From Winamop.com

Six Poems by Paul Tristram.


 

Out With The New / In With The Old

 

I had a friend come over to stay

he slept downstairs on my settie.

He tried not to disturb anything

but ended up simply annoying me.

I just grew more and more agitated

I felt like my hiding place was gone.

Even though he wasn’t doing anything

he was just trying to get along.

It only lasted for a couple of days

but those days were long and hard.

I shall sometimes have visitors

but sleepovers are forever barred.

 

 

a short black line

 

Cardboard Cutout

 

In a room full of many people

They are all eager to join in.

With stupid topics of conversation

Long gone is my initial grin.

No meaning behind the words

Just a pathetic frontal painting.

As I watch through dying eyes

My soul slips into gyrating.

My heart is turning to sand

My whole life passes before me.

The slowness of the wall clock

Simply will not free me.

They laugh, praise and patronize

I spoil it with my silent cancer.

To them I’m a cardboard cutout

To me they’re a hermit enhancer.

 

 

a short black line

 

Out Of Place

 

As Out Of Place

as a naked elbow in a storm.

As Out Of Place

as a snowflake in the warm.

As Out Of Place

as a hermit busking in town.

As Out Of Place

as an introvert dressed as a clown.

As Out Of Place

as a fork mixed with the spoons.

I Am Out Of Place

with everything outside this room.

 

 

a short black line

 

It’s Definitely Yellow

 

It’s definitely yellow

it’s starting to heal.

The darkness is fading

it’s returning to real.

 

It’s definitely yellow

the pain’s almost gone.

It tingles slightly

it’s getting strong.

 

It’s definitely yellow

it’s now nearly time.

To seek my vengeance

take back what’s mine.

 

 

a short black line

 

Paranoia

 

The dust has settled

Down upon this town.

The people are silent,

Lips make no sound.

Misty streets, full of

Black leaved trees.

The gutter’s reached the rooftops

With filth and sleaze.

 

Paranoid disturbed eyes

Search through the crowd.

Everyone seems afraid

To breathe out loud.

Greeting people you pass

With not a smile but a frown.

Walking past them quickly

With your head held down.

 

Which people like you?

And which ones don’t?

Which ones will attack you?

And which ones won’t?

Too scared to go out

Too frightened to stay in.

Is that the dustman outside?

Or is someone going through my bin?

 

Something has changed!

Everything is drastically wrong.

It’s impossible to find anyone

To whom you can belong.

What was once called love

Has now been turned into hate.

A painful end is certain

And there’s not long to wait.

 

 

a short black line

 

Remember Reality

 

Being brought back to normality

Would definitely break my heart.

A life of constant sobriety

Would certainly tear me apart.

I need to distance myself

From the pressure and the pain.

That is why I travel far and wide.

From reality again and again.

 

It does not solve my problems

Oblivion has no answers to be found.

But it numbs the rawness of life

So that is where I am again bound.

I shall stay as long as I can

Then buy another liquid ticket.

I need these times from reality

Without them I could not stick it.

 

Escapism is necessary

When you cannot afford change.

Reality is such a bitch

When your heart is in chains.

Blissful safe forgetfulness

Is the cave to which I crawl.

The drunken womb of the wounded

It surrounds me like a wall.

 

Do you remember reality

After all it is not that far away?

It could come back to us tomorrow

If we do not once again get our way.

 


a black line

More poetry from Winamop

Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.