slanderhour

The jolt that comes to bones

is what the painter considers

self into story. There is

comes as he shuts his eyes

what he imagines—a lightning

the shoulder. He imagines the

with ceiling fans or the

a jolt riding from his

blades to his eyelids,

coaster clacks to his

Kahlo. Here, he says, let me

table linen, let my bones be

making, again, that clack. My

set properly, I have class

it to chew over class, his

a reader sips (perhaps) a

books spines, we break them.

its legs, its head. The body

a stomach? Is it simply there

without its own, like a

What is the poet without eyes

a platform—a place to set,

all, what will he do when the

rises from the poet’s head,

into the city? Covered with a

something to spill, perhaps a

her ankle in a street-

car.

I took my life and threw it on the skip,
Reckoning the next-door neighbours wouldn’t mind
If my life hitched a lift to the council tip
With their dry rot and rubble. What you find

With skips is – the whole community joins in.
Old mattresses appear, doors kind of drift
Along with all that won’t fit in the bin
And what the bin-men can’t be fished to shift.

I threw away my life, and there it lay
And grew quite sodden. `What a dreadful shame,’
Clucked some old bag and sucked her teeth: ‘The way
The young these days … no values … me, I blame…’

But I blamed no one. Quality control
Had loused it up, and that was that.
‘Nough said. I couldn’t stick at home. I took a stroll
And passed the skip, and left my life for dead.

Without my life, the beer was just as foul,
The landlord still as filthy as his wife,
The chicken in the basket was an owl,
And no one said: `Ee, Jim-lad, whur’s thee life?’

Well, I got back that night the worse for wear,
But still just capable of single vision ;
Looked in the skip; my life – it wasn’t there!
Some bugger’d nicked it – without my permission.

Okay, so I got angry and began
To shout, and woke the street. Okay. Okay!
And I was sick all down the neighbour’s van.
And I disgraced myself on the par-kay.

And then … you know how if you’ve had a few
You’ll wake at dawn, all healthy, like sea breezes,
Raring to go, and thinking: `Clever you!
You’ve got away with it.’ And then, oh Jesus,

It hits you. Well, that morning, just at six
I woke, got up and looked down at the skip.
There lay my life, still sodden, on the bricks;
There lay my poor old life, arse over tip.

Or was it mine? Still dressed, I went downstairs
And took a long cool look. The truth was dawning.
Someone had just exchanged my life for theirs.
Poor fool, I thought – I should have left a warning.

Some bastard saw my life and thought it nicer
Than what he had. Yet what he’d had seemed fine.
He’d never caught his fingers in the slicer
The way I’d managed in that life of mine.

His life lay glistening in the rain, neglected,
Yet still a decent, an authentic life.
Some people I can think of, I reflected
Would take that thing as soon as you’d say Knife.

It seemed a shame to miss a chance like that.
I brought the life in, dried it by the stove.
It looked so fetching, stretched out on the mat.
I tried it on. It fitted, like a glove.

And now, when some local bat drops off the twig
And new folk take the house, and pull up floors
And knock down walls and hire some kind of big
Container (say, a skip) for their old doors,

I’ll watch it like a hawk, and every day
I’ll make at least – oh – half a dozen trips.
I’ve furnished an existence in that way.
You’d not believe the things you find on skips

Breaktime, I'll write something for you

Earlestown is named after Sir Hardman Earle (11 July 1792 – 25 January 1877) a slave owner whose family was steeped in the slave trade. He was the Chairman of the London and North Western Railway.

Earlestown Town Hall is an imposing building, fronted by a war memorial. In 1962 the Beatles  visited Earlestown for a night gig and played at the town hall. On the  same night Newton Boys Club on Graffton Street was opened by Frankie  Vaughan for the local community.[6]

Another significant building included the art-deco former Curzon cinema which was demolished in January 2010.

Earlestown has a small but busy town centre with many shops including high-street outlets such as Tesco, Boots, Wilko and several high street banks alongside independent retailers,  bookmakers and fast-food takeaways. There are a range of traditional  pubs, such as The New Market, The Ram's Head, The Railway Inn, The  Griffin, and The Wellington. Earlestown is well served by many fast food outlets offering a good range of Indian and Chinese dishes as well as fish and chips and the ubiquitous McDonald's.  Most of the local restaurants are curry houses; Earlestown's 'curry  quarter-of-a-mile' on Queen Street has three Indian restaurants and a  Tandoori take-away.

How little it takes to stain the character.

When first I came down Yorkshire,

Oh treat me daughter decent,

And all the little chickens in the garden

Oh treat me daughter decent,

And all the little chickens in the garden

Oh treat me daughter decent,

And all the little chickens in the garden.

the clearing was large enough to fit about twelve of your Lion King themed picnic blankets without coming close to the forest’s edge. I thought about bringing you out there and telling you that and then I remembered that you got rid of  the blanket 2 months ago when your new boyfriend said that Lion King was overrated and the blanket had too many  holes in it. I would never have the guts to tell you this in person but maybe someday you’ll come across this poem and know that if you  ever want to spread out 12  new  Lion King  themed picnic blankets in a clearing I will be there with chicken salad sandwiches and 6 of those pineapple cinnamon ciders you love.

My brother,

My brother,

He understands,

He’s one of those guys,

Always determined,

My brother,

Oh Venerable Zeus, grant Persephone’s petition to retain Adonis!

A day in Afghanistan is like a week at home.

Ross Kemp