Greetings, bonour, what’s happening?
Welcome to Lager Time.
I’m a bit rough this week, you know the coo: sore throat, cough, headache, tax return. Could be worse.
Three new poems this week. Couple of cynical ones with a lighthearted one to finish. All poems below
On the large-ups, here’s a link to Dan Cockerill’s site when you can buy his books. He’s who inspired me to do it myself. HIs most recent is Democratic Pirate Ship, it’s very good.
https://www.danielcockrill.com/shop
Catch me live at Poetry & Poppadums 27th March - at Karamel, Wood Green London FEAT - Murray Lachlan Young, Skye Lilly, me and ho sted by Paul Lyalls
If you’re intersted in me coming to do a gig, run a workshop, get in touch.
That’s it for now
Have a banging weekend
Paul
TWO TEAMS
Two teams are huddled together on the grass, as
three boys stand on the sideline
both teams are screaming at these kids to
pick a side
up until this point, the sides
picked themselves
two kids pick, leaving the last one left to choose
he looks at them both
this kid knows that both teams have
wankers in their ranks, loud-mouth
pricks he would rather avoid
he also knows that either side would
accuse the other of harbouring
dick heads, yet will deny, or try to justify the
existence of their own
this kid also knows that both teams can
play and both have players who can
pick a pass, time a tackle, finish in the
box, split a defence, keep their cool and hold
the line under attack
he knows they also have a
couple of hotheads
they both play a different way, of which there
are merit to both, he thinks
decision time
they’re still screaming at him to pick, but
he realises that this is the only time he’s ever
wanted by these lot
neither are interested in what he has to
offer, they just want him to make up the numbers
he knows they’ll both deny this so he tells them to
do one and looks for another game, because
there’s aint the only one being
played, despite what they
think
Prairie Oysters
show me something for the heart
something for the soul
I’m tired of the claims and
the feel-good messaging
snake oil supplements, organic, free-range and expensive
it seems the supposed betters among us have it figured
self-care routines; long baths and little
books of wisdom
loving the living and the laughing
they got the pieces on the board but are
they just pretending to play?
I don’t know how to play
I’m scared to play and
their type of talk makes me want
to run away and drown in lager and
keebabs
I know where that one goes, hence
the original question, nothing
seems to do it
I’m going to fast to slow down
too angry to relax
too cynical to mediate
too sprung too unwind
too skint to change my diet
trudging through life with
brain fluid close to boiling
belly corrosive too touch
feet fearful of standing still
fists full of theory but lacking the
minerals for fury
where’s that sweet salvation
they all speak of
or is it all just prairie ousters
lacking bollox?
PLUMSTEAD CABARET
Got down to the
Platform at
Plumstead
London Bridge
Bound
Eight minute
Wait
Reached for the
Blower
Stopped
Decided I
Wouldn’t
This time
It’s just too
easy
Instead, I
I went eyes
Left
to the
Steep bank
Flats towering
Over
I spied this squirrel
Darting in and out
The weeds and
Trees
Watched
Those
Little human-
Like hands
Picking at
Bits of food
With the
Erratic
Urgency
Of someone
Desperate to
Get out the
Office on a
Friday
It scrabbled down to
The platform
All nimble
feet
Looks at me
Then scarpers
Behind the
Waiting
Area
I was just thinking
To myself how I
Enjoyed that
Moment
When
it
Reappeared
with a
Second
Squirrel
They chased
Each other in
Front of me
Tussled a bit
Till the other
Darted
It was like an
Unexpected encore
After a surprisingly
enjoyable
show
Almost
Forgot
About
The
Twitch
From the
Pocket
Distractor
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