Five Poems by Paul Tristram

 

Time To Open A New Door

 

Oh, I’ve got that ‘Bull by the Horns’, alright,

I’m dragging him up the road behind me.

Apathy’s a bus stop in a Ghost Town…

bollocks to that for a game of soldiers,

God (or whoever’s up there laughing at us?)

gave me feet, and as long as there’s ground

in front of me I’m a-keep on keeping on.

I’ve analysed ‘Depression’, dissected it,

riddled and muddled my aching head

with its heavy-mind-numbing-confusion.

What a waste of time, it’s one of two things

a Trap or a Springboard, the choice is yours.

Find your ‘Reason’, let the ‘Moss’ fly off

… ‘Adapt’ until it becomes Second Nature.

There are many ‘Prison Cells’ to waste in,

besides the obvious bricks & mortar ones…

never grace any of them with repetition.

Keep opening up Doors in front of you,

and only ever look back at the ‘Good Things’.

 

I’m Going To Get What’s Coming To You



~ it’s treachery, whichever way you look at it ~

 

(Ending) ‘Posterity’

… Unhinged,

and fighting back

against the affront

of your unwanted

… ‘Speculations’.

 

If I gifted you this

evening’s Crown

… it still wouldn’t

keep you away…

there’d be (Smug)

Pomp and Parade.

 

“I am ‘Tailoring’

a pair of shoes…

the left made of

‘Disappointment’

the right ‘Defeat’…

for your DEMISE.”

 

Oh, no you are not!

You’re ‘Diluting’

yourself with each

and every (Hateful)

unnecessary stitch

‘Cobbled’ Together.

 

Nay Sweat, Mate

 

Nah, that’s not ‘Detrimental’, as such

… more uncomfortable, innit…

yet, if you weight it all up against

the ‘Positives’ of unique Experience

and the ‘Shade’ it’ll bring to

your already established ‘Colour’

… I’d backtrack and take both

‘Options’… although, one man’s

Incarceration is another’s Meditation.

As a child, I not only watched

people with ‘More Than Me’

without any ‘Envy’ or ‘Contempt’…

I witnessed the other kids on my side

of Life’s ‘Uneven and Unfair Table’

… ‘Descend’ LOwer into themselves

‘Weaker and Weaker’… rather than

riSING ‘Stronger’ through Discipline.

 

The Moon Above Barbed Wire



~ ‘Lunaticus’~

 

… ‘Curved’,

like

her

sleek

calf…

except,

with

self-harm

SCARS…

stuttering

the

gracefulness.

 

If

you

come

any

closer,

I

swear…

that

I

shall

set

my

‘Wounds’

upon

you.

 

I

Blossom

… away

from

your

reACH…

 

I

have

left

‘The

Shadows’

 

[Punctured

the

Pressure]

 

… and,

Searchlights

now

only

sweep

[Past]

Low-Levels…

 

No Brakes… Yeeha!

 

I ricocheted off your prison wall,

bounced over each soul-trap,

taking impossible corners

at breakneck speed, oh yeah.

Tasted fast-passing clouds

as you failed at chaining me down.

Above the tree-line,

skimming over the mountaintops…

always just out of reach.

I hit each net you set

and trampolined off them,

using the stunning momentum

to augment my acceleration.

You’re chasing me on horseback,

whilst I’m whip-cracking the skies alive

with thunder & lightning bolts.

In the same race?

Not even the same game, sunshine!

‘I Jettison, Therefore I Am.’

Bobsleighing into Eternity…

and the magical excitement

of leaving that past, and you… far behind.

 

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.