when grandma finally died
I wouldn’t have been surprised
if she’d been laid out on a catafalque
of Oil of Ulay, 30 denier tights and Cuticura talc
the send-off
Author: jim clayton
no i wouldn’t do that if i were you
okay so this poem
this mixed-up modem
this odd wad of word gum
this ho-hum ovum
this proto golem
walking arms-out into the ocean
this foaming jeroboam
to spray round a podium
no-one invited you on
as always… it’s vital
to give it a title
which I manage after an hour or two:
no i wouldn’t do that if i were you
chives
I was in the garden
thinking hard n’
startin’
to feel words were dumb
grass was grass, the sun, the sun
(creatively blocked, to use the jargon)
suddenly I’m dry flow
a vacant little shit show
a no go kinda poet
a kid with a trumpet
who blows and pumps it
but it just sounds bad and he has to dump it
I know it’s absurd
all because I saw some herbs
in a rotten ol’ planter start to emerge
yeah! I felt so alive
looking at chives
but the words I wanted wouldn’t arrive
a sign I should quit
stop for a bit
put the pen down, be done with it
finally fuck this
spike the haikus, kill the couplets
cut the chives, make some omelettes
when things get better
oh no you don’t
it seems we can’t avoid
the asteroid
so Bezos builds a cock-shaped rocket
gets Amazon trucks to stock it
charges a billion bucks to go on it
the usual suspects apply:
all the sheikhs in Dubai
Trump, natch
an extra seat for his thatch
Zuckerberg, Musk, Gates
Putin and assorted mates
the back seats sprawling with plutocrats
sundry arsey aristocrats
the guy who bought Tiffany’s
having an epiphany
at the porthole tearfully
as the doors slam shut
and before you can tut
the rocket shoots up in a cloud of dust
but oh! what a shock!
it flies
through the skies
straight into the rock
coming in from the sun at one o’clock
and the first thing wiped
is the rocket in flight
which is good to know
‘cos the crowd below
need something to smile about before they go
the kraken vs.palace pier
down in the depths of the crabsick sea
a terrible monster calls to thee
with suckers like saucers
and eyes that authors
have struggled to render effectively:
the kraken barks
full centuries long hast it bust its chops
on barnacl’d rigs and sundry rocks
with fearful appendicals
very like tentacles
handy for tossing back seadogs in smocks:
the kraken barks
when – finally, fatefully roused from slumber
by oil rig drill or submarine blunder
with direful roar
will paddle to shore
and the overpriced pier rides rip asunder:
the kraken barks
where it’s all leading apparently
I was at the gym
rowing
going
nowhere
with everything I had
while watching an ad
for a luxury cremation service
apparently this purchase
of a fully-paid up furnace
guarantees us
when we’re ready for Jesus
in other words snuff it
that the family won’t say stuff it
let’s rough it
we haven’t the lolly
so we’ll sling him in a shopping trolley
and wheel him down the boating lake
(it’s not fenced-off)
for a bargain, DIY Viking send-off
no
rather
this beloved partner
fit former father
gym-toned parvenu
will get escorted down the avenue
with an honour guard of rowers to a right royal barbecue
(or something – I didn’t really understand it TBH)
no birds sing
jim clayton 