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Friday 14 June 2019

Some more poems from my pen (and mind/heart) 14/6/2019


Oblivion Oblongata

Someone shat on my shoe and made me walk a mile down the main street in town with stinky feet and a growing brown patch. It escalated into a full-blown fight with a parking meter, a by-standing whiskey barrel joined in, bashed me around the head and got me punch drunk, as state I most definitely didn’t need.

Eros killed with arrows
made people lose
their fucking heads
stopped common sense,
the ruling classes of Bovver Boys
and eye wart cream
ruining love poems
as if they flippin’ well deserve it.

Miracle of miracles, she (Dado) walked into St Stephens to hide from my rabid stare. She thought I was stalking her. Sure, she’s a fucken hottie, man, best bit of hot ass in town, and she gives me the time of day by avoiding me. I daren’t walk into a church, she knows that, no not because I’m the Antichrist reincarnated, more the fact I’m wary of what the Almighty will do if I disgraced his company premises.

The fuzz cruised past,
the geeky chic
in the passenger
waves a gun in my face
her position of power,
I flick her the bird
emotively jam a finger
up my arse and lick it
just so as she knows
I ain’t scared of the scum,
Dado comes out,
a half mile down,
I debate with myself
(yes I’m capable)
turn from her path
and think about going
down the Mile Road
smashing letterboxes.

It’s Saturday, lost five days there, the last thing I remember is running into Scatty down the Mile, and being passed a P-laced joint. I have some vague recollection of a party, with evil drugs and booze and more of each. For days on end I was literally freaking out. Oh, yeah, the red Mitsi across the road, what a mean fireworks that was. Oh, yeah, well all fucked off when the scum turned up, each running to our own directions and habitats. I now hide in the squat, shit everywhere, rats crawling around the room, biting anything that stinks of food.

Hi, I’m Erroneous Rat,
I live with this fucking sick
excuse for a human being,
he’s in serious need of help,
if he don’t get off the drugs
and booze soon
someone will die.
This is a plea from King Rat
to the human race.

The rope slipped easily over the banister, the noose ready for a plunge into insanity. The voices in his head were all yammering, asking to be shut up.  The drug induced psychosis just prayed for play. He stood on the chair, the noose ready, no note, no one cared, and with a swift kick, …………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Post Mortem
There was none, the rats found the rope too tempting.



*************************************************************88


Did you Hear the News Today?

An article about Iraq
how the war is being won,
who by I ask, what war?
What have I missed
these past five decades.

I remember Viet Nam
that war was won too
but who by?
The name escapes me now
I still have my anti-Vietnam badge.

I see the streets of downtown Los Angeles
littered with graffiti and tags
the sign some youth
will fight for their neighbourhood
and not their country.

I heard the news today,
a lady in Alabama choked
by her endearing boa constrictor
the snake escaped and according to police
is making a dash for the Amazon jungle.

I also saw on the nightly wrap
some scientist has discovered a gene
that holds mentally ill families to account
passed from mother or father
self-medication a key, drugs or alcohol.

I spent a minute listening to the radio
a newsflash, major car accident up north
police reluctant to say how many.
How many, I hear you ask, is Iraq?
How many are the graves of absolution?

This afternoon I got caught by a newsflash
Obama and Hillary both triumphing
the return of the forgotten soldiers,
peace in Iraq a distinct possibility
without an American or British army to target.

Did you hear on the news today,
I was carted off to prison for stating
truth and untruth, lies and deception
their eyes shadowed by treason
their assertions woolly and light.


The Ribbonwood Lane Reprise

Down Ribbonwood Lane, the ladies did stray
the children and buses on their way
the cloudless sky joins the fray
the days when love abounds.

Down Ribbonwood Lane the Jesuits do ply,
their daily trade as cars whizz by,
parishioners set to live and die
days when life resounds.

Down Ribbonwood Lane the cattle do chew
pastures of chaff and Ribbonwood stew,
the children just don’t know what to do,
days when longing is bound.

Down Ribbonwood Lane the cars drive past,
the longer the laughter the bigger the blast,
the food at McDonalds exorbitantly fast,
days when rogues are found.

Down Ribbonwood Lane the cycle of life
the lonely vagabond causing strife
a butcher waves his cutting knife
days when ladies are profound.

Down Ribbonwood Lane a painting is born
the hunter puffs on his hunting horn,
the lost children all forlorn
days when babies compound.

Down Ribbonwood Lane the skies are black
the welcome sign says welcome back,
the herding chains sag so slack,
days when basketballs rebound.

Down Ribbonwood Lane the lights shine bright,
such is the feeling deep in the night,
the cars turn left, then right,
days when night sounds.



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