did I ever say I was “good people”?

did I ever say I was “good people”?

some days I miss the hasty shouting

the crack of fist on salted cheekbones


better that than the nauseous choice

of considered upholstery or designer phones

never weather appropriate, rather, accident


ripped and bleeding, waiting for some other

and days my head will fill with men of war

always in shock yet mostly in awe


as old words rattle inside my skull

brass cased

cheap beer, cheap vodka, cheap meat, cheap life


it’s so much easier to smile once

your shit has sailed, once your dream has failed

and there’s nothing left to prove


free to crawl amongst the humming, cumming, fauna

rolling amongst the underwear, lying dead, in the street

where the bus route and late doors chip shop meet


stretching every buttonfly in my drive through jeans

for her, stern and sweatless as a celluloid queen,

teasing nonsense thoughts stowed under my be


where ten percent of the two breathed criminal intent

always made it seem like everybody else in the world

was getting it, apart from me, whatever it might have been


the caffeine and preservatives served me ill

and now the air is clear enough to hear

an echo of those angina beats


the rhythm of compressed time

where mild maturity becomes entwined

in curious calamity,


cut down, boxed up,

for all to see the choke hold slip the sterling buckle

with teeth around your stubbled throat


and nylon strained constricted waste

belies a filthy lack of alibi

for guilty biology draws the crimes and rhymes through dangerous times




though this winter sketch of pallid raiments,

the stretched sad sack of retiring flesh,

erases the lines of entry through sharp regret


and in doubt of the wealth of its worth

now points me towards a more formal light

the scratched windows of differing sight


that vie for attention in the bottle smashed remains

of this salt dried blink

too long is never too long to wait for beauty


though, while riding as untrained participant,

your mind may break with the horse

as the ground reddening around the space


it’s crown once filled forces a remembered, gory,

glory spilled between your lovers sheets

but I’ve exceeded my quota of homicidal tropes, those

hopes of long abandoned reason



agingdespairlonginglossself destruction

◄ where there are fish you will often find bicycles (in six days god did what?)

Free Poetry Book ►


Patricia and Stefan Wilde

Tue 24th Dec 2013 20:52

Absolutely fantaz Paul.All the best from us.xx

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Mon 23rd Dec 2013 09:53

Wow indeed! There's so much to think about and like in this - though I'm talking poetry/ideas not life circumstances.

'it’s so much easier to smile once
your shit has sailed, once your dream has failed
and there’s nothing left to prove'

This idea stood out for me - the fact that we can almost be released in some way by absolute failure - released from the effort and the pressure of continued expectation maybe.

Rose Casserley

Sun 22nd Dec 2013 22:50

Paul,this rocks!sooooo cool! and just love the 'so... ending-
-magic touch!
now I HAVE been WOWED!x

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