Monday 14 January 2013

brand new poems...

The Faller

He stands at the edge of a tall mountain looking down the sheer drop.
Seconds pass.
The man jumps!
Nothing stops his fall.
Rocks smash his frail limbs like matchsticks.
End over end till he finally hits the valley floor 2,800ft below,
his body a bloody broken mass.
Why did he jump?
Suicide?
No.
Because he enjoys it.
He's the faller.
This jump is his 318th off this mountain.
Broken limbs, pulped body, severed head, fatal injuries and death
are an occupational hazard.
It's ok.
The destructive injuries vanish after 30minutes and
the faller is as fit as a butcher’s dog
and mad as a psychopath to jump again.
Witness a freak: the faller.

Lancaster Lady

You remind me of the pretty young ladies who used to make Lancaster’s at Avro’s.
They always smiled.
Even though half of their magnificent aeroplanes fell in flames over Germany.
Tens of thousand of aircrew lost.
Many aircrew had sweethearts building their Lancs.
Their smiles died forever when war stole them.
I know you aren't such a lady, are you?
Or are you my dear lady?
We work in a bakery making cakes.
I’d love to see you smile.
Your prettiness would illuminate my night sky
and I’d always safely return home to you my dear lady.
Are you the lady who built my Lancaster?
You’re forever my English rose.
Your beauty will never fade nor your light ever dim.
Let’s go to a real English pub together.
Just us my dear lady.


Panda Party

It's 16.40 and we sit in my armour plated Fiat Panda car
under the ground drinking beer and partying.
What joy.
The stereo plays old music tapes of Goth, metal and 80s tunes.
We've lots of beer and pizza to consume.
Two pretty gals have joined us for a laugh.
One sucks my dick and groans in delight.
I open a new beer and lean back in the passenger seat.
My mate is in the back with a brunette.
Quietly they fuck.
I glance over and smile.
That's how to do it.
My bullet proof car is party central.
No longer a driveable vehicle,
a unique underground venue for getting it on.
Hell! I'm coming.
Nearly time for a shag.
Then more ale and swapping partners.
Party all night till 06.00 when we sleep.
Bring it on!

Memory Hole

Fall into my memory hole
and get lost in the stars.
We glide in the ether
becoming a permanent element.
Noble gas born out of nothing,
forming fire and making
something.
Becoming star children.
Memories of stars.

Sacred Dream

You can’t steal my dream.
You can take everything I’ve got
but you can’t steal my dream.
I keep this dream alive thru the years.
It belongs to me, me alone.
Material things are a false God,
not for me.
My dream is my path.
My path my dream.
You can take all my stuff but never my dream.
Not ever.
My sacred dream.

Dandom Randomness

What else will I see out of my story?
I’ve seen a guy blown away.
Where’s my guinea pig?
In the boarded up pub in the fog.
Your film is yesterday,
full of sex and violence.
One foot man no boot.
It’s dark when the flash blubs go out.
Fuck brutality embrace toe kissing.
I’ve no time for four false Gods.
You gotta be real.
We worship one another.
You photograph roundabouts,
I snap lampposts.
Mailbox in desert.
No, there are eight.
Blonds are so yesterday.
For the price of the wind.
You’re so paranoid.
Have you thought it’s the company you keep?
Point course correction to where?
Ninjas in the dustbin lorries.






No comments:

Post a Comment