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Richard Atkinson

6/22/2016

0 Comments

 
Picture
1. dreams
 
so  how  are 
your  dreams
going ?
 
mine  are  always 
utter  nightmares
 
but  good  ones
a  passion  cold  sweat
about  them
 
they  wake  me  up
keep  me  thinking
and  smoking
way  into  the  night
 
and  morning
about  the  plots
 
moves
and  terrible  acting.
 
like  I  was  one  of  the
good  guys
 
in  Alias  Smith 
and  Jones
 
the   70’s  cowboys,
remember.
 
***
2. dead family and  heroes
 
ok  I’m  dead
meeting  old  dead  family
that  takes  about
two    and  a  half  hours.
after  that  I’ve  got  nothing  to  say.
next  it’s  hero  meet.
I  sense  them  getting  bored  before  me
after  all  I  am  not  their  hero
and  never  changed  a  thing  on  earth
for  the  better
apart  from  the  times  I  got  drunk
and  told  living  people  exactly  how  I  thought
about  them  perhaps.
so  maybe  I  did  change  something  on  planet  earth
but  not  in  the  big  way  of  my  heroes  I  am  now  meeting.
they all  say the  same  thing
“oh
it  just  happened
I  just  wrote  it
I  just  painted  it
I  just  did  it”
all  of  your heroes  are  bored  after
five  minutes  of  seeing  you
and  want  to  move  on
in  the  blackness  you  find  yourself 
they  can
forever
after  they  have  gone
all  you  have  left  is  yourself
and  yourself  for  an
eternity
with  idiots  to  talk  to
like  down/up  here
up  here
pretending  everyone  was
grown  up  like  last 
time
when  you  could  not
make  your  mind  up.

***
3. the  capital  L  in  my   Lurve
 
I am something you forgot  ever existed
I am the spider in your bath
I am the fly in your soup
I am the sadness you forgot you had
I am the fly on the wall
 
I am death speaking loudly
when you thought you had forgotten  all about it
again
 
I am minus zero
when you thought it could not get any colder
 
I am climate change
when you thought there  was  none
 
I am the silent minority talking  loudly 
for  a  change
 
I am the great book you never read
the one that could  have  changed
how you look and  feel  about life
 
I am the age you would be if you were
not quite as old  as  George  Clooney
 
I am the bloke on the bench with mental elf  issues
you never ever notice
 
I am the problem part of the city you fear to tread
 
I am not  that  old  and hooked on  booze
taken to get away from
all those who are a  little dead inside
 
I am the film that changed your life
 
I am the poem
that made you laugh
smile
cry
or just write another
one.
 
 
 
I am the capital F in Feeling
I  am  the  capital T,s  in  Thought  and  Thinking
I  am  the  capital W  in  Will  power
I  am  the  capital C  in  Co-operation
I am   the  capital T  in Tenderness
I am the  capital  D  in  Deceased
I am the  capital G  in Grief
I am the  capital S  in Sorrow
 
I am not you
unless I loved you
big  time
 
then I might be
and you would be
the capital L in our Love
 
 
4. loneliness
 
it’s
how
others
view
u
 
but maybe
not
how
u
view
your self.
 
Charles Bukowski
Joseph Beuys
Ferdinand  Celine
Raymond Carver
 
craved
it
like
something
to
attain
 
be proud
of.
 
if u do truly feel it
remember
life
is
just
a
practise
for
death
 
and in death
we
will
only truly
find
it
 
forever
over many eons
that will go
on
like
a forever cheap
job
 
lunch
break
with the same sandwich’s.
 
so now really
is
the
only chance
we
get
to
practise
it
 
fine tune it
welcome it
praise it.
 
but then again
even the
co-operation
of
 
dancing
 
fools
can
be
welcome
if
u
r
at the
end of your
tether.
 
it might
even
give
u
something to laugh
about
even dancing fools
have
a
purpose.
 
and laughing can be better
then
money
sex
and
power
any
day.
 
be a holy
sinner.
 
find
laughter
in
true
desperation.
 
true
loneliness
is
just
another
word
for
being
human,
this strange
condition
we all seem to have,
but most
fuck up  or  get  fucked  up.
 
maybe this is
the
only
time
we
ever
get
to
be
truly
alone
 
and
it
can
be
wonderful.
 
no questions
no having to explain
no small talk.
 
just u
the 4 walls
and a
 
desperation
it will never
change,
 
as
if.
 
just one lousy
bum
being
the
only
lousy
bum
 
he/she
can
be.
 
shit !
even
lousy bums have a purpose
but
 
I still need to
find
mine ?
 
or maybe I have?
thinking is a lost
art.
 
but I am all for it
without the
bull.

