Monday, September 7, 2015

Paul Tristram- Three Poems

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
And also read his poems and stories here!

The Bottomless Bucket Of Your Selfishness
The Never Ending Defiance Of My Desire

You are always going to lose
being envious of someone who’s winning.

© Paul Tristram 2015

Baby Banshees

I have a nest of Banshees
within my twisted cranium.
When not screaming
and tearing headaches asunder
they silently turn screws.
Tightening something awful,
encouraging a future crime,
explosion or breakdown.
They feed upon dark things
and there isn’t much room
even after all those years
of brain cell annihilation.
I have tried with eyes closed
to detangle and count them
but each time I get soul vertigo
and have to wince and clench
the motion back down again.
They feel something like Crows,
tar black, ragged feathers,
broken razorblade sharp beaks
and bullying, snatching claws.
Caged together in a Gibbet
swinging somewhere creakingly
behind my troubling frown.

© Paul Tristram 2015

Fucking Philistine

“Jesus, it just kicked off a beauty
in the Londis shop down the road.
That crazy woman was in there,
you know the one I mean,
always talking to herself
whilst swatting invisible flies
away from her demented face.
Doesn’t bathe and wears one of those
hoods with poppers at the bottom
to attach to a coat as a bloody hat.
Well, the guy behind the counter
only informed her that they couldn’t
serve alcohol until 10am on a Sunday.
She lowered her head and walked out,
I was in the queue behind her,
she ran back in half a minute later
and threw dogshit right at him,
hitting him ‘smack, bang’ in the face
and calling him a ‘Fucking Philistine’
The smell was absolutely disgusting
and he started vomiting and choking,
she had shit all dripping off her hand
as she legged it back out of the door.
Of course, the Police have been called,
they’ll Section her for sure this time.
I know she’s had her share of troubles
but flinging shite around the place
is just starting to take the piss a wee bit!”

© Paul Tristram 2015

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