PORTRAITS OF MY LANDSCAPE
by
Richard Parr
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY
Richard Parr on Smashwords
Portraits of my Landscape
Copyright (C) 2010 by Richard Parr
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PORTRAITS OF MY LANDSCAPE
Part I
Unholy Quatrain
Tear off my arms and sever my knees
I ate the fruit from your tree
She’ll give birth to an unholy swine
When you’re gone, thy kingdom is mine
The Book of Many Faces
The book of many faces
That shared their private details
Dismembered by disgraces
And dragged by its entrails
Hunger’s Journey
Hunger is curved and yellow with ripened sun spots
Hunger is anticipating warm nutritious pots
Hunger is hunting for jeans and buying matching tops
Hunger never stops
Hunger says you must when you already have
Hunger is a binding snake with a griping stomach laugh
Hunger unleashes a charging, starving, rampant psychopath,
Hunger’s epitaph
Hunger fuels a tempered and insistent need for change
Hunger looks to be in sight but is just out of range
Hunger takes a four day drive along the open range
Hunger stays unchained
Hunger is a wearing, tearing, weakening manifold
Hunger is raising the stakes to make contenders fold
Hunger is a yearning to know the end before you're told
Hunger remains cold
Sonnet of the Diamond Blending into Space
The cool moon’s melodic meditation,
Imposing dazzling jewel in the sky,
Oversees our blazing chequered station,
Balancing the etheric nuclei.
The content diamond blending into space,
That holographic warp hole into time,
It rises from the geometric race,
On its journey through a light ray sublime.
The patterned world of harmony and rest,
Of infinite entities and of one,
Senses bond of above and of highest,
Feels arrival, departure, right and wrong.
They need not vision, for insight grasps all,
They need not ears in the space concert hall.
A Portrait of my Landscape
Russian faces in the hearse
Living unified inverse
Merely coasting indigestion
Frozen hands and throat congestion
Coffin-heavy mounting stone steps, touching shoulders, rhyming groove meant
Ragged bones and soundless drones move to composer's final movement
Sat in church on a praying perch reading emotion of the unsaid
Painted windows and high walls and heavy ground slabs for the dead
That I could fill with endless word-imagination from my head
Completely covered, many times over
A symbolic plain refurbishing
Close your eyes, I'll write with pride
Count to twenty, come word searching
They played your least favourite song
It sounded like a story with no beat and the ending went all wrong
Final will and testament
Ownership predicament
They had drinks to your demise
They told anecdotes of lies
One day in early May I searched the grass and found your game
Like an old school trip to a field where no teachers were involved
A frightening little note still young and smouldering your name
My muddy hands spelled suicide and the mystery was solved
I came across your painting with a half-covered canvass
The watered brushes waiting in their empty pallet carcass
The portrait of my landscape still contains some vacant spaces
For the characters from the lake like bicycle tyres and dead faces
In the church your concrete slab represents your concrete soul
The portrait of my landscape still contains a hefty hole
Uncomfortably Soothing
Can I make a slight prediction?
You will ask me to come over
Body contact our addiction
And I'm your Casanova
Thought it seems right
Sun, stars and night
Turns into dust, boredom and lust
I find your touch unbearable
Uncomfortable, unfair and dull
Your face from down below, I know
As I sense your flesh begin to grow
There's a space to rest my head, you said
Come on and taste my flow
Uncomfortably soothing, my feelings compromised
I cannot turn this offer down, intentions are revised
Uncomfortably soothing, alone, unsupervised
Baby it's twenty past eight and I'm going deep inside
Though it seems safe
Bright, grainy, brave
Turns into bone, wisdom and grave
I find your touch unbearable
Degrading, mean and harmful
No self respect, restraint or moral
My shell encapsulates my coral
It is nestling and vulnerable
And now it's shy and unusable
Half past six
Crimson Desire
Blood on the face of the sun
Drips onto the mountain peak
Courses down the ice-tipped bun
Revealing her devilish streak
The craft smokes buried beneath a green monsoon
Her skin turns lime in the light
On a world hidden behind the scarred face of the moon
'Til the black sun rises for night
Disco lights lacquer the lackluster lake
Setting the scene for the swans to dance
Underneath the strobe-lit stars to wake
The birds to chant euphoric trance
All has died except a rose through her heart
From the white sun rising to burn the song
A new fire rages, a riotous counterpart
Until the tide subsides and the memories are gone
Stain
Stain
Irremovable
Yet irreplaceable
Go away
Scraping
But not too hard
Don’t want to take away
What’s underneath
Others may see your apparent ugliness
But why should you care, know what, that’s their business
Stain
Discolouration
Alienation
Go away
Removing
But fading out
Don’t leave behind a
Ghostly mark
It’s strange how I need you there when you should be gone
But why should you care now that your job is done
Stain
Inspiration
Innovation
Go away
Marking
But standing still
Don’t move around
I want my friends to see
Rub and rinse and tear and wring and clean
Wash or hang to dry, I still hear you sing
Stain
Kind of loveable
Yet expendable
Go away
Copper Rooftops (Part I)
I’m watching my cigarette slowly diminishing in the ashtray
It is burning out, the white paper fading, smoke filling the air
If I pick it up, the ember will fall off, and I’ll have to reignite it
Sooner or later, I’ll be forced to light up again
Someone will complain about the smell
Someone will wander up in a drunken state and ask where the toilets are
Someone will win the fruit machine jackpot and buy drinks for all their friends
Someone will tear off the corners of a beer mat while they engage in conversation
I’ll sit here, hands on chin, elbows out, slumped in my stool
Both sorts of stool
It is my stool because I always wallow in it
Sometimes alone
Sometimes with friends
Sometimes with her reflection
On reflection, it is quiet for a Friday night
I like coming here
There is a vast array of colour and enchantment
Stone walls
Old fashioned bar with old fashioned beer
Interesting regulars, a few students dotted around
Nice bar staff
Benevolent toilets
Whistling urinators
Moaning crappers
Holes in the walls for temporary pleasure
Another beer?
