on attention and laughter You spilled your guts about me Now you darken my door with guilty glance- taking your chance  You bastard, yo...
Read more

Rudyard Lake, May 2015

The legs of the synchronised swimmers, Coming up for air simultaneously.  The steady procession of rain, Pooling in the wrinkles of our anoraks. The sliding second hand on mummy’s watch, As time sneaks imperceptibly by. But I was lost in the Victorian railway, Between rising steam and flaked candy paint. Your hand over mine, falling into step, All a model-train memory: The rain The music The air The name Your hand  Your voice- And its sadness, a frequency I was too little to tune in to. From Blogger iPhone client
Read more