these days
Home sweet home Latest site info Poetic stuff Serious stuff Funny stuff Topical stuff Alternative stuff Shakespearian stuff Musical stuff
  click here for a "printer friendly" version

by Paul Tristram



Time To Rhythm Up!


I’m known for a lot of things,

being a ‘Man Of Patience’

is not amongst them.

Dawdling about the place

waiting for ‘Fate’, ‘Destiny’,

and ‘The Universe’ to kick-in

is not my style,

seeking help from other people

not my way,

and anything but straight off

the deep end

is not my cup of tea at all.

I’m my very own

pinball spring-loaded plunger,

I course the day

at break-neck speed.

It’s all Energy and Magic…

or what’s the point

in even bothering?

Ebb and Flow,

increasing and decreasing



Emotional Landslides,

you have to Create Disaster

to come back from it… Brighter.

You cannot Lose

what’s already been Spent,

and there ain’t no Failing

until you have giving up Trying.




a line, (a short blue one)



Barefoot on Nettle


Dark thorn, along

a cloudy-pathway…

twists, and turns,

and tangles.

Each footstep

takes you further in,

yet, brings you closer

to eventual Exit.

I sense Rats

behind certain smiles

… let’s avoid those.

The Butterfly

rapidly becomes

the Wasp…

but, never vice versa.

The North Star

is your Intuition…

ignore It

at your own peril.

There’s no shame

in asking for help…

but, if braved alone

your Soul

burns forever stronger.




a line, (a short blue one)



Champion Scrapes


Nah, you’re too ‘Hesitant’

you’re gonna fall-flat

onto your worrying face

… I can see your lips

mouthing ‘Geronimo’

right before you Ledge

falter… back to safety

… me? oh, I’m already

foot-paddling the Air

before it’s out me mouth.

‘Luck’ and ‘Skill’

don’t come into their own

… without a little bit

of ‘Swagger’ & ‘Danger’.

I shouldn’t preach really

… it’s your ‘Life’, innit.

‘Drive Safely’, sunshine

… ‘Keep Off The Grass’,

‘Don’t Talk To Strangers’

‘Early To Bed’… boring!

When I ‘Die’, yeah…

do me a fucking favour

and stay far away from

my [well-earned] Funeral

… I don’t want your

‘Correct and Proper’…

‘Contaminating’ my Exit.




a line, (a short blue one)



… All Filth, And Pirate Breath


The Shadows are far more Dense…

around You.

Do you hear that? Don’t smile,

there it is again…

a creaking noise in the next room,

except there is no ‘Next Room’

on this occasion, we’re outdoors.

Your dog, clever though she is,

snaps and growls at invisible things,

and is suspicious of corners?

The ‘Ones Who Stand Behind The Veil’

manoeuvre closely in your proximity.

My aura is light and orange…

yours changes colour like a firework,

and has an Old Spiced syrupiness to it.

You are unfathomable, 

and when asked to explain,

which you practically never do,

everything that you say

just makes me more exasperated.

It’s like you’re from another Time,

both Past and Future…

and when I stare into your feline eyes,

I get this really strange feeling

that I must have known you… Forever.




a line, (a short blue one)



New Chaos


It erupts around you like minefields exploding.

Bloodshot eyes focusing

upon one neutron bomb catastrophe after another.

The ‘Domino Effect’ on amphetamine.

The dark & twisted skies alive with murder & mayhem.

And you grin at your new Masterpiece…

as the demented energy & neurotic adrenalin

sends you skidding head-first into the fray.

The meek & cowardly can keep their beige & mundane…

I’ll be cliff-leaping into insane volcanos

with LSD crazed tiger claws around my defiant throat

right up until the last Battle Cry Breath.

Life was not made to be lived safely…

it’s a test, an assault course to be bettered,

fought through and won.

To belly laugh like a maniac in the midst of the havoc,

almost drown in your own vomit & bleeding…

then, once again,

rise up shining like the blinding light of the Winter Sun.




a line, (a short blue one)





The ‘Batterings’ which life threw upon her Soul

during the first half of her tumultuous existence,

have made her practically clairvoyant.

She now sees clearly and with instant premonition,

her own circular-patterns, the masks of others,

both the insincere and the good of heart…

as distinctly as peering in through a window pane.

She pauses, within herself, often…

it’s not fear, nor hesitation exactly,

but, rather a ‘Feeling Out’ a ‘Sensing’ underneath.

Familiar with most Lures, Tricks and Traps,

she walks a far less dangerous and crooked road now.

The ‘Correct People’ around the Hearth of your Heart

is the Key to avoiding mental and emotional assassination.

Keeping Bitterness at bay, never giving in to Hatred

and refusing to see anything but the Truth,

undiluted or distorted, by rose-tinted spectacles,

is both her way of staying sane and progressing un-blindly

through the haphazard maze and battlefield of each new day.



a line, (a blue one)


Rate this poetry.

Copyright is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce any part of this article without consent.


© Winamop 2022