Four Poems by John Doyle

Lasting Impressions

 

Now we've surrendered the testcard -

Muldoon used his knife to fight

alien lifeforms 

who brought laser-guns. Tonight

 

there's nothing left - but

infinity -

after

closedown.

 

It was inevitable

don't you agree, Leviticus?

I'll write my lasting impressions down in blood on $50 dollar bills - 

commit to memory;

 

Wish me luck -

it’s a long way to walk to church

with my horses

breaking their hind-legs

Crazy Times at the Staff Barbecue and Friday Night Drinks

 

With Mac from Milwaukee 

who looks a lot older than he is, 

 

and hells bells he's already pushing 63,

and Donnie from accounts with his apologetic nervous laugh, 

 

bad breath, and a need to say "for my sins" after everything he says.

With Lisa so sullen her mom and pop drove nails through her soul

 

when they conceived her, 

paintball weekends give her the chance

 

to shoot-down all us inherently evil men - 

but this is just a barbecue, so her vengeance

 

brews and spits in contagious silence

with interns who say even less than nothing, 

 

but their smirks

suggest ivy-league phasing, 

 

lemon-sweaters draped on shoulders,

and sponsors called Mr. Wentworth.

 

These are the days of wine and roses

I say to Mac from Milwaukee, the cream cheese

 

freeloading crevasses 

on his lips.

 

Crazy times, Mac;

here, use a napkin for God sake

 

Bland

 

Pornography is so bland,

nuclear war is so bland,

thoughts of infinite torment as Hell rages all around me,

so bland, so passé...

 

After a while, frogspawn appeared near the riverbank,

trains stuttered past, 

someone spoke about Bobby Sands and Margaret Thatcher

on the radio. I knew life would go down-hill one second past midnight

Everyone From The Ramones is Dead

 

A cat approaching its seventh life

wants to see eternity through my tyres, it comes close,

a nearby fox saying little, watches, nibbles its nails, saying less than a nearby owl, who whispers Good God

at the blueness of it all, how can it still be this bright, this side of barren life?

Nearby cities say a little bit more,

how violently bills come through their door

as a cat breaking through midnight’s chokehold 

on little things,

bigger things,

though most of all

this suddenness of nothing, waking up having just remembered, everyone from The Ramones is dead

John Doyle is from County Kildare in Ireland. He returned to writing poetry in February 2015 after a gap of nearly 7 years. Since then he's had 6 poetry collections published, with a 7th collection, "Isolated Incidents" due to be released by Pski's Porch in Summer 2021.