"leftist" poems
Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother **** ****er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes **** you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right **** dunal trumpf lunatic leftist ****phile ******* ******* in your *** your ****** *** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you ****you donkey ****s you lying **** comrade Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother **** ****er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes **** you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right culy dunal trumpf lunatic leftist ****phile ******* ******* in your *** your ****** *** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you ****you donkey ****s you lying **** comrade Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother **** ****er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes **** you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right culy dunal trumpf lunatic leftist ****phile ******* ******* in your *** your ****** *** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you ****you donkey ****s you lying **** comrade Lefttard fascist libtard Russian troll loony mother **** ****er freaks stupid idiotic childish rant Antifa **** troll comrade idiots like you tide pod generation snowflakes **** you Marxist serial felon MSM useful idiots street justice fanboy alt.right culy dunal trumpf lunatic leftist ****phile ******* ******* in your *** your ****** *** loser freak pos pack heat ammosexuals smh screwball lefties community organizers trumptards professional agitators if we could ban idiots like you ****you donkey ****s you lying **** comrade
Employ all caps and strings of exclamation marks ad lib
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC
Sag my corpse
in 32 degree weather
through the city of God
where paraplegics dream of running.
“Oh Rhodesian mercenary,”
humble my soul again
like in C(hi)(ca)ongo.
But remember
The revolution starts
on my mama’s bed
at half past six.
So excuse me while I smoke my drink like a Brooklyn Leftist from the 40’s tramples
burning cigarettes on cold pavements where codeine and Sprite
make any Tuesday fabulous because we already suffered from (and for) the goods of mankind.
But before you read me the history of Hatchepsut;
I learned the art of man within the confines of FCC regulations after my ‘Pa threw ******* out the window and made life in the cell not mundane by telephoning philosophical-entendres
that tomorrow never happened.
He too was from the blood of the ancestors whose bodies were charred on as goods—
whose children now char their bodies with the goods of the goddess of Victory—
the official trademark for the lost Exodus—the blood and blue moribund—
sagging pyrrhic victories in 32 degree weather as homage to their charred ghost (fore)fathers
who preyed to the city of God for bread
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC
you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak,
well, attire me in slavic myths and
i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too
for a helium bubble to become a comedian,
i know a jittery ******* addiction
when i see one...
if one thing the catholic schooling system
taught me was how to avoid
sniffing glue and how to recognise
a Freudian apostle - still, with all
the hippy **** you'd think
sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism
prescribed with paracetamol,
catholic education just said: no no.
**** me it's the late 90s and we're talking
post-Chernobyl antics...
but that's how i see the left, leftist politics,
the right
utilises prefixes and suffixes in the
old stance of simple pre- pro-
anti-
qua-
-so so...
the left? oh they're right in there...
their prefixes are
Marxist-
liberal-
Hegelian-
whatnot...
they don't
use abstract prefixes,
their prefixes
are concrete,
they want the porridge in their mouth
to ensure a slur that never comes,
among a range of onomatopoeias they argue
from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd,
via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech
to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother,
****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method;
i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo
experimenting, it's called experimenting with
thought rather than practising with will,
former no chance of footstep evaluation for
cult status imitable -
the left intellectual
has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro -
it has to be concrete layered and a shut off
perfect architecture without fault -
it can't be what it is -
con-
has to be conservative
pro-
has to be socialist
you once said legitimate
transparency - but you didn't say legislation -
well, the left understood it as legislation,
the right too wanted legitimate transparency -
the green party said we could have neither
but could have the replanting of a thousand
oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first
oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest...
b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye -
hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity
too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's
fingernail toothpick!
at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of
place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes!
ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding!
*** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
dear western society,
no one cares for the peasant who provides
the pheasant for the royal table -
but when the pheasant isn't there -
the royal orchestra cries out:
where's the pheasant! where's the pheasant!
as if both pheasant and peasant were alike...
indeed, the peasant isn't there to
provide the pheasant for the feast-
and with such vitriol you proudly say:
once these roaming stars that go against
all reason in cosmology disappear, you'll
know that i was here - you'll know -
perhaps the pyramids were only overshadowed
by the Eiffel tower, but many more pyramids
were mentally tattooed into the minds of men -
and rose far greater and were more
harder to overcome that man took to
climbing Everest - stone by stone his legs
encountered a new form of laying brick-on-brick -
for if western society deems me mad
to purge the old hopes of colonial rule - then
i have already chastised my body to have no heart,
and let it be carried on course toward Iran
or Afghanistan - and there entombed -
i hope Western society loves its humour as much
as it loves it's panic and paranoia and picnics
of waiting for the far right to wake up -
and this liberal-leftist mush of kind words to
be shoved into Disneyland of other fantasia.
yours sincerely,
Vermin.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 10:12 PM UTC
You're a leftist and a Marxist and a socialist and you're right
There ain't no politics for real justice in this all condemning strife
So when the cause goes to war
And you're floored by the flaws
As the totalitarians scoff the Trotskyists
With their insufferable prejudice you abhor
Stand firm to the fore
And demand something more
Cause their aint no justice in this life
Till we all answer to those silenced
By the ringing of that call
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 8:00 AM UTC
a rubix cube upon my desk
with half the colors matching
near a wayward garden gnome
what plots might he be hatching
contemplations fill my head
of life and all its meanings
a conservative at heart
despite my leftist leanings
someday I’ll find the leprechaun
hiding at the rainbow’s end
I’ll take that ******** lucky charms
before he runs again
memories haunt my waking mind
not sure if they're even real
vertigo and déjà vu are all that I can feel
I think I’ll take another hit
that should finally stop the spinning
as my pet rock races Charlie Brown
the rubix cube is winning
Apr 8, 2010
Apr 8, 2010 at 7:06 PM UTC
India is the biggest democratic state
The voters always decide her fate
The fate of a political party depends on its popularity
The powerful and tactful party gets the majority
One party discusses the construction of Rama’s temple
Its political, hidden agenda is very simple
The other parties talk about secularity
It always tries to woo the considerable minority
The other leftist parties often talk about the poor
But they never get their votes for sure
Before the election liquor flows like a river
Voters get money notes in a beautiful cover
The luckiest party grabs the power
The elected members try to climb the tower
Corruption seems to be the order of the day
No part is likely to show the right way
In democracy, parties are meant
To be different. But that is not quite apparant
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 5:00 AM UTC
How can animal rights be defended,
not defending the rights of the unborn children...
How can the rights of the unborn children be defended,
not defending the poor or the hungry children...
Oh, the right, oh, the left...
Conservative jerks will call me names like a "leftist",
And on the leftist side, they will accuse me of being a rightist.
I am not a prophet in my country.
1.2.2021
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 1:56 PM UTC
Entanglement: First Poem of the Day
We awake simultaneously, syncopated.
Guests next door,
Can't risk love making noises at five am,
*A noisy first coffee of the day,
An oops, unintended,
Guest wake-up call.*
Nope.
So, instead,
We ear-insert our buds, white flowers,
You, to the Land of Thrones, yay,
Me, to the land, nay,
The island of my
Secret poetry life.
I'm carried there on music-waves,
A Motet For Five Voices and
Jason Mraz, Tracy Chapman, Billy Joel,
Pandora's music box escapees.
Pandora's an oddball shuffler,
Just like me.
You read/listen/sleep head-resting upon
My good arm, my cunning one,^
And I leftist type write, hunt and peck at 6:00 Am,
And tho we will not fluids exchange,
I smile at our white wires all crossed up
As metaphor for our
Heart's happy entanglement.
^ Psalm 137
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.
6:15Am
June292013
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
"I can tell you that Dada was a leftist,
anti-bourgeois, non-Art birthed from WWI
and not some aleatory root to postmodernism
off-shot from a lurid acid rain.
I know that diffraction can be seen
on horizons in the early morning hours
of summer along smooth or dentate curvatures
and that it can have hues of blue, purple and
a soft-handed massage of orange that gingerly
applies pressure to your retinas with sugar-water.
If only eyes had lips that opened and closed.
"It is said that action is the birth of Manyness
and that non-action brings one's soul back to the Sage Mind,
the universe of Oneness, the cup longing to be fulfilled and how
upon brim overflow it longs to be empty once again
because of the relationship between Yin and Yang
and how one cannot Be without the other
and why perspective can change "full" to "empty"
so that the vicious cycle can never truly, truly end.
