Let Me Lead You Into A War Dance
The back of my head faces you,
as I spring forward
with the pride of a lion.
Arm sinews taut
as employed bow strings.
Forehead a jackhammer working
the gravity that surrounds it.
Feet stamping defiance
into the frowning earth.
Throat and lungs screaming
out the barbarian
which has lain dormant,
in the gene that my forefather’s
sent travelling through time
until now.
Within my skin of wrath
I wait not for any of you,
the area behind me
is now your concern.
© Paul Tristram 2008
Published in Decanto, 33rd Issue, February 2008
Cramp Tight
Cramp tight
like juvenile delinquency
when 10 o’clock at night
comes around.
Like mongrel dogs
with bellies full of chicken bones,
shitting and spitting frustration
in unknown alphabetical terms.
While tramps kiss wine bottles,
eyes closed,
emulating long, dead love.
And weathercocks amphetaminely spin
until pointing to the eight of swords.
I sit within a tavern
in Falmouth
counting my pocket change
and hoping for a penny
more.
© Paul Tristram 2005
Published in Pulsar, Edition 43, August 2005
They Prescribed Them Valium
It was the late 1970’s
the waiting room was full and oppressive,
with weak hearts and fragile minds.
A gathering of single mothers
eagerly waiting for the cure
to that which ate at them all
but again there was no cure,
they did this to themselves.
Unlike their mothers and grandmothers
they had time to be neurotic,
to complain about the obvious
and dislike their own inventions.
It was the late 1970’s
and after 6 long months
at the end of this assembly line
of irritating placebo seekers
you would have prescribed them valium too.
© Paul Tristram 2006
Published in Sarasvati, Issue 22, May/June, 2012
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
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