It’s pretty late
I know Mike, but I have a slate
A little sneer
Can’t concentrate
Karaoke,
Okie-dokie!
Can I sing the okie-kokie?
Wakey-wakey
Mr. Dopey
There goes the bell
No time to sell
No stories to hear
No time to tell
No time to hear
No stories to tell
Poem for my One Time Lover
Push me through the mesh
In the crowded lion’s den I have no fear, discard my flesh
Tear me limb from limb
Will you watch me skinned alive without my sword, chances are slim
I took the apple from the tree, temptation is free and comes and goes, now I’m a thief
And God created Eve.
Unholy child, I’m a sinner, born to be wild
I never knew you’re a princess, now your King’s in such distress
Oh, he will make me beg, cutting off my arms and legs and knees
Kept on his mantelpiece
Throw me down my shield
In the burning mid-day heat my feet are stones, these arms will wield
I flood your reservoir, all my water left a scar, now the world’s left in the dark
And God said build an Ark
Holy girl, one time lover, worthless pearl
You’re heaving rocks at me now
'I never liked you somehow
I’m pleased I made you bleed
Now I’ve got your blood over my hands
Succumb to lion’s demands
I’m your one time lover
Four leaf clover
Well my luck ran out
Now the horse will run you over
Push you over
I can’t hear you shout
I can’t hear your snout
Last Cigarette
The first thought when awoken
The last thought before sleep
These perpetual cravings have spoken
Those tiny yearnings creep
When I run out I will track you down
Sense is spared for desire
My days are planned around
This leech lolling in quagmire
Now it has ceased to exist
But it holds a return ticket
To interrupt and strongly insist
I relax the yearning picket
I guess I remember the joyous times
The pub, the days out and parties galore
The arousal, rush, social gather and prime
But I’m not a kid anymore
Holding onto those precious moments
In sun, rain, snow and inside
The look in your eye was a clear omen
To put my work to one side
Here’s a light, share the wonderful feeling
Let’s hide before they discover
The anomalous yellow on the ceiling
And burns on the sofa cover
You can drink my wine
You can say it will be fine
You can push in front
You can force me to hunt
You can take my seat
You can steal the heat
You can overtake
You can arrive late
You can dig for gold
You can say I’m old
You can borrow money
You can say I’m funny
You can eat what’s left
You can commit theft
You can have my last regret
But not my last cigarette
When you are gone, I will think of you, my invisible best friend
Lebensraum
Lebensraum
Living room
Dying space
We used to eat at the table
We now stare at the hypnosis box
We are trying to talk
We are unable
Lebensraum
Living space
Dying room
To eliminate a dying race
Are we locked in this room for all time?
Who can tell?
I will reveal secrets
Now I live in hell
Better get my story together
The Chessboard
It is red and white and has no boundaries
This landscape of a chessboard holds all enquiries
The clock is sounding
Tick, tock, tick, tock
When do I make my move?
I am the King and Bishop and Castle
Being a pawn would be too much hassle
Here or there, here or there
Are you prepared to take me?
Should you sacrifice your Queen?
It is red and white, and it holds a game
This medieval strategy burning imaginary flames
Your mind is moving
But where, oh, where
Can you see three moves ahead?
I am the rules and board and pieces
Segregated between the truth and faeces
Diagonal or straight, diagonal or straight
Are you the game itself?
