SPLASHBACKS

In shocking terms there

wasn’t much to say, poor

vagrant lying on the subway

line, cider bottle still in grubby

hands. No clue about his NOK

Off came his gear, cut off with

the surgical scissors at the

local morgue. Nobody knew

so nobody mourned him gone,

some even felt it ‘just as

well’, I mean that vinegary

smell can hang around too

long. Pong, pong, pong

The rail crew and the sorry

driver on the subway train

will always sense their inner

pain – I was there, I took a

life – i cannot speak of it when

I get home, at least not to my

neighbours, family or wife.

I think I’ll nip out to the pub.

The guys, they’ll understand

my pain – can’t tell them yet.

Mustn’t let them see my HEEL

The ACHILLES one that is. Time

for getting home again – can’t

chase away those demon

thoughts of course, they just

get worse that cortege and

the hearse – Gee that train is

late, think I’ll have a tinkle

while I wait on platform four

Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

◄ RANT

YOLKS ►

Comments

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Don Matthews

Sun 28th Jul 2019 03:45

Philipos you share a
Touch of me in this
You write serious and misery
And end it with a piss

Aghhhhhhhhhhhh

The 'share' that I am talking 'bout's
Neu-tralling pain with humour
It's very good at doing this
Helps as a pain remover

Aghhhhhhhhhhhh

On the poem itself, to me, it was excellent. You created different (but connected) scenes for me to jump to. Well done..

I would however dispute the spelling of Aghhhhhhhhh. To me it is missing an 'r'.

Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?

And maybe a few more 'h's. Oh, I see. This would make the verse visually unbalanced. Less would reduce his satisfaction.....

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