ILAM
Then someone threw some orangeade, I don’t
Remember who on whom – the usual fits
And flares … but something changed that can’t and won’t
Swing back. His time arrived to take the hits –
The unexpected role never became
The status he’d assumed he would assume.
Those watching could not think on him the same
As when the doors first opened to that room.
It should have been so different: endless nooks
Revealed by twilight escapades for boys
Still young enough, they thought. But poison took …
Somewhere amidst the usual bluff and noise.
A joke, a push, and someone lost their nerve.
The sharpest spike puts paid the learning curve.
NEWCASTLETON
A shamesick failed-safe underaged turntail
Tells red-faced post-hubristic truths in tears
Which twist to further fodder, serve to nail
His reputation to embittered ears
Of local bullies looking for a laugh.
He’d lightly, quaintly lied, so would be stoned
For entertainment, while the fatted calf
Could breathe again, a sacrifice postponed.
That night, fed up on coke and soor plooms, burnt
And bucked by friends alike, he dares to hope
He’ll yet be left to live with lessons learnt,
And fondly takes that last frayed end of rope.
The sirens moan, the harpies howl and wail,
You said you could - you can’t, you foul, you fail.
No comments:
Post a Comment