Poetry

father

(First published in
MÖBIUS (USA) 2004)

a man i called father
~for a brief moment
  in my life~
smoked a clay pipe
and chewed ‘old rope’
which spittled
crackling on the
open fire
eyes grey as a
north sea storm
never settled on me
and he went to his death
without us ever touching
or meaning anything
to one another
he was just there
and he came and went
with no word of
greeting or goodbye
except for once
when his own son drowned
and i saw salt in the crevices
that seared his face
like the salt grey of his hair
and the eyes dimmed briefly
in that brushed leather face
as a single finger, coarse
and brown like a ropes end,
brushed away what might
have been a memory
or an unstoppable tear

 ‘be wary’

(First published in Corrupted Memories 2004)

  over
  imbibing
  intoxicants:
  sin is filled with the world
  and if a book’s not worth burning
  it’s not worth reading - the filled is
  the world of sin & the asterisk of identity
  is more relevant than any artful
  formerly known
  as

  and the
  mere raised asterisk
  at the side of ‘sin’
 warns us to
  “be wary;
  c h e c k e l s e w h e r e"

be a hit man

24th August 2004
(First published in In Between
 Hangovers Issue 4 2007)

i wanna be a hit man
who don’t take no shit man
i want a Kalashnikov [all polished steel]
i wanna be a hunter
not just another punter
i wanna be a fucking big wheel

i wanna make a list
when am a little bit pissed
i want Disney right at the top
and the guy who dropped the bomb
and other nazi scum
and every single mother-fucking cop

there’ll be the dumb racist freako
who murdered Brother Biko
and every single member of the BNP
there’ll be all the slimy Tories
who tell fucking lying stories
about ‘spongers’ like you and like me

i’ll make them all go to the wall
and i’ll laugh as they fall
i wont have no conscience about it
if they beg me not to kill
i’ll say you never spared Joe Hill
or the others when their faces didn’t fit

i’ll say beg you little punk
then shoot every single skunk
watch them as their trousers get filled
i’ll remind them as they die
of the blood in the eye
of the Soledad Brothers whom they killed

and i wont do this for me
but for true fraternity
a gesture to the thousands whom they slayed
for the match girls and black slaves
whom they cast into the waves
and for ever single worker they betrayed

and if we all made up a list
when we’re all a little pissed
and act upon it when we sober in the sun
we might tell the Capitalist scum
that we aint no longer dumb
and they’d better listen or they’ll listen to a gun

Fireproof Dreams

(First published in The People’s
Poet Anthology ΙΙ 2003)

today i built a bonfire
in my back yard
started it with letters
then post-cards
added photos
then all your gifts
even the guitar
which sang as
it smouldered
…and piglet
your toothbrush
black dress
panties
bathroom robe
and even the
plastic
umbilical clamp
...then i took
your 3K 'fun run'
medal
the pyramid
the black and white
mug
the crystal
and the heart
and broke them
with a hammer
...deleted every email
and photo on
my PC

i should have felt better
afterwards
having warmed
my soul
on your ashes
but in the night
in uneasy sleep
you came to me
as always
in fireproof dreams

White House Blues

(First published in
Corrupted Memories 2004)

as his contribution
to the American
 (wet) Dream
Clinton gets
his dick-licked
in the white-house
‘Read my lips’
 all over again
 and he ‘did not
 have sexual
 relationships with
 that woman’...   honest injun
  Monica!

the auction

18th July 2004
(First published in The
Ticking Crocodile 2004)

without even asking God
i sold the stars for her
sweeping them clinking
and clanking into
a sagging moon sack
i auctioned the universe
every nova and gas-cloud
and laid the profits
at her feet
all the while
looking furtively
over my shoulder
hoping to fuck that
the angels who paid for
the goods with manna
and stardust were a bit
more honourable than she
but hell i felt so powerful then
despite having sold everything
for nothing

trick-cycling

10th May 2004
First published in erbacce ‘2’ 2005

female cycles\ are tricky things\ to handle\

i tried one once\ but my girlfriend\ said it didn’t suit\

and i had to agree because\ when it came to the part\

where my balls melted\ and dripped\

out of the end of my penis\ every month\

i decided to back track\

to one with a\

  proper\

  masculine\
  cross / bar