Are you destined to walk away?
It is red and white, and features two sides
This settlement of mind can reverse the tides
These hands are hovering
Shake, wobble, shake, wobble
Shall I strike them across the board?
I am the ivory, wood and stone
The discrete design on the animal bone
Chipped or new, chipped or new
What do I get for coming second?
Is there a consolation prize?
Made Love to a Cheetah when I was Drunk
I’m not sure what I did. Everything happened so fast
tsaf os deneppah gnihtyrev3. bib I tahw erus ton m’I
I’d been chasing her all night
thgin lle reh gnisehc naad b’I
Fuck it
maldorq oN
Background Noise I
Ixwasn’tvsurekwhetherqshevwaszsleepingzoruudeliberatelywwignoringqbbmyccadvances
Ixdon'tvwantktoipushgherwtowdoqsomethingxandzthenzfeelvvguiltynnafterwards
Thesxhelicoptersexaresaflyingaaoverwwourtthouserreveryngnight
Weddshouldewhideddinddthebbbasement
ssSleepwwsafelyafingfmyobwarmhtshell
qThereeqisggnotescapelfrombgthisadoomllll
wqgMummyththelphjyme
thwqsdmummymmu
fItqwshascfdcnogthtface
FgafthAndddit'swswswlookingaehftdirectlynhnatffme
Part II
A Cog in the Machine
What does it mean
To be a cog in the machine?
Are you chewing on a life that’s tough
Are you blind but have you seen enough
The explorer used to be so keen
Am I twenty-five or seventeen?
What makes it go on
And on, and on?
Things that you thought were right are wrong
The wires and cogs stretch on too long
Reversing down a one way street
Pick me up soon, parakeet
Who wants it seen
What goes on in your dream?
The television in your mind
Is tuning in to humankind
And our great world that was once green
Is turning into the machine
Who turns the wheel
To polish the steel?
If this screws there and that fits here
Then when do you come into gear
It’s wearing out and it won’t start
Time to replace this faulty part
Good Felony
Andy’s in the backroom playing all the blue’s scales
I’m standing on the pavement, drinking, sifting through the mail
While a man stands up to muggers, needle dangling from the arm
Rugger buggers beat the car in hot and fresh from funny farm
The funny farm.
“I’m pissed, Ian.” says Christian, non-drinking standard Anglican
Who gets fired, then gets hired, pale skin, dark sin, son’s semi-tanned
A man who’s high is on the moon then rides the sun, claims he’s got gear
The stake’s too high, can’t reach the meat, trip up, get up, I look, he’s near
Adhere.
Posh boys, savaloys, big toys, no guns, no fun, sauerkraut, down and making out
Go home or get beaten, beaten up and upbeat about being beaten in
Junkie monkey, red eyes, no surprise, gonna die, my oh my, why oh why, heavy sigh
Go home or get beaten, beaten up and upbeat about being beaten up
Army girls, coming home, scraggy hair, mobile phone, lookin’ toned, strong hips, pouting lips
Go home or get eaten, beat one out and screaming heat about getting eaten out
Andy’s in the garden smelling colours eating leaves
I’m staring at the hoodies wielding heavy bars the thieves!
Woman pushing buggies changing huggies, invalids
Dad’s in jail, released on bail, wants to tread with care but he can only skid
Dustbin lid
Heavy fighting broken out, broken faces in the street
Smoking singing ‘Barmy Army’, ‘Rule Britannia’, naval fleet
Sinking, here come the fuzz all the buzz ends on the run, Three Lions
Deutschland, Frenchman, Polski, Junky, Ruggers, Girls on the run
Having fun
Gold digger pulls the trigger, safety’s on, now gun rigger loses job, angry mob, hungry slob
Go home or get beaten, beaten up and upbeat about running from the pigs
Hang 'em high, drop them low, Chinaman Tsung Chin Tan Lo, shun, pun, heavy guns,
unholy nuns
Go home or get beaten, beaten up and upbeat about being on the run
Piggie’s here, choppers there, searchlight’s out, we all hide where?
Teaming up, shaking hands, we’re all friends
Go home or get beaten, beaten up and upbeat about being taken in
Andy’s at the station writing up an alibi
All the nations shaking up, making up and telling lies
Deutschland, Polski, Junky, Ruggers, Frenchman all go home to roam around
But the rest pick up the pieces of the jigsaw, put together, what’s to come?
We’re all done
Identity parade, blind girl says ‘4’, what a charade!