*** 

6. sleeping digger man
 
passing by a
building site
 
walls half built
rubble strewn
empty of people.
 
midday sun yawning
air crisp
 
full of salt
and yesterday’s vinegar.
 
noticed
in this abandoned  landscape
enormous man with beard.
 
eyes tightly shut
asleep
 
a picture of serenity in a
tiny mechanical digger
 
whose cabin was
too small  for him
 
as though
everyone had left
 
having been unable
to prise him out
 
and decided to
leave him
be
sleeping.
 
passing him again
later
he was still as asleep
 
as anyone ever can be.
but there was a headless
shoulderless
human half figure
 
peering into a concrete tunnel
that lay upturned on the ground
next to digger man.
 
maybe he had lost something?
maybe  he  was  looking  for  answers
 
or  a  way  out
or  even  a  way  out  for  digger  man?
 
the headless man
and the trapped
sleeping
giant.
 
something  that  should
make  anyone 
smile
for  free.

***
7. trebor  mints  in  gravy  man
 
in  the  library  looking
at  poetry  books  at  the  back
 
saw  a  book  of  Samuel  Becket  poems
so  was  flicking  through  it
did  not  know  he  wrote  poetry
 
TREBOR  MINTS  IN  HOT GRAVY JUICE  NIGEL!
TREBOR  MINTS  IN  HOT GRAVY JUICE  NIGEL!
TREBOR  MINTS  IN  HOT GRAVY JUICE NIGEL!
 
I looked  behind  me  and  the  black  balding  guy
that  normally  stands  outside
the  charity  shop  in  Byker
 
trying  to  sell  charity  badges
was  sitting  at  a  table 
 
flicking  through   some magazines  nervously.
It  was  him   I’d  heard
 
never  realized  he  suffered  from  tourette’s.
then  a lady  teacher  that  has  been  to  the  poetry
 
group  I    attend
turned  up  with  a  man 
 
we  say  halo  and  she  introduces  me 
I  tell  her  I  have  a
proper  poetry  book  coming  out  here  and  America 
 
ARSEHOLE!
ARSEHOLE!
ARSEHOLE!
 
so  your  genius  will  be  known
she  says
 
TWITTY  TWATTY NIT NIT
TWITTY  TWATTY NIT NIT
TWITTY  TWATTY NIT NIT
 
but  not  in  a  funny  ha  ha  way
in  a  kindly  way
 
SODDING  BUNT
SODDING  BUNT
SODDING  BUNT
 
the  lady’s  friend  says 
he  had  been  trying  to  read Ulysses
 
I  CAN  SMELL  HOT  PUSSY!
I  CAN  SMELL  HOT  PUSSY!
I  CAN  SMELL  HOT  PUSSY!
 
but  had  great  difficulty  with  the   constant   interruptions
and  smiled  and  I  smiled  back
 
WHAY  DON’T  YOU  JUST  SHUT  THE  HELL  UP!
JESUS!
I  CANT  THINK  OVER  HERE!
YOUR  DRIVING  ME  DARN CRAZY!
 
someone  near  hollers  to  the 
black  guy  from  the  back  tables
 
FECK  YOU  AND  YOUR  MONKEY  NUTS! 
WHY  DON’T  YOU  SHUT  THE  FECK  UP!
NO  I  WONT  FECKING  SHUT  UP!
YOU  FECKING  SHUT  UP  MONKEY  NUTS!
 
the  black  guy  hollers  back
holding  his  ground
 
whilst  twitching  his head  and  body  involuntarily
we  try  and  stop  ourselves  laughing  out  loud
 
and  I  think  this  is  probably  the 
most  difficult  place  for  a  tourette’s  sufferer
 
to  have  an  attack
so  he  must  be  very  brave
 
to  even  try  and  do  it
like  everyone  else  can
easily
 
and  which  they  take  for  granted
the  ability  for  them  to  do  it
 
without  getting  shouted  at  for
turning  the  air  blue  or  shouting
out  non  sensical  words
 
that  make  you  wonder  why  they  chose  those words
that  made  you  bellyache  with  laughter  inside
 
just  when  you  needed  it
and  made  life  funny  and  interesting  again  and
 
worth
all  the   boring  bull
we  have  to  go  through
 
day  in  and  out like  we  were  all
just
automatons
 
that  didn’t  suffer  from  tourette’s
and  swear 
and  shout
I  CAN  SMELL HOT  PUSSY! 
loudly  in an  almost extinct library
 
I  could  not  take  out  the  Beckett  book
I  owe  them  to  much
 
and  not  just  for
this
poem.

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