Wednesday, 20 August 2025

Six Poems by John Doyle

 







First Beads of Sweat From Hunting Season

For Gregg Norman


(1)

My grampappy stirred his coffee with a fork, my daddy too,

I see no reason to interfere with this natural order, how stars harness silent electrics,

yet disappear in muddy backwoods puddles.


(2)

I never watch much TV, hardly sip 

a drop of booze. 

I have become a monster. Ponder on that one, John : I h a v e b e c o m e a m o n s t e r.


(3)

Tempting freckles of dusk

lie heavy, make fools of my eyes

in noise of dreamy aeroplanes my lovers imagine sailing on window panes.


(4)

Atoms in the stone

are signifiers music's hidden from the sun.

These are words and sounds, a hurried blood-bitten

path there are other stones on, fallen foul of foot and rat since giggling centuries

declined a truce from a map I've left in the cabin behind me.


(5)

Out in the desert people are making a tv show,

cars pass as a blurred relic of humanity on a camera's sorrows,

children in these cars ask parents what's happening, elders have no words to put in these children

(6)

There are millions of these unavoidables;

we are chalky piles of mourning,

millions more await us.


(7)

Magpies weathering rainy days

clamped their toes on telephone tongues beside a classroom

Mrs. Macklin used to prod her sickly fingers in me, circa 1986. 

She was a ghastly thing 

illness drained its lifeblood for


(8)

High wind, salt splattered spray, blistering blue;

I have become Neil Young, beach umbrella, hair well-kept, yet uncaring.

I mutter the blues in swollen music left behind, when the beach became independent of our being


(9)

Of all those cars my daddy drove

I’d a good feeling about that car like a horse I’d watched frighten shame from midnight.

The horse had eyes made of sapphire

from a planet my daddy was the first soul to wander on


(10)

Baby’s watching Fargo wondering how many could make their death a work of art -

I am overwhelmed by the presence and grace of the Lord;

I am happy this song has not yet been written; yes, imagine that.


(11)

She followed me through the vines of the moon

on a horse made from lightning 

and its bones wet and courageous from sapphire serenades,

from the wars on Neptune. How different she was from the beast she'd been, 

breathing fire at the Oriental woman, 

pouring vinegar on the district of her lives

(12)

A question mark shape of stars and stars nearby 

sure of their place near Heaven

told me that God blesses the sinner who starts to see the light


(13)

Snow came as slow as she'd came and went

working an afternoon's matinee between

dreams of a ghost teasing decisions on her dress;

the guitar solo is invisible and sacred while she flickers away.

She doesn't speak that much to me since junior made state senator,

smiling, shaking hands, avoiding her ex-husband who seems to like me a lot. 

So too do the philosophers losing their grip on our beating hearts.


(14)

The afternoons and their jagged prayers 

and their people not fearful of death but ancient and flattened in groovy cinemas 

and their hurried stitches glueing telephone calls to patchwork planets 

sitting close to girls who sit close to poets who expect them to say nothing 

which they scream so beautifully prayer softens like sandstone Sunday


(15)

Orange music and moustached 

dictators sitting in old fashioned bathtubs 

sitting on Greco-Roman jigsaw puzzles 


(16)

People forget that Johann Cruyff played for Feyenoord.

Back home my dream for a cosmopolitan life finds a weak-jawed witness

in several packed lunches these binary days 

this lost-luggage week denies.

People forget a lot of things. 

I believed in fiction for a reason, that part in the contract I regret, 

but belief in darkness is simply my excuse to ignore myself

wandering in the crocodile's teeth, 

or the trenches we'll call them for simplicity.

No-one forgets those times I tried to kill or love them, it seems to be an opposite and equal sin


(17)

The spider dreams a halo doused by a burning truth,

no one looked at their diaries to see it was time to laugh,

they'd been murdered by people who’d been drugged by death.


(18)

He sits before us, shuffles in his seat,

sips his glass of still and lonesome water delivered in blue transparent drums

by a man who four years ago couldn’t speak English.

He sits before us, promotes the principles of a chosen few

who promote mayhem, hatred, lies, and the end of all time.

He sits before us, snake-like lisp,

and an aftershave scent that betrays his stern and odious spine.

He didn’t even have the evangelical grace to die his hair anything other than ginger


(19)

A machine they believe is haunted

became a boy weeping daydreams in San José

on someone's flight path to a planet primed for real estate;

it's business casual starting tomorrow. 

I'm sorry.  

Breakfast today has been extra and ordinary. I pretend I'm me 

until this shadow beside me learns how to dream,

his mouth nearly electric and frozen

when a hawk made from diamonds sets fire to the moon. 