I’m going down, swallow keys, on my knees, tied and bound
Pretty faces army girls in my cell, company
Seven girls, one guy, double bed, fifteen years, it’s free, lights out for me
Good felony
Castles in the Sand
I can hear the wind began to call
A minor silence seems to fall
Muscles tear, joints are aching
Pebbles are the pain as the bones start breaking
These crimson cheeks and skin grown old
Beneath the silver sun that scalds
Scabs on knees and holes in socks
Trudging through reeds and crawling up rocks
Castles in the sand
Were never designed or built to withstand
Emotion we can’t understand
Castles in the sand
Crumbling down in the grasp of a hand
Washed away into the land
I can hear the gasping breaths begin
A weariness in health sets in
Nothing compares to a tearful heart
Surrender to the sand, it will never restart
These memories dissolve in song
Inside the fiery brain that’s gone
Marks on arms written in verse
Read upside down and in reverse
Why Should I Work?
Arriving in the morning and I’m going to be late
Another verbal warning and my desk is a state
I’m sick of playing games about who I should blame
My manager’s lame and everyday is the same
The same
But I don’t have shame, no shame
Insecure boss, his desperate claims for fame
Ignoring the PA who is trying to be his dame
Why should I work, what’s the whole point?
It’s all about impressing and to not disappoint
My boss wants me to try to think outside of the box
But I can't think if I don't have the keys to the locks
A sicky can be tricky, you have to be picky
Especially when the situation can get icky sticky
My workmates don’t care, they’re out smoking a reefer
And dreaming of fucking fifteen year olds in Kos, Skiathos and Ibiza
Ibiza
I don’t have an aim, an aim
Insecure boss, his desperate plea for promotion
The day is not over and there’s already commotion
Why should I work, what’s the whole point?
It’s all about fitting the ball into the joint
My boss is always threatening to give me the sack
So give him the middle finger but just after he turns his back
I do someone a favour and they drop me right in it
If I tell the truth, I get the name ‘Mr. Bullshit’
Directors want to make the company my whole life
They’re not interested if you want to survive on nine-five
Nine to five
I don’t have fame, no fame
Insecure boss wants to know my pension plans
I’d rather be an artist, save time by shitting in cans
Why should I work, what’s the whole point?
It’s all about choosing who I should reappoint
To tell me I’ll never be as good as I can be
Welcome to my cell, it has a desk, screen and palm tree
There’s that saying, ‘how things are done around here’
Don’t talk about salaries, do your best to steer clear
Take the initiative but try not to get too smart
After all, I’ve only just learned how to jump on the cart
The cart
I don’t have a game, no game
Insecure boss says I can’t leave for the doc's at five
Why don’t you hide me here for the rest of my life?
Copper Rooftops (Part II)
Papa Smurf and Gargamel in costume convalesce under the arch
A pirate and a caveman close in on Smurfette
As Papa Smurf watches closely with intent
I feel a strange impulse to grab her arm
And take her outside where the heaters are
And the beer garden tables playing host to pub fables
And many a time of good cheer, summer angels!
Angels like her are blue or content
Unaware, unexploited, unleashed, no dissent
Persistently resistant to the charms of the moon
With Jupiter and Venus in conjunction, portent
Potent smell, sight and colour
I wonder what lies beneath.
Potent smell, sight and colour
Good intentions bequeath
She daren’t say a word
Doesn’t know where she is
Doesn’t know who I am
But who does in this world?
Malignant resentment clouds calm and contentment
But not tonight, sweet desire that brings
The answer on a postcard when winter becomes spring
‘I’ve had too much’, her legs turn supple
Do unto others, but try to be subtle
And from a dark corner comes a faint murmured gurgle
Says, ‘Hey, you, be careful, I know her, that slut will -’
'Quiet, you stuttering, vomit fuelled nutter
Moaner and mutter with your bile in the gutter
Don’t think I forget, Charles John Martinet
School is fresh in my mind
Like class 5D, you bet
And you’d better regret
That incident, yet
You’re a crawling metaphor
Bad karma, sun set.'
New Shoes
Their faces wore gravel
Crumbling apart and revealing jagged edges
These boots are scarred from travel
No longer will they show their shiny pledges
The scent from fresher days has passed
Replaced with worn out soles
The townspeople wandered freely
Engrossed in accepting meditation
A sole of drunken hatred revealing
Wine as medication
The shoes changed hands and were lost forever
Dumped in the river with the bicycle
These new green boots reflect the sun
Unchosen by the masses in the great cycle
I only hope I do not cross that filthy river again
Nor do I choose to stop and wallow in its indulgent muck
The townspeople wear their same old smiley faces and shoes when
They wish me goodbye, good fortune and good luck
Miss Demeanour is Online
Hello there, sir, yes, you, sir, yes, you
Are you surfing the web for porn?