The difference between French Vanilla ice cream
and plain Vanilla is the degree of creaminess.
Fill up a bathtub and let it soak into my skin.
"There is no way for me to avoid being prolix about the things
I speak about in normal, day-to-day conversation. Science and reason
have accursed me to traverse this reality with the utmost care and precision
of language and society has forced pseudo-logic down my throat like
a bird screeching as it is forced past my pharynx and larynx.
Its sounds are amplified, beak-blared from my nostrils, and its wings are violent,
stretched against my neck skin, creating a pale-skinned, ship anchor image from my shoulders up.
I'll try to sing for you when you reach my trapdoor, I don't wish to eat you.
"I do not believe in anything because with everything comes a something,
a reason for its being. They are, 'from reason,' 'in reason,' and/or, 'for reason.'
There is no escaping this thought.
There is no escaping criticism.
I will find the Truth, mathematically calculated to infinity
from knowable circumstance and perception.
I will know everything and I will believe nothing."
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 9:02 AM UTC
It all started here;
Some thirty students-
Minds controlled by their puppeteer,
Walked in clueless
My mind came colorful, progressive-
Only my beliefs sprouted!
The seed had already been expressive
Just- the stem was clouded
The renaissance fertilized the soil
Dry, cracked, barren, deprived;
Destitute of the benevolent oil-
Used to awaken thoughts: revived
But what truly blossomed my bud-
Were the French philosophes,
Who's blue, liberal blood-
Solidified my leftist approach
I have always been the optimist;
Through many deaths and rebirths-
I knew it wasn't the apocalypse,
And instead kept the beauty of earth
Because I filled my life with fascination,
My opinions bloomed:bright and rich.
The rain could not cleanse my veneration,
Not to a diety, but to my democratic itch
My petals are strong to hold bees-
Who cannot fly or make honey
It's my civic duty to fight this disease
That in life- one is subject to money
However, I am not just one of Paine's flowers,
I am an independent with liberal powers.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 1:39 AM UTC
“It's very difficult not to come across as a supremacist when there are so many black inferiorists around.”
― David Bullard
Look!..he's a leech, he's a parasite
That black man is draining the Taxpayers
He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled
Look at him, educated and refined, arrogant as black ****
Go get him, the ******* parasite cheating the working classes
Why not tell the ******* truth
That a white family of thieves broke into the flat of a black man
Something that they had done once already and caught but let off
Because they were neighbours and pitied, police were not involved
They did it again and were called thieving working class scums
Up comes hail and thunder and war
Their Militant leftist friends say it Anti-monarchy Revolution
Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes
Go get him, his life destroy, cast him asunder, hound him to hell
Down with the rich, this is war, people's power, this is democracy
LIES, HOGWASH, DISINGENUOUS ******** RACIST CRAP
They can't bear to see a black man do well
They can't bear a respectable, decent, confident black man
To then stand up and call them out to their faces was the ultimate
They are supreme and all else must fall before them or put down
A black that is not a Black Inferiorist must be discredited at all cost
If the situation was reversed
And a black thief steals from an equivalent white with same status
( He comes from a rich family, they say they are titled )
Would the reactions be the same
(Say's victim is a parasite and a leech, robbing the working classes )
Honesty says NO, you know it and we all know it
(Supremacy has taught him that all people of color are threats irrespective of their behavior. Capitalism has taught him that, at all costs, his property can and must be protected. Patriarchy has taught him that his masculinity has to be proved by the willingness to conquer fear through aggression)
But the black man becomes a leech, a parasite a threat
For standing up to white criminals and daring to call them out
Devious political chicanery is unleashed and our Supremacists
All rally up, totting falsehood and misinformation to cover truths
Why don't see any Class war action in Kensington and Chelsea
What really bothers some of you is simple - and you corrupt others
Blacks must always be inferior and if they are not, you fight secretly and covertly!
Because only you have the God given right to live decently
Only you have the right to air your opinion or disagreement
Only you have the right to call it as you think you see it.
