Persia

 

 

            (eighteen years ago).

 

            Three square a day they say,

At home they’re full

While tags that tickle painfully

Request the Anusol.

 

     Breakfast biscuits –

Peanut butter, Tabasco sauce

For lunch, the bags went up

The hills today for tiny infants

     Tums.

 

            Breakout the dioralyte,

Retain your body salts,

I’m sweating flies and

Diarrhoea, a stand too or two,

     A QRF

            A tracer sent,

Months of desert refugees,

Appalling Persian flu.

 

(The present day)

 

            My mind,

My fragile cerebral mass,

It races like a turbo charge,

An electric spark of light,

     Yet thoughts I cannot catch

Like chasing roads in racing cars the horizon never lent,

Brings faster, faster, faster still –

Paranoia intense.

 

            (Out of reach)

 

            Sipping darkly dreamed sublime

A wine of water on the lips,

A feast a force of fortitude,

Killing dictatorships.

     How gallanted a tummy trenched

By nothing but a kiss,

A kiss from air wet with led

A phosphor fleshing hiss,

 

            A hunger in a tent,

            A hunger in a tent,

            A hunger in a tent.

 

            Bring rations fast,

Boast a busted gut,

Let my brain relax,

For when in states of hunger..................................

 

            (Next year)

 

???

 

Michael J Waite.