TWELVE POEMS THEN BEDTIME
by
Richard Parr
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY
Richard Parr on Smashwords.com
Twelve Poems Then Bedtime
Copyright (C) 2011 by Richard Parr
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TWELVE POEMS THEN BEDTIME
Egotistical Testimonial
I’m upgraded not downloaded, I’m a thought machine unloaded
Downsized and underfunded, upside down and overloaded
I’m politically corrected, educationally disconnected
Over pleasured, undersubscribed, overhyped and undirected
I’m well-known but unaffected; I’m well-backed but unelected
I’m a flirt but well-respected, yet aroused and well-erected
Well-concealed yet unsuspected, well-concerted yet defected
Well-concerned, consciously crafted, carefully chosen, co-connected
I order fast food from the slow lane, but I eat it in the fast lane
Have an active mucus membrane and an arsehole full of methane
I’m profane, arcane, humane, mundane, urbane, a bane and clinically insane
In a train, in the rain, in a plane, on a plain, high octane, on a crane, on cocaine, John McCain
I’m a B-plus or C-minus, never A except my bra size
Neither LOL’d or LMAO’d or ROFLOL’d or HAHAHA (cries)
Nor the bee’s knees, the dog’s bollocks, the camel’s back, the top, the tits
But a lad, a poet, a writer, an artist, a free man, non-assumpsit
Anmer
Anmer
Of King George
Turning the curve
Straightening out for home
Victorious hour
See the fine young lady with the flagpole
And the vision imprinted in your eyes
Falling crown to ankle
In love or in protest?
The darkest hour gave birth to liberty
These labour pains have subsided
But the whites of your eyes remain
Like bitter shock on constant repeat
Mary Rose
Behold those sails, my Mary Rose
And sail out of Portsmouth harbour
A valiant stern, tough stubborn nose
Hand carved by the gifted armada
Don’t overload, my Mary Rose
Those cannons at the ready
Accompanied by the fleeting show
Let captain keep you steady
Victory merges where hope flows
My King did firmly promise
That she would sail where our God goes
How sad that you’re not missed
A buried wreck where treasures flourish
And divers tick their list
Reclaiming three hundred souls that perished
In that dark early morning mist
I get that sinking feeling
When I think of you, Mary Rose
A wandering childhood fling
Unprintable Tudor prose
I cannot resurrect
Or reconstruct your feat
Or pray and time-correct
Through words or rhythm or beat
Lay peacefully, my Mary Rose
Sleep sound on the sea bed
Wake up when you see the swimming crows
Ready to collect the dead
Abducted, awakened and arose
Still wearing that dreamy head
Now viewed daily, so the story goes
While history goes unsaid
The World Is Yours
The world is yours
Do what you want with it
Hate, bitter or grit
Belissimo, amores
The world is yours
Shoot a star tonight
Lady beckons delight
Try to show remorse
The world is our one
Treat it how it should want
To be walked upon
Or planted with song
The world is our one
Take it home from work
Embrace it ’til gone
Swept up at Dunkirk
The world is content
Cultured, poetic and crafted
Dictatorships drafted
Evil self intent
The world is abysmal
Scorched plains, rain wasteland
Of our increasing waistband
Maybe it’s a symbol
The world is serene
We are pure organisms
Swimming in deep marine
Our innocent baptism
The world is at end
Fire ashes, gas clouds
Bell rings, time to send
The one in the shroud
Tick, Tock, Time
Tick, tock, time
Eternal entrapment
Penitentiary enactment
Click, clock, crime
Tick, tock, token
Mechanical justice
Claw arm auspice
Wink, wonk, woken
Tick, tock, taken
From fearsome airlock
Freedom mind unlock
Shriek, shock, shaken
No tick, no tock, no time
Forever in the present
No breast of state investment
No milked false paradigm
That’s Class
I adore their attitude
The way they ride prize horses
And drive Range Rovers
Yet they shop at Aldi.