And you'll fight tooth and nail and with everything else to keep
it that way!
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 10:02 AM UTC
Paratroopers free fall,
'chutes coiled and caught in a grease ball afro curl
reaching down perplexed ****** frames.
Diligent chortling mimes trapped in handmade indecision cages, tapping a telling tune of tired games played day after day.
A right brained boy with a head full of clout
miscommunication with a leftist expat from the north
to the south.
Jostled connections send out fizzling sentences
through blown speakers and an overheated circuit -
Bored of the excuses whispers the nameless
without a reason there isn't a purpose.
Shoot an accusing glare past Father Time
overlooking treasonous discouraging crimes
Open those whale blubber caked eyes
to the other side.
It's not what this has done to you
but what this has done to us.
The hitchhiker gave up, traded his thumb for a seat on the bus.
Never was he lost, but given more than one chance.
He, no, she, no we
were thrown away with his walking stick and his waterproof nap sack.
Will we cross this road again?
And pick up from where we began?
Or never turn back?
Always was he lost, but given one too many of a chance
But was it worth it?
Upholding the "right and proper" stance?
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:08 PM UTC
damp roads at night pushing and pulsing light
whip soiled water onto pack and *** from back bicycle wheels rotating furiously out of purgatory out of bleary eyes of incandescence and towards the same eyes lit by patriotism or in another sense incarceration
wheels spinning straight and directionless
sore legs denying illusion of purpose purported by a between eyebrows headache only achieved through a blindfolded walk down memory lane keys jingling from a carabiner and a misplaced confidence self corrected before it was too late to realize that reality is difficult to handle with all 5 senses and a distinction between right and wrong and being left handed but not leftist because the only thing worse that being dumb is being spineless invertebrate vampires killing sheep in the prairie and funding proxy wars while fighting for who?
wheels spinning round and round keep insisting on idealism
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
*i've become as lazy as composers
when writing titles,
example of tautology is as lazy
as beethoven's ninth symphony...
yeah, grand... but what a dull title!*
so i was reading this article
about bim adewunmi
about the singer laura mvula...
and you know how it goes...
leftist liberals tend to write
tautological spaghetti,
likened to bim's example:
'short-haired, dark-skinned
black girl', bim, we get it...
could have said rancid cinnamon
for all i care...
tautology is a logic of adding
more salt than the salt required
so it doesn't taste too salty when it
does... i could also proof-read
other journalists...
restaurant critics are the best laughs,
esp. when reshuffled like
a ****** cabinet of the labour party
to the opinion columns...
then it's not called opinions section
but table talk... a bit like saying:
do i woo the sea back into this oyster
before i gulp-down-the-hatch-it?
well what do you expect,
free democracy and subsequently
free journalism has a judas kiss /
brutus stab at everything,
why not laugh at it as a useless
get up in the morning read a newspaper
be pulverised by stories from kingdoms
far far away and opinions of people
who'd send ******** dubbed
soldiers off to the slaughter fields of Flanders
so they can keep erectile egos ready
for a salary readied...
journalists always divert the heat & fire
to the politicians... while
journalists get away with satirising themselves,
and i dare say, they are the clumsiest
satirists of themselves,
the most wonky ready to dismantle itself
noumenons in existence.
- journalist: huh?
- the public - (elvis') aha uh um (frolicking
without the stiff upper lip).
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 7:50 AM UTC
i find it strange to be politically correct,
without actually exercising any political
career-motive as a member of a government...
because that's what's we're being sold:
to be politically correct, without a career in
politics. doubly strange, to foster non-antagonising
views on everyday matters,
to later realise that whoever we're antagonising
from an environmental bias (rather than
a personal bias) we will never share a dinner with...
so like our opinions mattering in the first place
was by-and-large, just a media hoax to
ensure we were all prescribed the safety of
walking the tight-rope... and never really
designating ourselves the freedom of the constitutional
rights - this leftist bias remains intact,
on the canvas of freedom of speech, however
that freedom allows us to see rural endeavours in talk,
the once appreciated freedom is becoming a polarised
freedom to name & shame... a media hammer or nail...
because it's only freedom when enough people
agree with "us", to allow a bicep expression of
being backed up like some Spartacus...
