Slumped in the shadows
beneath Rainbow Bridge.
She picked at a fresh scab
upon her hidden left wrist
wishing and willing
the irritating colours
around herself to be gone.
It Was His OCD That Killed Him
Well, that and the big red double decker bus!
He had a sneaking suspicion
that he was in trouble that morning.
For half an hour earlier he had seen
one of those foam take away chip trays.
Upside down and insultingly staring
at him from the gutter on Stockems Corner.
He had tried to jump upon it,
to put an end to its perfect white arrogance.
But a sudden gust of wind from The Melyn
blew it across the road over to the island
where two of his ex’s live.
He was not going to tempt fate
and mix bad luck up with karma
so he reluctantly let the annoying thing go free.
Bad mistake and decision making, obviously.
On his way back home he spat his chewing gum
over his left shoulder at the 3rd drain and missed.
To his horror he watched it land
upon the unforgiving tarmac a centimetre away
from the drain containing happiness
blessing and all sorts of assorted good luck.
He instantly spun around 7 times on the spot
and stepped back backwards out into the road.
And that was that, he died instantly!
It was his OCD that killed him.
It was his OCD that killed him.
Yes, It was his OCD that killed him
Writing Under The Influence Of Life
to observe and witness
all of this un-glorious living madness.
The daily carnival of the absurd.
People fighting tooth and nail
for things that they do not really need
and which often times do not matter.
Stepping on toes, jumping queues
elbowing people out of the way
at the bargain section.
Arguing over shopping trolleys
and parking spaces
and let us not forget
the Nation’s favourite sport
of Road Rage, Yippee!
Nearly losing an eye
outside the post office
by anxious and frightened
umbrella wielding old ladies.
Being attacked and McAssaulted
outside of Burger Kings in city centres
by gangs of seagulls
(Yes, the creatures I used to watch
on David Attenborough programmes.
Their names give away exactly
where they should be!)
There’s a smoking ban in pubs
and it is illegal to smoke standing
in a one sided bus stop?
I’m tired of being stopped
and pocket searched
for being in a burglary hotspot
“But it’s January in the UK
so it’s always dark,
I live on this street
and I’m walking my dog.
Officer, cast your gaze downwards
see, dog on a lead!)
There are 2fas
on White Lightning Cider
but you need to take out a loan
to buy Real Ale.
The margarine that reduces cholesterol
is close to £5
whilst the crap that’s bad for you
hasn’t been banned
it’s selling for a mere 50 pence?
You need a TV license
if you have no TV but you do have
a mobile phone.
All of this before you actually get
into the seedier side of life
with the Pimps, Prostitutes,
Pederasts, Rapists, Murderers,
Drug Dealers, Arsonists, Muggers,
Terrorists, Wars, Diseases, Famine,
Genocide, Global Warming
and all of the many other
Man Made and Environmental Disasters.
There is absolutely no wonder
that there are Heroin Addicts out there.
Crack Heads, Speed Freaks, Alcoholics
and all the other assorted Weirdo’s.
That the Prisons, Mental Institutions,
Rehab Centres, Homeless Hostels,
Park Benches and Cemetery’s are full.
No, what is surprizing
is that there isn’t more of it out there.
But hey, you do not need
to be Clairvoyant to see that coming,
Do you now?
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.