Monday, September 22, 2014

Paul Tristram- Three Poems

Hard-Core Nutter

Four big guys from ‘Up tha Valley’s’
offered him outside a pub in town once.
He told them to give him a second,
drank his pint down in one, bit a chunk
out of the top of the glass, chewed some
of it around then spat it-blood and all-
into the nearest ones face, then preceded
to do the lot of them right there on the spot.
Even as a kid he was insane, he jumped
over a bus off a 10ft ramp on a girls
fold-up push-bike, I’m serious, he’s nuts.
It was him in the riots on the Kingsway
in Swansea a few years back who ran
up a reversing police car and kicked
the blue light straight off the top of it.
A few months ago he actually punched
someone’s thumb off, I mean everyone’s
heard of biting them off but punching?
I didn’t even know that was possible!
Anyway, he’s been shot for the 5th time
but he’s alright just limping around a bit.
I’m off to meet him in a minute or two
down ‘The Cambrian Arms’ in The Melyn.
Yeah, sure I can pass him those 20 notes
that you owe him, no problem at all, mate.

© Paul Tristram 2014


The skin and flesh are grazed
upon my right cheek and forehead
and the Autumnal rain has soaked
my clothing completely through.
It takes me 2 false-starts and 5 minutes
to get up onto my aching, wobbling knees.
Then with the help of a bus stop
5 minutes more to make it up onto my feet,
vomit forward slightly without losing balance
whilst waiting for the slopping tide within
to calm and settle back down again.
I giddily half look around myself
and spot the police station just up ahead.
If I can manage to get past that Bastard
without being seen and bothered
then I am only a mile from home.
I gasp and restrict my breathing slightly
as I carefully focus on the job of repeatedly
putting one foot in front of the other.
Nothing in the world matters right now
as much as stamina and balance
and keeping one foot in front of the other.

© Paul Tristram 2014

Cold, Blue And Temporarily Bottomless

“Fuck me, this is colder than I expected!
I’ve changed my mind.
I have changed my mind, Completely.
I have never been so sure of anything
in my life before, Ever.
What a stupid fool I am.
I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.
I must not die, I know this.
It is a knowing, a fact.
I’ve made a mistake, a massive mistake.
She was not worth it, Christ Alive!
I’ve just realized that I don’t even love her
Oh My God, I don’t even love her.
How could you love someone who cares
absolutely nothing for you at all?
And them, that twisted family of mine
with their constant put-downs and let-downs
Fuck the lot of them!
I should never have taken their crap to heart.
I’m too sensitive, too damned nice,
that’s my trouble, it always has been,
I let people walk all over me.
I should have stayed away from them all.
Moved away from it all.
Help, Help, Help!
I’ve got to get out of this.
I’ve made a big mistake.
Oh Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!
God, I pray to you, I plead with you, I beg you.
‘Our Father Who Art In Heaven’
If you just get me out of here
I’ll never be so stupid again,
I promise, I swear on my soul,
just one more chance, please?
Oh Shit, I’m losing the feeling in my arms
and legs, oh shit, shit, shit.
Help, Help, Help!
There’s the bridge, all the way over there?
I must have drifted so much already.
I’m in the middle of miles and miles of water
Help, Help, Help!
There is no one here but me and God
and I’m Fucked and he’s looking away.

© Paul Tristram 2014

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.

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