Green chain fence on either side
Concrete path for bikes to glide
Rapids churning far below
****** Bridge is were we'd go

Spray can pictures on its span
'Ozzy' spelt in mangled plaid
'Iron Maiden' painted red
To ****** Bridge and then to bed

Tired laughing, crying fits
Flashing censored body bits
Gladiator crayfish fights
****** Bridge on summer nights

On this bridge all kids would go
To feel the sun and swim below
Now it stands all alone
To ****** Bridge I'll always know

It's an insult to me
to be
decommissioned
tagged as
useless machinery.

I remember when
men weren't machinery men
they were supermen,
craftsmen
carpenters and
draughtsmen.

They built this Empire and
kept it going,
little knowing that they'd be
going too.

You scoff because you don't know,
you were never there at the dawn.

What do we have now?
pink poodles
Chinese and noodles
robots that know not
and what do we do?

easy

I write love
one hundred and nine times between
the lines on my face,

botox?
toxic,
someone
give me an ice pick
patch me into some voltage
and be quick.

Banner.


**** it anyway
I've had my day and seen more than
you'll ever see, look forever and you'll
see no stars and stripes,

you'll see baby wipes and feel
strangled by the star spangled,
but it's anti this or don't kiss me
goodbye
however hard that you try
you
will never see what I've been through,
up to, into,

cue violins
some Havana slims
a pitcher of gin and
let the music begin.

It's still an insult
the result is the same
I am substituted and
out of the game.

in vino
we know the
truth is there
at the bottom
of the glass and
we
don't care.

in vino
wino
watching the
grapes grow
seeing the sun
go down.

I should retire
slippers on and
sit by the fire.

I should do lots
of things, but
the siren sings
and
I am lost.

I thought I meant it,
thirty pills over three days
spaced out like the margins of
a book, double lined

shaken awake, I stir
like a cat roused from it's sleep,
stretching out the length of my body, arching my back, ready to attack

there is the needle, poking veins, collapsed veins that do not shed their blood easily, willingly

the tightness of a blood pressure band, constricting, heartbeat pulsing, ringing in my ears like titinus

the weight of near death, the long wait, internal quiet, external chaos

it breaks

no

(I didn't mean it.)

There's an arrow in my eye 
can't see too good 
feels like someone's put
a hood
over my head,
if
this carries on too long,
King or not I'll soon be
dead.

Jack said, 
'****** me 
Harry's going down in history 
blinded by some blaggard and
his archery'

Well 
sew me sideways in a tapestry 
everyone's gone down in history.

The abbess at the abbey kneeling,
sifting through
confessions or devil dealing, but nevertheless 
stealing precious time to pray for Harold who being on the way to the other side
wasn't really bothered anymore or indeed a King.

wouldn’t it be great to learn Greek
she says
quickly riffling
through the phrasebook
with a thumb and her tongue out
while I try to discover what
‘to speak’ is in Dutch

everyone uses English
you know I say
spluttering ‘ik spreek, jij spreek,
hij spreek’,
trying to nail the pronunciation
like the book tells me to
‘ick sprake, yigh sprake, hi sprake’

but they might appreciate
tourists knowing a bit in Crete
like ‘efcharistó’
or ‘ti ypérochi méra’ she mutters
but it all, literally,
sounds Greek to me
and we can’t visit everywhere

besides, she wants warm weather
but I’d be fine in, say, Sweden,
‘Där är den närmaste Ikea?’
or in Iceland, but I can’t
pronounce anything
the way the phrasebook
wants me to

so Greece is probably best,
and anyway,
she’s too busy
informing me that
‘monókeros’ means unicorn
and it’s 575 quid each
if we book now

In Winnipeg
they dig the winter graves
in autumn
before the sun sleeps
and the ground freezes.

They guess the number
of holes to dig.
They respect the cold
and the winter dead.

Death prediction
is a fine art
in Winnipeg.  


© M.L.Emmett

The night's like a cockroach that crawls up my skin, evil, exciting,
I let the night in.

The stockade has fallen, I'm free on the lam,
what kind is this man that chaos delights in the cockroach? we all know those nights so
don't pretend you can't see
or defend me, but just be one if the stars will allow and accept it
for this is the now.

In this junkyard of existence persistence pays off.

There is the diamond, a mirage floats on high,
a jewel
and my third eye desires the fires within,
more cockroaches crawl up my skin,
I let the diamond lights in.

If I excell at this it is only because the kiss of a madness is on me, badness is in me,
If vanity is to be
then it is surely
the cockroach who leads
me astray.

The government de-flowered me
it stripped me naked and
overpowered me
while the state police sat and watched it
on CC TV,

Perverts.

did we vote for this?

Election fever hits the town like a
dose of chicken pox and when the
fox is in the coop
they only do what foxes do
count coup,
I don't blame them, the
sly old dogs.

and the E.U
is how it's said in Lancashire
with an accent tha' knows
like
eeh you
yeah you know who and we
know who and they know you
and you're ******.

When they check you out for microphones
they're measuring you up for the glue in your bones.

It's a bit of a giggle,
a laugh or two
then the government screws you
and what can you do?