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Renegade living, after the Vietnamese boat-boy was beaten, after motorcyclist came looking, after steel toe-capped boots and a hammer threat, after a nearly ended dad by caged bird
Forty miles from the sea he shouted about a broken car window handle, never onto manipulations or abortions
Too tight squeezes later, tax man and his vice girl with the lost dog lie
By nervous accident, same place, from a black door house, left and up the grass banking to vulgar vermin ghosts
Torquay, before I landed, drunk on Guinness, spoke with a fox hunter, Devon flatter than train’s tables
Most was etymology of the Victorian window sash - ‘thinning yellowing painted rope’, hanging thread rent
My night ceiling stayed put, about nine feet from the ground, three feet less from my flat back, there I go Young, people watching, looking at the dusts to dusts from orange seats
Once I forced out a trial on a raised pitch with a smell of dying meat
Location rapids, cold love journeyman, taxed by distant flesh of my flesh
My bike gave the terraced house loud life before months of blank Sundays
I fought the mind of a Black African girl, her chicken feet odour in my lungs, giving me chicken flavoured asthma
And I kicked all that to the end, kicked all that to the ends
Employment starting pistol whip and the Press uncovered false biography of a serial killer supermarket cleaner, he was a whiskey stealer, I knew that, he told me that
Before I pawned the jewellery, took time to see the camouflaged health centre populated with angry doctors who lost time drinking in a hole in the ground
Here now and disappearing from no one, into chemists for the weak, for four hourly pains, counting up to lost

*(Copyright is mine. Please contact me if you want to use or perform any of my poems.)

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◄ The Fall of Man

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Paul Welsh

Tue 31st Oct 2017 18:21

Thank You

sandra consolata

Mon 30th Oct 2017 20:26

I definitely like it, its nice

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