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 books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/
‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/
And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope
at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/
You can also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.
Early A.M. Drinking
The shadows are losing ground
to the cold, grey January Dawn
window ledge creeping
like a cat-burglar.
There’s a thin line of light
keeping the draft company
under the front door.
Which wasn’t there half hour ago
when I fell over trying to piss
into a carton and light a joint-end
at exactly the same time.
(Hey, I’m reckless, ask anybody!)
I lay perfectly still
listening to the throbbing rhythm
of my painful ankle and elbow.
As the songbirds start their morning chorus
of metal filings and blackboard scratches.
The neighbour to the left leaves
in a foul mood (I can feel it from here!)
And the milkman has another run in
with that gang of stray dogs,
there’s a yelp and the word ‘Bastard!’
repeated quickly as I finally
and sickly slip wretchedly into sleep.
© Paul Tristram 2016
Thick As Shit & Twice As Smelly
(Your Pettiness Reminds Me Of The Schoolyard!)
“I don’t understand what’s happening anymore?
I haven’t really done anything wrong?
I just pointed out to one of them that they were mistaken
when they were actually mistaken about something?
I mean, I like to know if I’m mistaken straight away
so I can stop being mistaken about it immediately.
It’s escalated so quickly that I’m spinning around in circles,
It’s to the point of impending violence already?
The name calling alone was bad enough
but now they’re making up absurd, unreal crimes
about not just me but my family and anyone on my side?”
“I’ll say this once and once only!
If someone does not like you (For whatever reason?)
don’t talk to them anymore and don’t stop long enough
to explain yourself either, you ‘re wasting your time.
You can’t reason with unreasonable people,
you’re just banging your head against a brick wall
and perpetuating their bullshit and unnecessary nonsense.
Leave them behind you to cluck like chickens,
Liars are not seeking to sort out problems but to create them.
Cut your losses immediately, don’t forgive nor forget,
take note of the sneakiness you witnessed there,
learn to recognize it in the future, dust yourself off
and refuse them your energy and attention.
Move on…and go find yourself some nice people
(There’s a few left!) to associate with, my beautiful, clever child!”
© Paul Tristram 2015
Rabbit Skin Pete
People only discovered the back story a little later.
Wife, kids, divorce, loss of job, breakdown,
couple of police cautions for drunkenness,
disorderly conduct and fist fighting.
Then he disappeared completely for 18 months.
That is until a couple of surveyors
went to look around that derelict old factory
on the waste ground at the far end of Horseshoe Lane.
They discovered him in a ramshackle makeshift hut
made out of tin sheets and old doors.
They reported him to the proper authorities of course
(When asked why later? they replied sternly
that it was the proper thing to do, this is Britain
not the third world, we have standards and decency!)
The men in white coats came and dragged him away,
Sectioned him under the Mental Health Act.
They put him in Manor House on top of Town Hill
but he escaped and 12 hours later they found him
back by his shack foraging for wild roots and berries,
whilst snaring rabbits, pheasants and pigeons.
They put him in Strickwood Secure Lockup next,
5 miles away and he went on hunger strike for 2 weeks
until they threatened to force-feed him via a tube.
He complied but would only eat fruit, nuts and berries,
3 weeks later he escaped the building
down a laundry shoot and they found him hanging
from an oak tree the free side of the boundary wall.
They say that he never spoke a single word to anyone
from the time of being discovered right up until he died.
They had a photo of the tree (After they cut him down!)
in the Local Gazette with the sensitive headline
‘Local feral madman finally goes back to nature for good’.
Whoever was looking to build upon that derelict factory
never did, it’s been nothing but waste ground ever since.
© Paul Tristram 2016
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