Paul Tristram- Three Poems

No One’s Innocent

But the less Bad you think and do
…the more room it leaves for Wholesomeness and Goodness.

© Paul Tristram 2015

One Man’s Pie Is Another Man’s Pasty

I used to watch him sitting on the end stool
of the bar where the payphone lives.
(Just in case she called, she’d left 15 years ago
and had since been remarried twice!)
With his poachers flat cap, greasy from use,
old tweed suit-not quite in his size-
and a different walking stick every week or so.
On account of him breaking them on the wall
on his stagger home from the pub
whilst painfully screaming the name ‘Stephanie’
loudly up to the uncaring, unjust heavens.
Then the next day sober, he’d go into the woods
by the side of the stream and cut himself another one.
He would make roll-ups out of Old Holborn
using red Rizla papers, delicately, expertly,
with a craftsman finesse which was a joy to behold.
He only came into the pub during the daytime hours
of 12 noon until 4pm and he always drank Guinness
with a shot of Tia Maria right in the top of it.
Then a single neat shot of Jameson’s whisky,
drank standing up before taking his leave of us
and he would always say the very same thing
“One man’s pie is another man’s pasty!”

© Paul Tristram 2015

Augmented Anger

From schoolyard pushing and pulling
through adolescent street corner
gang scuffling and scrapping.
Up that inevitable crooked ladder to
football hooliganism and barroom brawling.
We followed his violent trail right onto
bloody murder, destruction and carnage.
He ruined many lives along the way
without a single care or thought,
and his very own with unchecked temper.
Now he sits mournfully alone
in a life-sentenced prison cell
his life completely robbed of all reason.
Only vaguely beginning to comprehend
that he, himself is the thief responsible.
Guilt and Shame and Self-Pity
are terrible, torturous shackles
which need strength of mind and character
not brawn to sensibly escape from.
You can poke a bull with a sharp stick
but it’s the bull’s own fault
if its still smashing into steamrollers
in 30 odd years time because of it,
then deserving nobody’s understanding.
The next time you want to point fingers
of blame and accusation to justify
your selfish acts of violence,
Have the decency to stand in front of a mirror
first and punch the disgusting face you see there.

© Paul Tristram 2015



Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography 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.
 
You can read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/