i mean, i don't agree with most expression,
but i wouldn't **** the hornet's nest with the media
frenzy to appear politically correct... when
so few of us actually have any political power....
being sold free speech, to be later curbed with
political correctness is a bit cancerous....
given that free speech is equated to the voting X
from the age of mass illiteracy...
i don't see how free speech became a vehicle for
acquiring constrained speech dynamic -
when did we forget the chastity of speaking the airy-fairy
things in life on the informal basis, and when did we
become so ****** friendless, estranged, outsiders
to everything that matters... and now, supposedly
between butcher and greengrocer, talking about
the weather in cocktail smocking and bow-tie?
free speech gave us the rights to not ask for political powers...
on whatever governmental tier...
prescribing us political correctness has given the everyday
John the delusion that he can process political power...
the once famous strive for speaking what the hell you want
but not wanting political power changed into
being prescribed political correctness but no political power...
so i ask you... what's the point of being politically
correct, if you gain no political power,
unless you're a rat, a snitch, spying on your neighbour
to grass them out? because that's what political correctness bred,
snitches... those given political correctness laws
were never given any other political power...
added to the fact that they wouldn't have said anything
interesting / provocative anyway.
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
#**Leftist poetry *****
I don't want to behold your innards.
I don't want to be forced to view your organs.
I couldn't care less
about your perverted sexuality
or your identity grievances.
Your biological and socioeconomic reality
is dull beyond all conception.
Your unpunctuated free verse
is insult added to injury
and displays
your hatred of Liberty.
Your merely materialist analyses bore me.
There is no excuse for you.
You abhor all that is RIGHT.
You hate GOD, FAMILY, and GENDER.
You also hate the Lord Jesus Christ.
Therefore you, in your rebellion against Divine Order
are DOOMED and ******
however . . . I will continue
to pray
for your sorry ***
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
Where is the sound
That once gave meaning
To my name.
It seems lost in the echoes
The sound of a
Crying shame.
I try to pinpoint the time
Channels I was
Passing through
When I could interpret pre-echo
When each syllable
Rang true
When my offspring was purer
Relative to
Innate impurities.
Girl, boy vastly interrupted.
So much for blood
As a surety.
Belly fire lessens with years.
Caution blows back
In the wind.
Flirting with status quo delusions.
Slogans & logos
Slowly rescind.
Pure thought tainted with church & state.
Leftist & Right Wing views
Scientifically spliced.
This new world creation seldom takes sides.
Calculates the outcome & always
Dresses nice.
I’m halfway there, queasy still
Rhetorical views beginning to
Make sense.
Cautious malaise on either side.
Starch chaffing neck
Outcome offense.
I occasionally hear my voice
That blew with caution
In the wind.
Volcano dormant still pushes the crust.
Delusions sicken me back
To the fringe.
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 3:44 PM UTC
Everyone deserves to be accepted unless you're white, a male, straight and stayed the gender you were born with and don't agree with the views I have. I have the right to my opinion but if you're not voting for Bernie Sanders you need to be beaten to a pulp. Our opinions need to be heard and yours needs to be silenced with an air horn. If you believe in killing terrorist you're a bigot and if you don't believe in abortion you're stupid and 36 weeks is a proper time to abort the baby. Accept me for all my genders although you don't even know half of them. Everyone is racist subconsciously and educate yourself to find out why because I don't need to educate you myself really because I have no supporting evidence and quite frankly I'm talking out of my *** I absolutely despise white people although I have ,German, Irish, British and French ancestry but they're still pieces of **** for what they did back in the before I was even born! You don't like me although I'm black NOT because I'm black as a matter of fact you never made a comment on my race but you're still racist. I don't care what people think as I'm outside protesting a bakery who won't make cakes for gay people. Women are oppressed in this country, the men who lose their kids in a divorce settlement, being told that women can't **** or abuse them mean nothing to us it's all a myth. I'm a loud mouth, unappealing, racist, violent controlling perpetrator but just love me!!
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
Upended
Uplifted
The boats on the river
Are a drifting
But where are you tonight
My sweet Peggy Sue?
