Chicory and DDT

I spent yesterday wanting to write a poem
Instigated by some of the many
Things I’ve watched you throw away.

I found my chicory coffee
At the back of the cupboard
But it tasted of bugs
And DDT
It raised thoughts of you
Hating the daylight
Disgusted with yourself
Scuttling in the dark
Caught on the epee’s brittle point
Her fatally accurate wit
Her temper a blunt force assault.

Natalia – raging happily as is her wont
Screaming about the pictures of your mammaries
You gave away, so recently
To a “nice boy from Bristol”
Who carried a 7 inch flick
With a badly rusted blade

You, finally escaping capture
Split the scene
Sitting on some dirty local bus
Heading out of the shallow bright city
To be found in the desert later
Miraculously brought back from your little death
As ever, ignoring your individuality
Dismissing me, and yourself
From the deep beige blandness
You have decided to make your wallow

I check my watch and climb the stairs
Irrelevant thoughts like ghosts
Drift behind me in the heat
Prolonged inaction putting the lie
To my central detached stance
And I watch you wander in
And strike the bell
For the Priest in the mountains
Saying mass and baptising monstrosities

Don’t you think you could
at least try
to give the appearance of caring?

·

This poem was written utilising material pilfered from the Surrealist Compliment Generator – one of my very favourite sites on the worldwide interweb. Go and take a squizz – it’s good for what ails you – or ales you as the case may be…

September, 2009

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6 Responses to “Chicory and DDT”

  1. jvonbargen Says:

    Always loved this. Delightfully schizo!

    • I remember I amused byself with this passage:

      the Priest in the mountains
      Saying mass and baptising monstrosities

      :))

      Send anti-psychotiics… do NOT send psychotics!

  2. Christina Carson Says:

    Welcome aboard. Any friend of Jo’s is a friend of mine, though I can see if I pissed you off, I could be in trouble. Just kidding…

    • I’m hard to rile Christina – and at worst – there’d be a sarcastic poem involved… :))

      • Christina Carson Says:

        I sensed that – what good fun. I spent half my life in Canada where sarcasm is an art form. This culture here tends to take itself rather seriously. I look forward to your work, Phillip. I don’t laugh nearly enough.

        • I wonder when America lost its sense of humour… not Americans – but the TV and movies – woeful on the whole and what’s not woeful is wriiten by outsiders. It’s damned tragic really.

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