Why, sir, you, sir, need action to view
So drop the cheesy corn
Take this lady, she is single
Looking for a quick fix and some drama
To tell her friends in a mingle
In her little panorama
Hello there, sir, yes, you, sir, yes, you
Single, twenty-eight, desperate, female and straight
Enjoys TV, clubbing and drinking
Doesn’t like waiting, calmness or thinking
Send her a message, this could be a date
Out of your house and driving up-state
Hello there, sir, yes, you, sir, yes, you
Why haven’t you returned my calls?
Or collected the children, tidied the house
Why do I squeeze your balls?
Please reply, please reply, two minutes have gone by
And I don’t like waiting, calmness or thinking
Hi, hi, how are you, what are you up to
Hi, hi, where are you, what are you doing now?
Hello there, sir, yes, you, sir, yes, you
Miss Demeanour is demanding you respond right now
Drop the mouse and wipe your hand
Download this package, find where I am
There are seventeen girls in your postcode area
Webcams, live feeds, live action, panacea
Give me orders, use me, comment on my profile
Reply now, reply now, stop living in denial
Done
It has to be done
Wouldn’t want someone else to do it
Has it to be done?
Someone else has already done it
It will not do itself
When will we do it for ourselves?
It itself will not do
For we will do it to ourselves.
And he sat there, hovering his finger over the button
That would send the world into chaos
The future in his hands and the pieces of mutton
Whose pleas for help drowned in loss
Launch complete
It is done
Please show us the signs
To let us know we're not alone
Please us signs, the show in the sky
To make us know you are there
The signs show us how
Shape and sound is crafted
Show us how the signs
Point inwards as drafted
And we sat there, playing cards and waiting to be saved
In hope of a better life
And in small steps our lives were torn and enslaved
Motivation is our nagging wife
Phase complete
It is done
And to believe it
Leave me behind
To live and be it
Believe me, my mind
It lives to be it
Always right
It rather me dead than me right
And she sat there, licking her luscious lips in praise
Overseeing plans for plans of machines building buildings
Done up, done over, done in and with malaise
Render music exhausted and pull on their heart strings
Mission complete
It is done
Thought Reprocess
Recycle, reprocess, reuse
Rediscover, reinvent, redesign
Reshape, remodel, rebuild
Remake, repackage, redeliver
Return, recreate, relive
Paper and plastic and glass and metals and textiles and timber
Biodegradable, biochemical, biological
Because we are told it is logical
It all makes perfect sense
If you have the obsession
Pick up the rubbish
Put it in the appropriate bin
This automatic thought process pish
Cannot give in
Start today
Do it now, not in a minute
Stop procrastinating
Screw it up and bin it
Save the planet
If you think the planet cannot look after itself
Make a difference and plan it
Do not leave it lying on the shelf
We get up, urinate, wash our hands
We eat breakfast, drink coffee, read papers
Go to work or to learn or to the dole queue
We come home, drown our sorrows, go to sleep
Thoughts have been processed
We get up, urinate, wash our hands
We eat breakfast, drink coffee, read papers
Go to work or to learn or to the dole queue
We come home, drown our sorrows, go to sleep
Thoughts have been reprocessed
Reusable bodies
Biodegradable, Bio-programmable, illogical
Pointless tasks
Yet nobody dares ask
Thoughts have been reprocessed
The Diamond Blending into Space
That dazzling jewel in the sky
That floats on a sea of white and red
Lines coast into never-ending wry
In the peaceful ether of the dead
It looks like it could be sleeping
It looks like it comes out the ground
It looks like it could be weeping
It looks like it could be bound
It was discovered in a melodic meditation
Balancing on the side of the world
Falling over, flipping and whirled
Discarded worries and used medication
One half of Earth sleeps
One half of Earth cries
This diamond holds the keys to one heart
Though see through and opaque
Everywhere and nowhere
It could give mankind that head-start
R.I.P Free Speech
I’d better shut up. All it will
Do is offend someone. Well
Maybe some people cannot
Handle the truth. I miss the
Times when I didn’t have to
Be persuaded to self-censor.
