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"backchat" poems
This week I have been mostly petrified, and in between such periods I have been jelly. Do you remember the action of freeze and thaw? Surely you do, it’s the one clear spot in the fogged grey landscape of your old school geography. Well that is the state of me. I am eroding. When this process began I cannot tell, I only know that it continues. I like to think that the fragments of my self are at least collecting somewhere, perhaps in my socks. If I had the will I might tip out the sediment nightly and store it in a glass jar by the bed. I am of course losing weight, though not so much weight as gravitas. Conventional scales won’t register the change as I have tried to explain to my doctor, but he smiles the smile of an indulgent uncle then writes me another little green ticket for little blue pills. When the last essential ballast is crumbled and gone Into that that jar, nicely striped, my substance will rise like a cheap balloon, leaving something empty and indifferent and insensitive. Hooray is what I say! I, or that thing that is I minus self, might at last succeed by blundering on into money regardless, by making the right decisions. Judgement is right because there’s no backchat inside to say otherwise. Bring it on.
0
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 5:32 PM UTC
Lift Off
We can call it today or last week or seek out another name, but who loved me in the Bleak? I ain't talking midwinter nor the middle of summer I'm talking back then and that's the backchat of sad men these be the lonely only when will they know? before it's too late? I am in denial Something to do with the pineal gland? Fukin grand when you've no idea if your brain's in your head or stuffed up your rear. hitched me a ride on the right side of the ebb tide things are looking better now.
0
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 4:01 AM UTC
Wright flight
Is Milka in? I ask her mother who has opened the door of the farmhouse. Yes, but she's in the bath at the moment, but come in Benny, if you don't mind waiting. So I go into the warm kitchen, sit on one of the kitchen chairs. Would you like something? her mother asks smiling, to eat or drink? Tea would be welcome, I say, taking in her smile. She nods, turns around, walks to a cupboard, gets down a mug. I watch her move, her motherly hips, her cosy behind, the loose dress she is wearing. She turns and says, sugar? or are you sweet enough? Two please, not quite sweet enough yet, I say. She laughs, and I note her motherly ******* held in loosely by her bra and dress. She'll not be long in the bath, her mother says, we can hope. I have a vision of Milka in the bath, wishing I could be washing her back with a sponge or flannel, kissing her, and holding her. You are patient with her, Benny, her mother says, I lose my temper with her and have to bite my tongue; not that she does, not like that with her father though, he'd not take her backchat, he'd soon tan her behind as old as she is. I say nothing, take in her mother's hands as they go about preparing my mug of tea, the ringed finger, the red washed out skin, the nails well cared for despite the housework. Going anywhere nice today? she says, eyeing me, a smile there. Cinema probably, new Elvis film, I reply, thinking of the previous Saturday in Milka's bed while her mother was in town shopping, her father on the farm, her brothers fishing out some place. That'll be nice, she says, where is that girl? time she takes. She gives me my mug of tea and I sip it. She walks out to the passage. I watch her go and sense an inner warming glow.
0
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 3:33 AM UTC
AN INNER GLOW 1964.
Is Milka in? I ask her mother who has opened the door of the farmhouse. Yes, but she's in the bath at the moment, but come in Benny, if you don't mind waiting. So I go into the warm kitchen, sit on one of the kitchen chairs. Would you like something? her mother asks smiling, to eat or drink? Tea would be welcome, I say, taking in her smile. She nods, turns around, walks to a cupboard, gets down a mug. I watch her move, her motherly hips, her cosy behind, the loose dress she is wearing. She turns and says, sugar? or are you sweet enough? Two please, not quite sweet enough yet, I say. She laughs, and I note her motherly ******* held in loosely by her bra and dress. She'll not be long in the bath, her mother says, we can hope. I have a vision of Milka in the bath, wishing I could be washing her back with a sponge or flannel, kissing her, and holding her. You are patient with her, Benny, her mother says, I lose my temper with her and have to bite my tongue; not that she does, not like that with her father though, he'd not take her backchat, he'd soon tan her behind as old as she is. I say nothing, take in her mother's hands as they go about preparing my mug of tea, the ringed finger, the red washed out skin, the nails well cared for despite the housework. Going anywhere nice today? she says, eyeing me, a smile there. Cinema probably, new Elvis film, I reply, thinking of the previous Saturday in Milka's bed while her mother was in town shopping, her father on the farm, her brothers fishing out some place. That'll be nice, she says, where is that girl? time she takes. She gives me my mug of tea and I sip it. She walks out to the passage. I watch her go and sense an inner warming glow.
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99
I know you are a gossip mongers And you know I'm detesting you, And you know I'm not pleased with you, You always judge me day and night And you follow me from left to right. When will you stop to judge me? When will you stop to follow me? When I fail you are busy disseminating that tale Through your sinful lips that murmurs around Now my life's beautiful story would surely fall unto the ground. Gossip, gossip, gossip everywhere You exhibits your evil colours, I know you are a gossip mongers here and there. When will you see a right things I have done? And do you know your bad character will be gone? Enough, enough with your nonsense chitchat Stop with all your constant backchat Instead, mind your own lives and be fruitful For our world to be restful and peaceful. #EDM.
0
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 9:51 PM UTC
A GOSSP MONGERS