Wednesday 24 July 2013

BORED WITH DOGS


THE ADVENTURES OF GOD AND STEVE, PART ONE:
“BORED WITH DOGS”



“Dum de dum,” muttered God, as he doodled away at his latest creation. He was in no hurry, and wanted to try and get things right. As he hadn’t invented time yet, he had loads of it to spare. He had only just invented irony too, and was still enjoying the novelty.
            How they would marvel at all the work he had got done in seven days, while they themselves would be constantly running out of time. God had a good old chuckle to himself at that one.
            “What’re you up to now?” Asked Steve, who God had created on the second day to keep him company. Steve had originally been a moth, but had been eaten by something God called a ‘cat’, so God had made him into a medium sized man thing with two legs and a tail. No cats had attempted to eat him since then. God was actually thinking of turning Steve into a donkey the next day, but he wasn’t sure what a donkey was yet.
            “It’s like a dog,” God told him. It’s a new kind of dog.”
            “What does it do?” Asked Steve.
            “Not much,” Admitted God, “But it looks nice. Here,” God held up a preliminary sketch for Steve to see.
            “What’s up with its tail?” Asked Steve. “It looks like it’s stuck to its back.”
            “I got bored with dogs,” God confessed. “Tails flapping about all over the place. So I glued this one to its back.”
            “It looks like it’s showing its arse off,” Commented Steve.
            “Maybe it is,” Said God defensively, though he hadn’t really given it that much thought. He just wanted it to look pretty.
            “He looks quite happy,” Commented Steve, “What’s it called anyway?”
            “This,” God proudly pronounced, “Is called a ‘wolf’”.
            “Cool,” Said Steve, “Is it going to have legs as well?”
            “Oh yeah,” Mused God, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

                                                                            *


Monday 22 July 2013

BORED NOW

(Did this one yesterday before it popped out, then forgot to post it)...


“Does anyone know what it’s going to be?”
Well, chances are
It will be:
Born with a silver spoon up its arse
Burdened with the weight of unrealistic expectations
Christened the saviour of the monarchy
Have its future decided for it
Worshipped by the press
Harassed by the paparazzi
Paraded in front of the world like the second coming
And given more opportunities to succeed daily
Than most of us get in our entire lives
But
It may also
Have big ears
A fat nose,
And a shitty backside
Above all else

IT’S JUST A FUCKING BABY

Sunday 14 July 2013

FOR STEVE

We met Steve on holiday
It was evening
And he appeared
Outside the restaurant
That overlooked the sea
And without warning,
Shat, or puked,
I forget which,
By the side of the road

His attempts to gain entry
Were met with disgust
And a sharp kick in the guts
From the staff
But still he persisted
Wailing
For food
Or attention
We didn’t know
We didn’t speak his language

Eventually, Steve gave up
The begging
The pitiful noise
And slunk around the corner
Into an alley
Where he lay down,
We thought, for a sleep

He was silent for a while,
So we carried on,
Felt sorry,
Eat food, and
Drank
And noticed that Steve hadn’t moved
For a while

In time, another cat came along
Sniffed the air
And looked at Steve
With big sad eyes that said:
“Steve? Steve?”
Those eyes already knew
That it was too late
That all was not well with Steve

It left quietly, perhaps
To go and tell the others
That Steve was dead

Later, we heard the scrape
Of metal on concrete
And looked out, to see
Nothing
Steve had gone

Shovelled away into the night

THIS IS HOW IT ENDS

This is how the world ends
Jammed on a train
Outdoing each other with blurts of noise
Rustling papers
Scrolling aimlessly
Through the latest lists of nothing
Dying for a piss
Or for some bloody leg room
Some relief from this dull skullache
Some relief from tomorrow

Living in between is not enough

Tuesday 9 July 2013

COVER FOR CONNECTING SOMETHING WITH NOTHING

Due in August from Influx Press, featuring writing by Mark Beechill and others...

Available to pre-order at a special price from http://www.influxpress.com/

TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT

TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT


The sad thing about relationships
Is that you just end up lying about things
And editing the truth
Because it’s easier than having the argument you know will ensue
Where neither of you will back down
And all you wanted to do in the first place
Was tell someone
-just one person-
Exactly how you feel
Is it wrong to expect a bit of fucking comfort
A modicum of sympathy?
Apparently, we are too close for comfort

Or maybe

It’s just me

DOVER’S GOT TALENT

DOVER’S GOT TALENT 



Wednesday morning,
It’s pissing down with rain
And Dover town centre stinks of cabbages
My soul takes a plunge at the bus stop
As I stand waiting for something that may never arrive
And a small child dithers in front of me,
Humming tunelessly
While noisily jamming crisps in its mouth:
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Dover’s got talent.
Meanwhile, all of the gawping mutants stumble past
And I wonder what the fuck I’m supposed to do with all of this
And more importantly,

When it will be over…