Paul Tristram- Three Poems

I Hated You Once

You couldn’t sit in a bar
everyone wanted to kill you.
You owed no one nothing
but still you were despised.

Now, look at you.
You elbow the dancer
from her pole
as you head for the Gents
as straight as the crow flies.
wrack up four lines
of expensive,
snort the largest,
cover the rest
with toilet roll (one sheet)
and leave.
Confident in yourself
that those who come behind you
are behind you.
Dear of you.

© Paul Tristram 2007

Published in In Between Hangovers, Issue #6, May / June 2007

Teabags, Biscuits And Sugar

She twated him
with her umbrella,
kicked, punched and screamed.
The crowd gathered,
a bloke who looked
like a farmer
booted him in the small
of the back
sending him curling
around a concrete plant pot
where he was kicked
skidding
into the next plant pot.
“What has he done?”
asked an old man
with a Tesco carrier bag
of teabags, biscuits and sugar.
“He said he wasn’t good enough
for this young girl!”
yelled a mother
of at least four.
“I wish I had a knife,
I’d cut his fucking feet off!”
shouted a grandmother.
The old man walked away
with his Tesco carrier bag
of teabags, biscuits and sugar,
shaking his head in disbelief
but not looking back once.

© Paul Tristram 2007

Published in In Between Hangovers, Issue #7, July / August 2008

Anarchy Symbol

It was our first date,
it was 2.30am,
we were heading
back to mine.
We took the short cut
under the viaduct.
(I’m romantic, I can’t help it!)
She stopped to make
a roll-up
and then from her pocket
produced and dabbed
the sachet of amphetamine,
then offered me the same.
(She was romantic too!)
I accepted, I’m a gentleman.
Put my special brew can
down upon the
seagull shit stained
tarmac.
Unzipped and urinated
up against a wooden
garden fence, in style.
I designed an anarchy sign
2 foot in size,
In one gush, eh!

“My God, how did you do that,
You’re amazing?”

“That’s nothing
You should see me dancing
on one foot
after snorting
the circumference
of a full moon!”

“Cool, I can’t Wait!”

But she did wait, for two whole weeks.

© Paul Tristram 2006   

Published in In Between Hangovers, Issue #3, December 2006


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.
 
Buy his book ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036
And also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/