Another six poems
by Paul Tristram

 

Beerhead

 

I will not give you roses blood red.

I may not even make it home to bed.

I forget half the things that I’ve said.

I guess I’m just a drunken Beerhead!

Yee-Ahh!

 

 

 

Civilized Fear

 

Keep all of those doors and windows locked

whatever you do, you must never go out alone.

When the daytime starts turning to night time

you must always hurry straight to your home.

Absolutely no one really feels safe anymore

the crime rate has exploded through the roof.

There are muggers, rapists and street gangs

waiting to destroy you with claw and tooth.

You can go to prison for protecting yourself

or go to the grave if you will not fight back.

This society has simply gone too far astray

it will probably never get right back on track.

Keep your daughters and sisters hidden away

fill your wife’s handbag with violent tools.

For you can never be too safe or too careful

for nowadays optimism is only used by fools.

We all still practice the laws of the jungle

even though we live in a civilized community.

We are meant to be intelligent human beings

yet we still practice so much violent insanity.

Terrified eyes meet me in the streets each day

while safer, happier times are far from near.

Daily new babies are born into this mad world

to grow up hand in hand with civilized fear.

 

 

 

Claustrophobia

 

With a grizzly bear hug

I’ll not let you go.

Reach over make a joint

set light to your blow.

I’ll hold you so close

I’ll hold you so near.

You can hold my bottle

while I drink my beer.

I’ll brush your teeth

you can comb my hair.

Wherever you go

I’ll always be there.

 

 

 

Silken Cigarette Smoke

 

I watch the silken cigarette smoke

go gliding up through this here room.

Dancing upwards, towards the ceiling

invading all of the shadowed gloom.

Amazing beautiful swirling spirals

wonderful man made grey, silken mists.

Floating clouds of smoky cobwebs

changing shape, just watch them twist.

Twirling all around the lampshade

set free from their cigarette tombs.

They will glide and play together

until floating right out of the room.

 

 

 

The Bar Is Nearly Open

 

Isn’t life so very crazy?

reality is a wrecking ball.

The hourglass is broken

time has taken a fall.

Morals to the wind

to Hell with convention.

decadence is the only thing

which grabs at my attention.

The man in the moon has quit

he has moved to the sun.

It is a little bit hotter

but that is half the fun.

All governments are insane

mad men rule the roost.

And I’m not the only one

who’s been mentally goosed.

I have taken up religion

and thrown it in the lake.

Rubbished Darwin’s theories

without a single fag-break.

A fortune teller told me

that marriage would be mine.

It only cost a tenner

for her to waste my time.

My chest it imploded

the day you broke my heart.

So I swallowed laxatives

exploding the other half.

Disco’s are fantastic

if you perfect a cheesy grin.

But strip clubs are better

if you only want to sin.

Traffic wardens are fools

Car park attendants too.

But the public must find something

for imbeciles to do.

I am a born again lesbian

I think of naked girls all day.

If writing was my living

I would be unemployed today.

But I have good news for most

something to make you smile.

as your brain unhappily

travels another weary mile.

 

 

The bar is nearly open

and the first drinks are free.

So when you’ve finished this

that is where I shall be.

 

 

 

Top Hat Fever (Megalomania)

 

The pavement’s my platform

I stroll it with ease.

A one man religion

upon my poetic knees.

I sigh only at beauty

I cry only out loud.

A streetlight, spotlight magnet

I devour the crowd.

 

I answer to only my reflection

the masses bore me to the core.

I entertain myself freely

debauchery’s a servant at my door.

I hunger for absolutely nothing

I seek out only admiring stares.

Across a red carpet of knowledge

I shake off the common cares.

 

I want it back a hundred fold

if I grace you with a smile.

When I walk under sun or moon

they should crash into roof tiles.

Charm and greatness are natural

I yawn them each morning I rise.

Would you like to see true love?

well, take a look into my eyes.

 

I’ve got that top hat fever

feeling eccentric and strange.

I traded in my depression

for over happiness and change.

I move like an actor

I speak with solid perfection.

Wrapped in my peacock glory

I am artistic correction.

 

Rate this poetry.

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