Maybe it’s an illusion
Maybe the rich are the poorest of all
Treasured antiques of a withered age
Who give to charity
But hate to lend a tenner
Middle-earners of middle-age with their disbelief and rage
Who cannot reach the summit
Are scared of slipping from their perch
On the flight of the human circus
The wealthiest have priority boarding passes
And sit near the partitioning that separates the classes
The middle-earners crowd and shroud the leftover seats
While the working class
Meander contentedly
Absent-mindedly
Whole-heartedly
They sit on the wings
And pound the windows
To scare everybody inside
Concrete Guards
A carcass of cars and flamed windows
Hum the tune of wielded pain
Where the concrete guards block your shadows
Follow them deep into their burrows
Xenophobia shocks the clinically sane
A carcass of cars and flamed windows
Melted skin peeled off charred brows
Reveals a tormented after-birth brain
Where the concrete guards block your shadows
See the light on the bonfire, it’s hollow
See the permanent bloodshed stain
A carcass of cars and flamed windows
Hold true to your will, then tomorrow
Keep pushing the hate and blame train
Where the concrete guards block your shadows
Over cliffs of restrained sorrow
Re-spawned in the neighbourhood game
A carcass of cars and flamed windows
Where the concrete guards block your shadows
Strangeness And Destruction Sestina
A ravishing ruckus of a rainstorm forms a fog far into the night
A coated bloated figure coasts by steaming with a nicotine brain
A mouse oozes through gutter shutters as a cig ember meanders down
A pig wheel squeals and screeches as the figure leaps into the shadows
‘Don’t see me tonight, I pray you, and be off into the distance
Good riddance, never to meet again, and now finish my mission I must.’
A warehouse door opens behind him, and the man stays inside the shadows
Only the whitened eyes reflect the preset terror’d brain
‘Keep your hands out your pockets and stay at a distance,’
A woman says as she pats the man down
And a smirk spreads across his face and far into the night
He thinks, ‘Relieve this information, I must.’
He says, ‘The opposing forces are wearing us down,
We’re surrounded by a four-sided flank at a distance.
Get the members together for the abominable strike, we must
Equip and exit and stay in the shadows.’
He wonders what dances elegantly around her war-torn brain
Inane or insane, it’s healthy and plain, and now to the basement for night
The men in their grey coats, their hats, one brain
One army, one stance, one soul, one must
Not deviate from the plan, the plan, keep friends at a distance
And enemies closer, the closer they come, the bigger the shadows
The colder the night, the stranger the night
The ricochet of lead and mortals go down
Morning comes as the moon coasts down
The sun roars high and the horizon becomes distance
Papers blow in the street and bins must
Wonder if the occupants have misplaced their shadows
The man marches forward, and a tank pummels knight
After knight, spreading forth bone and sinew and corrupted brain
The man, he flees, leaves a huge gaping distance
Between city and horizon, and now in woodland shadows
Just him and the girl, survival a must
‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ the loud speaker brain
Will henceforth again, suddenly the city becomes light, ablaze and then night
Buildings floored, attention diverted, the two hide in a rabbit hole that goes deeper and down
Flight Checklist
Pushback
Altitude set
Speedbrakes at ‘Ready For Takeoff’ setting
Flaps at 5 or 10 for takeoff
Course set
Engine thrust test
Wing and engine de-ice on
Strobe, landing and taxi lights on
Flap check for takeoff
Parking brake set
Throttle increase for takeoff
Maintain V2 + 20 knots until 3,000 feet
Maintain 200 knots until 10,000 feet
Flaps to 5 at 1,000 feet
Flaps to 2 at 2,000 feet
Flaps Up at 2,500 feet
Reset barometer
Keep speed under 250 knots below 10,000 feet to reduce noise