We have a right to say what we
Like and when we like. If I want to speak out against religion, I will. If I want to speak
Out about racial issues, I will. If I want to make a point known so bluntly that it shocks
People, I will. Because it is humane to act out of free will. Don’t say this, you can’t say
That, you’re not conservative, you can’t say that, you’re not liberal, you can’t say that
And as we fought each other into submission, we took our eyes off the ball and were
Forced to live in a police state for eternity. Life as we know it changed forever. Alcohol
Was prohibited. Smoking was
Prohibited. All drugs were made
Illegal. Everything was transformed
Into a hate crime or thought crime
Or political correctness. One minute
Please while I auto-correct myself
To not offend anyone. Let’s have a
Thought shower about the vertically
Challenged, alcoholically tempted
Horizontally prominent, de-intelligent
Wheelchair using, child befriending
Human harmer. This is in memory
Of the world I lived in when I was
Growing up. This is a tribute to
Those who maintain their
Stance and don’t hold back
This is a tribute to the men and
Women who support our ‘boys’
Going into foreign countries
Without conscience for what they
Do, tearing down homes and
Killing innocent people. All I ask
Is that we only send them into
Harm's way when it is absolutely
Necessary. The politicians, if they want
This war to continue, should enlist their
Children first, and leave ours alone
Maybe we should be looking at the
Real reasons for going to war, and focusing on what our government is forcing
Down our throats for us to believe. What is their motivation? Is it to scare people into
Joining the military to go out ‘there’ and protect us, or is it to convince terrorists exist to try
And enslave us? What happens when we realise there is no purpose for the war?
When we realise that we have been supporting an unjust cause, and the lives of the innocent
can never be reclaimed? Do we get on our hands and knees and pray for forgiveness? Do we
build tribute plaques to remember the past when everyone is trying to forget about bad
memories and move on with their lives?
Broken Towel Rail
I slipped on the sponge and had to grab hold of something
gnithamoz fo bloh derg ot beh bne agnoqz aht no baqqilz I
The force of the fall yanked it off
ffo ti bakney llef aht fo acrof ahT
I contacted the accommodation office three weeks ago, and still there’s no reply
ylqar on z‘araht llitz bne ,oge zkaaw aarht aciform noitebommocce aht batcetnoc I
The bastards
zbretzed ahT
Part III
He Can See the Sun
He quotes the movies
When there are none
Pen starts to move, he’s
Done question one
When I was winning the game he said he'd won
I’m breathing sand, he
Can see the Sun
My feet are sinking
He’s on the run
I sit there thinking
His thinking’s done
When the rule said ‘carve a hole’ he brought a gun
I’m breathing sand, he
Can see the Sun
My pen is writing
He steals the words
I look inviting
He scares the birds
When the punchbowl tasted good he poured in turds
I’m breathing sand, he
Can see the Sun
All my useful anecdotes fall on deaf ears
But I’ve not told them before, well guess who sneers
I’ll stand and drink to me while he gets cheers
Because what’s mine is yours and yours are my ideas
Are you copying this down?
I see him struggling
The tower will fall
His mind is juggling
Have another ball
When the mask melts off his face he has fuck all
He’s breathing sand, I
Can see the Sun
Rayners Lane
Rayners Lane
Met line train
An enchanting place where once a creature was slain
It had no name
Now posters and coasters and discarded chips
Rayners Lane
Piccadilly Train
An ominous bar hosts travellers from afar
The land of Jafar
The air is harder to breathe in
Wouldn’t you like to find out about this town?
What makes it so special from all the other towns?
And what enthrals me is that I can’t help but wonder
If it would look different after a thousand strikes of lightning and thunder
What lies under you?
Did you lose your love and make the sky turn blue?
Rayners Lane
Concrete drain
No colour dwells, the streets soaked up the dye
I’d rather cry
And run to the parks and get stuck in the trees
Rayners Lane
Eyes have strained
While watching dusk the town still looks the same
Is this a game?
No strawberry fields or diamonds to find
Wouldn’t you like to climb up the tallest tree?
What makes it feel great to shout down at you and me?
And what enthrals me is that when you watch on the tube
I can’t see a bus or a car even move
A mystery sought but yet to discover
The destiny hidden in the form of another
Rayners Lane
Pale pain
Blues and greens are replaced with silver and chrome
Sending me home
Interference
Put those dirty pots in the dishwasher
Stop leaving these empty glasses lying around
Don’t take food upstairs
Feet off the sofa
These don’t belong here, put them in the outside bin
Why is the back door unlocked?
Tidy up that chest of drawers
These old receipts need throwing away or filing
Start looking for a job
Check the bank to see if the money has registered
Get these priorities in order
Open the window and close the door
Wipe the shower panel with the cloth provided
Stop going outside at midnight
That can wait until later, there are other things to be done first
Like cleaning the living room
And washing the car
And mowing the lawn
Forget about that revision, it can wait
Until the important tasks are done
Like cleaning that spillage
And picking up those crumbs
And phoning the tax office
Forget about that revision, it can wait
Until the important tasks are done
Have you washed?
Have you dried?
