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 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Gaffer
Joe.
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Gaffer
They always said.
There goes Joe
You can set your watch
To Joe.
Always has time for everyone.
Joe.
The reports were sketchy at first.
He just started shooting everybody.
They thought it was a terrorist at first.
He killed himself.
That's what they do.
Terrorists.
They gave his name.
It didn't make sense.
It was Joe.
They couldn't accept it.
He had time for everyone.
Joe.
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Gaffer
Sally.
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Gaffer
It was always about Sally.
Every part of the working day.
Always Sally.
The report was boring him numb.
She sat across from him.
White blouse, black skirt.
Uniform of seduction.
He recalls the first time
How do you fancy a drink.
The response turning him on.
Only if you don’t mind drinking with a Lesbian.
He didn’t
For a awhile, she became Sally out of reach.
To be replaced with.
Out of reach Sally.
He watched her working away.
Crossing her legs in that teasing way.
Wondering if she wore nylons and black *******.
Out of reach Sally
Out of reach.
She watched him.
Reading his mind.
Strangely liking the unconscious attention.
It wouldn’t happen.
She knew that.
Next week he would be watching her replacement.
The final drink goodbye.
She introduced herself as Michelle.
He didn’t really care.
Lost in another world.
A package arrived.
He knew that scent.
Carefully opening it.
Touching the soft material.
Anything exciting, from across the office.
Sally.
The girl I replaced.
Yes.
Was she nice.
Out of reach Michelle.
Out of reach.
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Mike Essig
Ouch!
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Mike Essig
this morning
my lips
are blistered

too many bites
of hard life

i guess

  ~mce
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Gaffer
Tragic little girl
The angels took you away
Now you play in dreams
Shining bright

Tragic little girl
Your room a shrine
To the toys
That play no more

Tragic little girl
Playing in the clouds
Watching mummy
Hoping

Tragic little girl
Screaming
Mummy please
Don’t **** me

Tragic little girl
Breathing slowly
A mother's kiss
Tears on the pillow

Tragic little girl
New baby
Toys are alive
Whilst the cradle rocks.
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Mike Essig
At some point
hating becomes
just too tedious;
probably a good thing
(although many still
deserve hating).

Somewhere between
nearly old and old,
it's too much bother.

You have your
own worries,
for example
about dying tragically
forgotten (if not
too young).

So you give up hating.

You even get over
Richard Nixon.
(OK, maybe not
completely.)

You leave the
hate world knowing
plenty of others
will pick up
your slack.

Perhaps you had
a good career
as a hater;
perhaps you were
bush league
at best.

Doesn't matter now.
         Relax.
You aren't going back.

  ~mce
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Gaffer
Onions.
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Gaffer
The old church lay in ruins, left to languish in time.
He was sitting on the grave talking to Sergeant R Johnston.
Well, I suppose you want an update on the war.
Let me see now, where do I begin.
Monday 0500 hrs, Pete was the first to moan, ******* hate early mornings.
Well, you would stay up all night playing cards.
Yeah, well just you remember that’s two million quid you owe me.
You better watch my back then, don’t hesitate to take a bullet for me, and for fucksakes if you’re throwing grenades about, don’t forget, it’s not the pin you throw, it’s the grenade.
*******, I got over excited.
The attack was sudden, Tony got hit, we were lucky, the ambush was poorly planned, we killed five before they ran.
Back at camp, I was starving, full English was a must, pass the sauce old chap, is that this months ******* you're reading, just love reading the stories.
Yeah right.
Just last week I was reading about this woman who made love to an onion, brought tears to my eyes, do you know her life unravelled in front of her.
You’re full of ****, don’t get the pictures sticky.
News came in, Tony didn’t make it.
The trip to the ******* tent seemed less appealing now.
Kit check, clean rifle, count bullets, kit check, clean rifle, count bullets.
Letter from home, Mary and John are getting married, Mary.
I’ve to see that shrink, what do I say to him.
Tell him you want to unburden yourself, so we’ll call it quits on the money I owe you.
*******, I’ll warm him up for you.
Half an hour later.
******* ******, said my brain was like an onion.
He did, did he, the ***** *******, I was wondering where that magazine went.
You better go see him.
Come in, I’m Dr Massey, I’m going to have an informal chat with you, sort of get to know you, anything you want to ask me.
Your fly is open.
So sorry, right lets get started, you’ve been involved in a lot of the fighting recently, talk me through it.
Let me see, we’re heading out of camp, now I always check the lunch menu before we go, it’s fish, simple dish, not to long on the hot plate, splash of lemon, great. We’re at a standoff, so I say to Pete, toss a grenade at them, guy's a genius with a grenade, can throw it for miles.
Though for some reason he’s mixed up the procedure, the grenade ends up killing the livestock, the enemy see this as an insult and go bonkers.
Then just as things couldn’t get any worse, I get back to camp to find the chefs burnt the fish, I mean, how the hell can you burn fish.
Right, this is interesting, go on.
Next day we’re heading out, steak’s on the menu, now I like my steak well done, so I was looking forward to lunch. Quiet morning, get back to camp, the idiot’s used a flamethrower on the steaks, swear to god he’s the real enemy.
Can i ask you, when you’re on home leave, do you get flashbacks, and if so, how do you deal with them.
I usually discuss everything with Sergeant Johnston.
Right, this is good, he’s been through this himself.
Oh yes, amazing man, do you know he survived the Somme only to be killed a year later in a mining accident.
Okay, wind back a bit, you talk to Sergeant Johnston who is actually dead, does he talk back you.
Come on doc, he’s like the chefs best effort at cooking, dead.
Okay that was quite interesting, what’s on the menu today.
Lasagne.
Is that good.
If you want to die, yes, better off reading a magazine.
Do you read a lot.
Yes I was reading this magazine on the workings of the human body, right up your street doc, but I seem to have misplaced it.
Well I hope you find it.
So do I doc, it will be a definite relief.
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Mike Essig
Yesterday, the knockout girl
at the checkout counter -
who looked straight through me
as though I wasn't there -
handed me a Caffè Americano
instead of my ordered Latte.

I said nothing:
paid, took it and left.

After a certain age
you learn to expect what you get.
   ~mce
 Oct 2015 Sirenes
Mike Essig
if you can
make poems

pellucid  
             limpid
clear & direct
as fine cut glass

but

(simultaneously)

fuzzy as
the stuffing
in a Teddy Bear's
head

occasionally

something might
actually get said

  ~mce
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