Rat-Squalor
By Paul Tristram
Sssh, calm yourself down…
it’s just Jimmy ‘Spare A Penny’
strangling another rat.
I know, it’s horrid,
they screech like blue murder.
He scavenges the City Dump
in the mornings,
and the metal skips behind the supermarkets
in the early afternoons.
They’re attracted by the constant smell
of gone-off food
which lingers about him.
That’s why he kips in the other room
on his own.
We’re alright in here,
besides, Barry and Davey’s dogs are close by…
and we only smell of dirt, tobacco and cider.
At least we’ve got the upstairs
of this derelict old Brewery
to skipper down in.
Wooden floorboards beneath our aching bones
instead of cold concrete.
It’s a nightmare down in the woods,
trust me, with the badgers and foxes.
They don’t attack you,
unless provoked,
just cause a bloody nuisance
and keep you awake all night.
There’s nothing worse
than begging in the February Rain,
with only half hour sleep behind you.
If you nod-off on the job,
they’ll arrest you for being ‘Drunk In Public’,
whether you’re sober or not.
Then there’s Court Fines you can’t pay,
and the DTs in an unforgiving Prison Cell.
3-Officer Unlock
By Paul Tristram
It started with a prod from behind one day.
I ignored it, they got no reaction.
The second time was a different kettle of fish,
I’d already been fighting
the Dark, Sinister Voices all morning, I snapped.
Berserk isn’t quite the reaction they were hoping for,
but it’s what they ended up getting.
I had an almost out-of-body experience
as my psychopathy outmanoeuvred.
I frightened everyone within the general vicinity,
both Staff and Inmates, and eventually Medical.
I’m peaceful and quiet when left alone,
spend most of my time reading, writing and drawing…
but, they just will not leave you alone.
They badger-bait until it is too late.
I do not approve of Violence, but I understand it.
Each step down its ruinous path
drains precious colour and light from my world.
Sterile, and uncomfortably contained is my life,
and a 3-Officer Unlock is now my only company.
Who suffers when I explode? We all suffer!
The City’s Ghosts
By Paul Tristram
You were up on top of the Plymouth Gin Distillery,
last night, a few minutes to midnight.
You didn’t break in, steal, or damage anything…
but, it was upsetting to the passers-by down below.
You were engaged in conversation with someone,
or something… that wasn’t actually there
… and if that wasn’t strange enough,
the urban seagulls have chicks on the rooftops around,
and they were viciously dive-bombing
everybody upon the pavement… but, left you alone?
Someone shouted “Hark!”, although it wasn’t you,
we could see that it wasn’t you plainly…
then two women spectators started screaming
… and you disappeared into thin air…
reappearing from behind us all a minute or so later
with an “Excuse me, does someone please have a light?”
There are no Charges, on this occasion, only a Warning
… stay on the ground, and leave the City’s Ghosts alone.
About Paul Tristram: Paul Tristram is a widely published, Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way.