Sunday, 1 December 2024

Five Poems by John Grey

 




CAR-POOLING 

Doug drove yesterday 

but who did it the day before? 

Is it my day.. 

No it can't be. 

But what if it is 

and I don't show up at Dick's house? 

Is he thinking, 

"Well maybe it really is my turn?" 

And who's due to suggest sex next? 

Me? My wife? 

The therapist? 

Should I call Dick? Or Doug? 

What about Roger? 

Wait a minute. Roger doesn't drive. 

It pays to be Roger. 

But what if no one comes to pick him up? 

Who does he call? 

Me? Dick? Doug? 

Maybe he just says to his wife, 

"Screw 'em. Let's screw." 

But what if it's not his turn 

to name the place and date. 

Finally, Joe shows up, 

with Doug in the front, 

Dick and Roger in the backseat. 

I'd forgotten about Joe. 

One day, I'll forget about sex. 

 

 

 

 

THAT FEATURED POET 

 

he reads last because 
of his piece de resistance past, 
his highlighted angst, 
headlining pain, 
those main attraction disappointments 
and his cream of the crop scars; 
no other poet on the bill 
is such a nabob of nihilism, 
a bench-mark of bitterness, 
a milestone of madness; 
he's just superior 
at jibes, at beauty, 
at nakedness, and of course, 
he's a leading light 
when it comes to spilling blood; 
the audience gasp - 
if only we could be that miserable, 
that insane; 
when he's done, 
he offers up some books for sale; 
you can't buy his torment 
for love or money 
but at least 
you can buy into it. 
 

 

 

 

LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING ABOUT MY COUNTRY 

 

If Australia was a fruit,  

its soft rind would disguise a hard core. 

Same as if it was a tennis ball. 

A wild smash with a racket 

would shudder a body violently 

from finger bones to toes. 

 

If it was a person, 

sure they’d smile a welcome, 

shake your hand, 

but it has the propensity  

to leave you hot and dry   

in its overwhelming outback guts. 

 

I’m back home for a short visit, 

strolling a beach barefoot, 

cool surf tickling my skin, 

while, far to the west of me, 

there’s a beach that stretches to near-infinity 

before it gets within one salty smell 

of the Indian Ocean. 

 

My people are giving 

but there’s only so much to give. 

I spend my time  

in their soft crust  

before it gives way  

to rock-hard bread. 

 

 

 

 

MOMENTS FROM MY LIFE 

 

It has been my experience that, 

in most of my fishing excursions, 

the joke is on the fish 

 

I sometimes dress as an owl 

to scare away all unwanted critters. 

 

I often forget  

to keep myself contained. 

 

The hours fly by 

yet the clock still believes 

it’s keeping correct time. 

 

Everything I thought I’d seen the last of 

keeps coming back.  

 

The last time I kicked anything  

was back in my early twenties. 

I believe it was a ball of some description. 

  

Up until now, 

I have not written a poem 

that refers in any way 

to a kiss on the top of a head. 

 

No one I know 

knocks three times politely. 

 

 

 

 

THE ONE-MAN REVOLUTION 

 

he’s the last 

of the revolutionaries - 

 

every day 

with the downtown park 

as a podium 

 

he rants and raves 

about how  

capitalism will fall 

any day now 

 

and the Marxists 

will take over 

redistribute the wealth - 

 

he’s been preaching this 

for sixty years - 

 

he’ll be preaching it 

on his death bed – 

 

something  

that’s never  

gonna happen 

is always gonna happen – 

 

he takes comfort in that









John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, New English Review  and Tenth Muse. Latest books, “Subject Matters”, ”Between Two Fires” and “Covert” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Haight-Ashbury Literary Journal, Amazing Stories and River and South.

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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