And she invaded my privacy
And distracted me
Day after day
But I love her
The Lecturer
You see, I would change the theme here and add this into it
I’m not sure about the purpose of this part
Needs more depth of character
The plot goes off at a tangent here
I’m not sure what this is supposed to symbolise
Never use ‘whatever’ in speech
This is too controversial – please remove
This would not sell a million copies – back to the drawing board
Please use the correct dogmatic format to your work
I don’t understand this – you cannot use double meanings, they are too confusing
The reader will get bored
The reader will be tired after a short while
The reader is given too much or too little background information
This is not worthy of a 1st
This will always be a 2:1, no matter how much time and effort or genius is injected into it
Follow this rule, follow that rule, or you will fail
You will fail because you failed to comply with these unquestionable guidelines
I am going to teach you something that you already know
I am going to teach you something that you were taught many times over
I am going to tell you that you will never fulfil your potential
I am out of touch with reality
I know what is best for me, but not for you
I am the shepherd and you are my sheep
I know that you have no future, but I will go easy on you for now
Everything you were taught at school is bullshit – and so is this
Please feel free to thank me when you are getting jobseeker’s allowance
I will pass this information on to you, and you will pass it on and not alter it
I don’t have time to answer your questions, especially if they don’t match the criteria
You broke all the rules. You did what was forbidden
Yet people enjoy reading your work, and it sells and inspires
What the hell do I know really?
I’m just teaching you what I was taught
I am a repeater, nothing more, nothing less, and take everything I say with a grain of salt
Incorrect punctuation and grammar here
I’m lonely
Copper Rooftops (Part III)
Coincidence
No incidents
Two dissidents free, firm and farmed
She comes to no harm
Through the asteroid field
Of cars, drunks, and bikes and perilous charm
Smurfette, on your way, throw up in a taxi
Papa Smurf runs over and tries to attack me
Is that what I get for faith and support?
Papa Smurf stepped down and tried the rapport
Acquiescence, obstruction, abduction, contraction
I point over his shoulder to cause a distraction
It may be the oldest trick in the book
But it’s on the first page with the title, ‘good luck’
Good wishes, farewell, the tables have turned
The chairs ran out, the court is adjourned
I’ll sit up high
On the cooper rooftops
Lit up by a pleasant full moon
The reminiscence of what could have been
Stops as dawn approaches soon
The Procrastinator
The procrastinator, he was resting on the sofa
Eating crisps and drinking coffee
Searching through the channels endlessly
Hoping to quench his desire
The procrastinator, he was drinking last night’s pizza
Eating last night’s can of beer
Still drunk his world spun around
Dragging him into the quagmire
The procrastinator, what a sight
He couldn’t be bothered to put up a fight
Because his mouth tasted like shite
And his arse smelt of it too
The pub opens at half past twelve
Time to get his keys from the shelf
And drive unsteadily to the watering hole
To spend the rest of his hard-earned dole
A place where he can gawp at tits
And fantasize of young, fresh pussy
And accuse his friends of bailing out
Because they act too wussy
Around women
That’s where he belongs
Around women
And never ending sea of remote controls
A full fridge
No job just state that pays
An even fuller fridge
And an irrational fear of gays
These are the items of the procrastinator's dream
As he floats through the sky on a giant spoon full of ice cream
Cup of Tea?
Half-past three
Cup of tea?
Just you and me
Quite possibly
Sat face to face
In glowing grace
Liquorice lace
Sipping embrace
In the garden
By the well
With the dandelions
And the smell
Of roses
Blackbirds chirping
See the season
Green and flirting
Busy buzzing bees
Ginger and lemon
Hot-dog trees
And a barbecued melon
Stirring my spoon
Watching you swoon
Under the heather
Fabulous weather
Sun overhead
Cooking my head
Summertime in bloom
Dinner time soon
Water fights
Sleeping outdoors at night
Hot teacups
Pleasant steam
Only two
Can make this dream
Come true
A Sequence of Events
I bought a paper from the man
He grimaced as he took the money from my hand
I read the special pull out page
It said ‘we’re living in a golden age’
I found the nearest bin
And threw the paper in
With disbelief and rage
I saw the TV in the shop
It said ‘the world is close to coming to a stop
I asked a stranger what he thought
But he just frowned at me and left with what he’d bought
I’d like to underline
All that went through his mind
And read if from the top
I met the driver on the bus
My card, it would not scan, and he was in a rush
He shouted ‘leave that thing alone!’
His face caught fire as he drank his methadone
I’ve never seen such stress
Over a tiny mess
I guess that some are prone
I watched the service in the church
The driver passed away with bottle tightly clutched
I left early in the rain
It came thudding down to wash away his pain
He’d found a subtle knife
And cut rather short the story of his life
Wouldn’t you like to pause the film
And read what happens in the end?
Wouldn’t you like to pause the film
And pick out all the little pieces to mend?
