Paul Tristram

by Horror Sleaze Trash on March 11, 2013

arrogant bastard ale

 

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who now lives on the Southern coast of Britain, has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain  bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.

 

 

Trot On And Shit

 

I stopped taking pills when I was 15,

your chat-up lines bore me,

I’m here for myself

and you’re in the way of the bar.

I’m going to dance all night naked

as soon as I can get rid of you

-you twat-

The Locket

 

It was a dirty

old, silver thing,

holding one photo

and two strands of hair.

 

She was a widow.

that’s why I was there

putting up shelves.

I was bored beyond belief,

refusing countless offers

of vodka and coke

and breathing in stale piss.

I hated her

and I hated myself.

Once more she opened

that damned locket.

 

It was a flat

in an old people’s home.

No children,

family all dead,

museum furniture,

cat too scared to come in,

sat watching from the

border lines beyond the glass.

 

She should have thrown

that locket away

the day that he died.

Or maybe even a year

to the day of his death,

I’m romantic too,

for Christ Sake!

but what a waste.

He’s gone!

Broken Bandanna

 

So here I am

Similar cell, different prison

Sat in the corner by the heating pipe.

Stroking my aching face

Listening to this Scottish twat

Upstairs on the 2’s

Kicking the fuck out of his cupboard

Over football on the TV.

And they red-carded me again

But I am far from defeated.

For I have something in my hand

A broken bit of bandanna

That still smells of you.

In Awe At Broken Law

 

I have always been this way

even as a young child.

I would stop and stare

at damaged phone boxes

and broken bus stops.

A battered road cone,

busted gates and fences.

But what I loved best

were smashed windows.

I stumbled upon

some older boys once,

completely trashing

a greenhouse.

The noise was terrific,

electrical and exciting.

I nearly laughed out loud

as I watched fascinated.

I guess that if I had not

become a writer I would

have been a Demolition Man.

 

 

I Sense It

 

Sssshhh!

Over here.

Can you hear that?

Can you hear that too?

Sssshhh!

I can feel it.

It’s in those shadows.

Oh, Lord God help us.

FUCKING HELL!

RUN, RUN, RUN!

OUT OF MY WAY

GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!

WATCH OUT FOR THAT WALL!

WHY CAN’T I RUN FASTER?

THIS IS INSANE.

I DON’T WANT TO DIE.

I DON’T WANT TO DIE.

I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING DIE!

OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!

WHICH WAY, WHICH WAY?

Oh we’re fucked.

No wait, you’re fucked.

Look it’s after you, see.

FUCK OFF, GET AWAY FROM ME.

GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!

Phew, I was so frightened.

Look at me I’m shaking.

Aw, look at him go, poor bastard.

God help him.

That’s gotta hurt.

I can’t look anymore.

Where can I get a pint?

Don’t worry, I never saw a thing.

 

 

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