Speed up to 275 knots at 15,000 feet
Speed up to 310 knots at 20,000 feet
Speed up to 435 knots at 30,000 feet
Lights off above 10,000 feet except for navigational lights
Cruise
Reset barometer
Check the radio
Check the fuel
Slow to 400 knots at 28,000 feet at a rate of 2400 feet per minute
Slow to 300 knots at 18,000 feet at a rate of 1800 feet per minute
Slow to 250 knots at 10,000 feet at a rate of 1500 feet per minute
Slow to 200 knots at 6,000 feet at a rate of 1000 feet per minute
Flaps at 10 degrees
Landing lights on
160 knots at 2,500 feet
Flaps at 25 to 30 degrees
Landing gear down
Maintain approach course
Autobrakes set for landing
Speedbrakes set for landing
Taxi lights on
1,000 feet
500 feet
400 feet
300 feet
200 feet
100 feet
Minimum
Minimum
Touchdown runway
Skid
Welcome
Rome Sews The Shallow
Rome sews the shallow
Sets the seed into the road
Keeping on the straight and narrow
Cuts the corner, flowers grow
Rome sews the shallow
All the temples have no name
And the Gods refuse to swallow
But begin to spit with rain
The pillars in the forum
Coliseum being built
The slaves show no decorum
Masters never show their guilt
Oh, bring me water and the wine
Bring me grape straight from the vine
I’ll make them disappear
I have never shed a tear
Low be my height
Sticky skin and skinny frame
The tone a pale white
Have no colour, show no shame
Throw him to the beast!
Remove the cursed deceased!
Let the games begin!
Ignite the fire within!
Throw him to the beast!
Feed me all the banquet feast!
Raise the soul within!
Greed will never give in
The Shore Swallows Me: Rome Sews The Shallow Anagram
Howl, see masters howl
Is not detested as the hero
Top ranking, heathier and wrongest
Werewolf grunts, sore crotch
Whose motherless law
Hell! Man! Alas! Vehement poet!
Werewolf as oddest onslaught
Bite brutish, poignant wit
Harmful Hitler in poets
Scum to guile in bible
He scowls venomous hatred
I show reverent mass true light
The weird, benign woman hater
German bi frightens to tamper vigor
Ill ape prime death mask
Venerated, heavier ash
Hey, bowel might
Smart fancy dinky kinkiness
Hot, eaten, white, pale
Oh, man. Volcano whorehouses
Who mirth to hate best?
Evade smothered succeeder
Might, genteel base
In fine, wittier eighth
Who mirth to hate best?
The equal, sedate bafflement
Whine true halitosis
Idling weevil revenger
This And That
Oh, you know, this
n that
Not much I suppose
Here and there
n that
Nobody really knows
Wotevuh you make of it
I suppose
Over there a bit n that
Not quite there
But God only knows
Erm
Well, you know, like that
Now n then I suppose
Ask her, she probly knows
Yeah, well, kinda that
And kinda this I suppose
Have you tried them, they’ll know
No? Surely not, surprised at that
Maybe those, I suppose
Try this, then try that
Never tried it, so I dunno
Turn left n then right I suppose
Someone will help you get that
Not sure who, so I dunno
Keep searchin, I suppose
Did ya wait a long time to get that?
I aven’t got it, so I don’t know
Ask her, I suppose
Now n then, you know n that
Waitin on an answer, you know
But they’re waitin too, I suppose
Have you tried
This n that?
You tried this, do you know
About that?
No, I don't suppose
Gimme this, you have that
Remember it, because I know
You might forget, I suppose
Over here, take this n that
And come back, you know
It won’t be long, I suppose
They all wait for this n then for that
Stick around n wait, you know
They dunno eether, I suppose
Probly talkin together n that
Happuns every time, you know
THE END
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About the author:
Richard Parr was born in 1986 in England. He lives in Hillingdon, London.
Other titles by Richard Parr on the Internet:
An Exquisitely Polite Affair - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/64794
Boring Front Cover - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/93977
Connect with Me Online:
http://twitter.com/#!/spacecrisis