Air smelled of
Sweet mint
When you're away babe
I can't get my mind to think
You're the one on the brink
But where are you tonight
My sweet Peggy Sue?
Good hands
Hold no idle molds
Whenever you were around
I never did what I was told
Caterpillar on the fence
Crow sliding through the crooked moon
Where are you tonight
My sweet and only Peggy Sue?
I asked myself the other day
Why was it you felt the need to go away?
Dusty books sit across my bookshelf
I slip on my trusty wolf's pelt
The fire is cracking, my money is stacking
But where are you tonight
My sweet Peggy Sue?
Out in the distance
A horse kicks its hind legs
Crystal combs her honey dew hair
As Henry flips through his magazine
I'm the leftist corner store
Sipping on a coffee, hurting to the core,
Wondering where she is tonight
My sweet Peggy Sue?
Corn fed whiskey raised
Stars in the sky wink n' cry
Every lover knows
They've got to share a slice of the pie
These gravel roads, these picket signs
Are pointing me in a direction
I never intended to go
But what have I got to show
Other than this empty glass and wrinkled bow?
Oh' where are you tonight
Sweet Peggy Sue?
The forests are on fire
The oceans are overflowing too
The sky is shifting from light blue
To a different kind of hue
She sits on the bench
Her legs crossed, her hair tossed
Oh but where are you tonight
My lovely Peggy Sue?
I've got one breath left
And I'll use it to find you
Mother churns the butter
As father stirs the stew
You're lost and away
With my soul and my pay
I ask it one last time:
Where are you tonight
My one and only cruel Peggy Sue?
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
its a cat and mouse game
with a variety of circus acts to entertain me:
1. giggly, touchy, curly haired cutie
2. nonchalant, arrogant, nose pierced *******
3. bat **** crazy, rebellious leftist
4. jealous, overprotective teenage boy who likes giving black eyes
i know you care deep down
for more than just your friends
the one act i'd like to be in
is the one where i hold your hand through the smoke
and the one where i bandage you up,
by the end of the night
-λεγε τι εγινε;
-can i help βασικα;
-i just kinda want a hug y'know
-i'd give you one
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 4:03 AM UTC
I sit in a bar
with Miss Pinkie;
her son, who is a copper,
is getting the drinks.
She looks at me
and says:
we are just friends
if he asks
(as if I was going
to tell him
I was rogering his mother)
and don't talk politics
or say you write poetry.
I will be
the perfect gentleman,
I reply.
Her son comes
with the drinks:
a whiskey for his mother,
a beer for me
and a lemonade
for himself;
he sits down
and gazes at me.
So, Benedict,
what do you do
for a living?
I'm a nurse,
I work with your mum.
He looks at Miss Pinkie,
then at me.
What do you do?
I ask,
giving him
the Mr Innocence stare.
I'm a police officer;
aiming for C.I.D.
He sits upright
in the chair,
brushing a hand
over his dark hair.
What do you think
of the IRA?
Miss Pinkie stares at me
as if I'd let wind go in public.
They're a murderous lot,
he says;
you don't
support them
do you?
No, I don't support them;
I agree with their objectives,
but not their methods
of achieving
those objectives.
He looks at Miss Pinkie
and she looks at us both
as if she didn't know
who we were.
Both their objectives
and methods
are objectionable.
He takes a sip
of his lemonade
as if the very words
were distasteful
in his mouth;
I sip my beer;
his mother gulps
her whiskey.
What do you do
when you're not
being a nurse
and involved in
“leftist” politics?
I listen to music:
Wagner, Delius and Mahler,
and that crowd.
High-Brow stuff;
I like Johnny Mathis myself.
He wears a smug expression
and looks at his mother;
she looks at her glass.
What else do you do
apart from listening to music?
he asks.
I write poems
and read books.
You're not a queer
are you?
He stares at me
suspiciously,
then looks
at his mother.
Would I be
with your mum
if I were?
Miss Pinkie looks at me;
her blue eyes
are large as a cow's.
What do you mean?
he says.
Another drink?
I say,
another lemonade?
He means,
Miss Pinkie says,
we're good friends,
and he's not
that way inclined.
He stares at me
with a hard glare,
but I don't mind.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC