Five Poems by Paul Tristram

 

Clingy-less

 

… as a child I would always

let… go… of… the… balloon

… and watch it drift… away.

As the other kids screamed

 

“No, you fool, whatcha doing?”

 

… it always moved sideways,

and upwards… at a slope

… a delicate, wonderful glide.

 

Soon after, they’d pop theirs,

sometimes on purpose,

oftentimes just playing too rough,

or occasionally each others.

 

There would be tears and upset,

youthful anger and resentment

… except off me, I’d be calm,

I was busy learning to untangle

                     …

ready for the clingy Adult World.

 

Claude At 28

 

And the dirty waters of the Seine

… refused his [Final] offering.

One must go on…

and a Creator must Create

Pathways… if not ‘Out’ of…

then ‘Through’ his own Misery.

Inner Strength is rifle-notches

clocked-up against Adversity

… Diamonds form

from Intense Heat and Pressure

… and the Straining of the Soul

will Make or Break an Artist…

separating wheat from the chaff

… dime-a-dozens from the Gold.

 

In Between Chapters

“Do you remember that time,

back last Autumn…

you were stood staring

intently out of the window.

I approached, and asked

if you were busy with work

(thinking up Poetry)…

you replied ‘Speak away’

… and I completely froze?”

“Ah, the ‘Augury’, yes…

I recall your Crossroads.”

“You said ‘Ask the Universe’

and all those birds appeared

out of nowhere, like seconds

after you smiled and nodded

out towards the back garden.”

“A decision needed making

… and, I advised you

(If memory serves correct)

to take the easier Pathway

because I like you so much.”

“But, you also said that

the more difficult Road

would end up being far more

Rewarding in the long run…

that I would be Tested,

and if I Braved through it all

… I would be Gifted a

gentle, uncomplicated Pride.”

“…mMm… ”

“You already know, doncha?”

 

That Clock’s Been Tough Today

 

That (Unasked For) ‘Compassion’

feels ‘Cheese-Grater’

… there are Windows and Masks

Inside as well as Outside…

even when Discarded they Remain.

She spent the entire day

(Before The Nervous Breakdown)

… peering Within…

and everyone there let her, tsk tsk.

“5 More Minutes” drove him Crazy

… I’ve connected to a Closed Book

which is making me ANGRY

with ‘THEM’… Walk Away?

I feel there’s no more Song to Sing

… in this part of the Map…

Runaways Die or just Come Back.

This ‘Happy Ever After’ is Broken

… and it must be all my Fault…

I planted Seeds that grew Weeds

in a Garden that turned Wasteland.

 

Chaos Magick And The Cut-Up Technique

 

I Bramble-Up

 

… ‘Durable’

as shifting

 

ENERGY…

 

shedding

tales and tails

like a wall

-acrobatic

lizard…

 

scampering

the Shadows

… towards…

the ‘Sunlight’.

 

‘The Streets’

gave Celia

syphilis…

 

I merely

sent a taxi

for her Escape.

 

“3-Fold”

 

and Forward

-Looking…

 

nice ‘Noose’

 

you’re

 

myxomatosis

 

weaving there.

 

The Horizon

beckons

my ‘Focus’…

 

as both Killers

and Clowns…

 

BACKFIRE!!!

 

“I’m Done!”

stick a fork

and a (Rather

Large) Knife

in you…

 

a Skull and

Cross Bones

pillow…

 

you’ll never

‘Recover’…

 

we’ve got

‘Money’ on It.

 

Paul Tristram - is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since.