(20)

My wheels got so angry with the road, rain sprinted towards the sky

until Rock N’Roll ceased to be anything more than a way of killing the immortals.

The road is sleeping now. The road was sleeping every night this week, it pretends it doesn’t 

hear me swearing. Crazy Electric Blue is a mysterious swear word it whispers 

when civil war breaks out in the suburbs


(21)

I dreamed of a child who said one line of profound wisdom 

who fell into a hole I called morning and consciousness 

who could be worth more in death to me than in life to himself. I’ll call him Romeo, a lover


How Chairs Fit on Top of Each Other


How chairs fit on top of each other in underused corners of public places

like libraries or public service offices

determines how deep I'm willing to delve into the structures of my passing lives

while I watch how, with inane ease, function and order

wallow in this archive of mathematics

and I soon feel everything should collapse

as it sometime will -

here or within the mindless numbers of space-dust it's all destined to be

and ripped apart to roam eternity

by another cataclysmic explosion

triggered by regrets within

surrounding a whipcrack chain reaction from a hurricane

that began when I watched how other children could fit chairs on top of other chairs


so easily



Big Mama Thornton Died Penniless in a Shithole in Los Angeles


And all sorts of health issues prevail :

Denied, denied. DENIED!

of a place on the lips, song follows songs to a zenith

of a place on a tongue; butchers tip vultures handsomely, not handsome as a movie star, 

not hands in see-ment laughing up to click with the camera. No. No. NO!


What we got ourselves is heavy without, 

heavy within, 

Ill in the pocket department, 

shredding machine's sure gotta way with her song, 

nothing knows better than a whole sweet blooming nothing -


what's dat?!

she sings to struggle to waddle to the latrine, 

someone saw light go out 

today 

in some shithole. 


Coming up we hear the tragedies of beautiful Elvis. Fancy dat...

What we got is mystic muscle music;

Fast gone;

Flushing can -

a taxi stalling, kids giggling, carburettor symphony gargling on the overpass



Lone Motorbike on the Lincoln Highway : North Platte, Nebraska


“...every impulse of light/exploding from the core/as life flies out of us”

Adrienne Rich


And you told her roses were limitless,

sunflowers were seashores, stars were hurricanes imploding in black holes,


you told her music was a theatre of lies, a snake in a basket that danced for credit cards,

cash in the hand was a bend in a river 


a mattress floated down, 

flung from a teenager's stolen pick-up,


you told her Willie Nelson was President, Jesus was your cousin, 

cars were dragonflies with expensive engines


walking on the skin of the waters your leather jacket burned on.

You told her lots of things.


Time to turn around,

tell her what she needs to know, be cool.



The Man With the Most Slappable Face in the World


And, as I shut his office door away so hurriedly, I felt I could’ve slammed it too,

and blown a James Joyce sized hole in his face where his tongue

wriggled like a piggie crowned in his universal prayer of shit-brown mud,

and as his Dean Pritchard face sucked his glasses back to outer space

I saw a void appear in the gap it left

where art and love and paintbrushes with tips made from poets' mittens

set a bonfire to burn around him, but his gasses and his spirit and his appearance fee 

combined, couldn't burn fast enough on the fees he charged to hear his tongue wriggle some more

on the combined corners of the academy floors

where we'd fallen out of of love and in a post-modern something or another trance

just hoping that someday Jeremy Piven would arrive in his time-machine 

from a number of years before

to start his study of this teflon cut-out of a proletariat kind of man

who'd wait an hour 'til time died from tedium and the neglect of love expired 

within the written word

he'd dragged from a stage and drugged within his book

on the history of the art of soulless bastardry in the murky sinful dregs

on a charlatan's academia - oh, and the fees, yes, he keeps reminding us of the fees!

Kerouac and Joyce and his lovely lovely boys wouldn’t want to starve!


Brian's Formative Years


His t-shirt was knife-fight red,

a wounded shade 


saying something sexual

beneath his liaison 


with adulthood too soon, 

his piece de la resistance being "mosh" in gold letters on that kinky shade of red,


clawing to his Ba'al-serving body, 

sweaty balmy dusk, 


Grace his apprentice groupie -

Brian was cool, 


too cool for school he was,

his dad sacked from security guard duties


telling everyone he ran the college

where Brian would sell his soul 


to be something useful 

to civilized folk,


Ba'al's dreams exorcised by an empty

end to this metallic ghost of Summer





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 7 poetry collections published. His 7th collection, "Isolated Incidents" was published by Pski's Porch in Summer 2021.





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