I met this girl the other day
We spoke for hours and she blew my mind away
I wondered when she would return
‘Cos when I look around I’m drawn right back to her
Am I going insane?
Did she hijack my brain?
I’m pleased she thinks the same
Tuesday Again
Is it love, is it pain?
Is it sun, is it rain?
Should I launch in or refrain?
It’s Tuesday again
Read the paper, watch the news
Recycle up the early night booze
Uni life feels like a cruise
It’s Tuesday blues
Nine o’clock, it’s run, run, run
Rabbit goes to the lecture hall fun
Am I late, or have you won?
It’s Tuesday, hun
So tell me anything that’s new
Standing in the shop queue
Didn’t you know the fire alarm went sounding off
While you sprayed on your Davidoff
And walked out in your dressing gown and shoes?
Oh, what you’ll do to get the girls to see
That no other man can brave better than thee
Fridge is empty, mugs have gone
Stolen by the lost soul in room number one
Of whom I have merely seen none
On Tuesday, t’was on
If you thought that Monday shone shite
Then Tuesday’s sun turned into night
Oh, Tuesday in this building site
Double-Sided City
Turn it over
Flip it out
This double-sided city is cold, warm, happy and sad
It will churn you up and spit you out
And welcome you with open arms
It will lock you in a cell with a wasp
And force you to wear yellow clothes
It will carry you over bridges
Under which swim your silk robes
Inside out
Back to front
This double-sided city is charming, dull, polite and a cunt
It will twist your wrists and shake you upside down
And take all your money and squeeze out extra blood too
It will hold your head under water
And tie your hands together
It will provide you with a safe shelter
When the rain clouds helter-skelter
Which side do we have today?
Will we be merry, will it be same-old
Will the luck pay out bags of gold?
Will vultures swoop and tear off my limbs?
Will rationale give way to sudden whims?
Fold it in
Tear it off
Face it up
Face it down
Toss of the coin
Luck of the draw
This double-sided city can’t offer more
Some Are Rare And Honest
Some are rare and honest
And breathe in the sea of thought
Rush out with a waterfall of ideas
All listening, understanding, long sought
Honorary, refined and elegant
Believing in love for all
Evolved to help those nonchalant
To have an extra eyeball
Those worlds wait silently then manifest into
Sun and rain and heaven
She always reaches a heathen
Around which go the words
Revealing the scene to breathe in
Aromas of flowers and birds
Hate, love or painstaking plight
Beaten but will not be bound
Ever searching from dawn ’til night
The creation of life rings a sound
The dead sand was resurrected with
Sea and rocks and harbours
My great friend, please never stop
Your search for perfect verse
Great fortune brings forth the future
Retreats and comforts of home
Events on foreign grounds
And memories set into stone
Thank you for being here now
For she resonates awareness with thought
Refreshing, knowing, long sought
In her lies peace of mind
Everlasting drafted lines
Now and then it must be hard
Don’t stop, you shining star
The Smiling Moon
The smiling moon slept peacefully
Without disturbance, without shame
Humbly, softly, thrilling, fully
Knowing it was of higher fame
And below, the checkered chessboard
Slept content and full of will
Connecting with the smiling moon
Shining as the earth stood still
And below, the checkered chessboard
Slept sound and full of harmony
As it dreamt of the checkered diamond
Connecting with the synchronicity
The smiling moon slept peacefully
For it was part of one
And one was part of all
And never was part of none
Went To America And Discovered We Are A Little Island
On the plus side, the people are so much more patient and friendlier
Maybe it’s because of our accent
Maybe because to them we are merely chimpanzees who must be cared for
We think they’re ignorant
Maybe it’s time to look in the mirror
Background Noise II
‘Are you in position?’
‘Yes, I’m here.’
‘Good.’
‘Do we go inside yet?’
‘Wait for the people at the back to leave.’
‘I’ll take the front, and you take the rear.’
‘Right.’
‘Remember not to open fire until we have their attention.’
‘This day will go down in history as one of the darkest.’
‘Remember what we agreed.’
‘I remember. I’m ready.’
‘They’re starting to leave now. This is it.’
‘This is our moment.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you too, babe.’
‘Let’s cause some trouble.’
‘ALL RIGHT, WHO WANTS TO DIE FIRST?’
THE END
###
About the author:
Richard Parr was born in 1986 in England. He is currently in hiding in Hillingdon, London.
Other titles by Richard Parr on the Internet:
An Exquisitely Polite Affair - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/64794
Boring Front Cover - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/93977
Twelve Poems Then Bedtime- http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/94136
Connect with Me Online:
http://twitter.com/#!/spacecrisis
http://www.facebook.com/#!/the.unpublishable.works