Author: jim clayton

sunday bonfires

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I opened my eyes
and to my surprise
there stood Dad
nodding and smiling in that way he had
plus a few added extra spectral moans
cos he was twenty years dead and mostly bones

‘Ere we are again! he said. Happy days!
scratching his pate with a coupla phalanges
How are you doin’ Jim? Tell me – how’s tricks?
Anything a stiff like me can fix?

I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes
‘Well – Dad – I said – what a lovely surprise
but I’d be lying
if I said your visit wasn’t trying
I mean it’s hard with you flying
around the place
it hardly makes
for a restful scenario
but that being said – how the hell are you?

I’ve been worse
dying’s the curse
of the living classes
lately I’d be hard put to tell you where my arse is
added to which I’ve lost my glasses
but even if I found ‘em
I haven’t got ears to hook the frames round ‘em
[but then he turned sharply;
looked at me darkly]
Mark me!
Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing
To what I shall unfold…

whoa! just a goddamn minute I said
quickly sitting up in bed
Why the dramatic shift in gear?
Why’ve you suddenly gone all Shakespeare?
You’ve got to wonder how it looks
You only ever read gardening books

Mark me!
My hour is almost come,
When I to sulph’rous and tormenting flames
Must render up myself
and you know that’s bad for my mental health

Dad – I hate to say this
but you know I’m an atheist?
which is awks
all this talk
of purgatory and damnation
well – it’s an interesting situation
and not that I’m calling you a liar
but …c’mon… really? … HELLFIRE?
What did YOU do that was so terrible?
your only crime was overcooking vegetables

You’re right, Jim!
This is way too grim
I’ve been hoodwinked! Hypnotised! Taken in!
This is what happens
when you die and time slackens
and you’re prey to religion and gothic fashions
Just imagine!
Surrounded forever by ghouls and ghosts
with apocalyptic monotheistic guff to promote

So – what’s it REALLY like then, I said
Tell me what it’s like being dead.

Well, Jim – d’you remember as a toddler, kneeling
quietly by the window on a Sunday evening
as I worked in the garden, shadows deepening
threads of smoke through the darkness weaving
invoking a sharp and poignant feeling?
well THAT’S what it’s like, but 24/7
and whether that’s hell or whether that’s heaven
is a completely different kinda question

And with that he vanished in a cackle of smoke
And I fell back asleep and when I awoke
completely forgot the words he spoke
(mental note: keep a pad by the bed
or shit like this goes out of your head)

the legend of king midas

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Once there was a king called Midas
a notorious tight ass
who loved gold more than anything
ending up spending
his whole life inspecting
all the krugerrands he was collecting
counting them in giant hoppers
stacking them in iron coffers

then Dionysus
sayeth unto Midas
mate – you’ll give yourself dermatitis
find yourself a healthier hobby
this gold love’s giving you a flabby body
no said Midas
I’m sorry but I don’t need you to guide us
it’s only gold these days excites us

so Dionysus
spaketh with his advysus
and offereth Midas
one big wish
to teach him the evils of being rich
and Midas said he wanted everything he touched
to turn to gold, thanks very much

and lo!
(an old Greek way of saying so)
Dionysus gave the godly nod to go
and whaddya know
everything suddenly went 24 carat
from his wife and daughter to a pomegranate
Midas couldn’t believe his luck
I mean – sure, he can’t eat – but what the actual?

prologue to The Book of You’re Lucky to Have a Job

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment
  1. In the land of UK lived a man who was lucky to have a job. His name was Bob. He was a salt-of-the-earth, straight-up, say-it-how-it-is kinda geezer. Feared The Lord Tory and avoided Socialism in all its demonic forms. Supported West Ham, for his sins.
  2. Bob had a big family. Not Catholic, just careless.
  3. He was a butcher. Owned a nice house. Was doing alright, as it goes.
  4. His kids had all left home, but they lived local and still came round for a Sunday roast and what have you. Which was nice.
  5. One day, some City Angels and a dodgy geezer called Stan came before The Lord Tory. And The Lord Tory said Alright? And Stan and the angels said Not bad, as it goes. You? And The Lord Tory said ‘Can’t complain. And if I did, who’d listen? And Stan said Tell me about it, mate. And The Lord Tory said See that guy down there? That’s Bob. He’s well solid, Bob is. Puts in the hours, no matter what. You won’t find a worker like him.
  6. I bet you anything you like we can turn his sorry ass around, said Stan. You’re on! said The Lord Tory. Your loss, my friend. You can do whatever you like short of Covid.
  7. So Stan crashed the markets. Made energy so expensive Bob’s kids all froze. Bankrupted Bob’s business. Cut his benefits. Increased the cost of living so he couldn’t eat properly. Undermined the Health Service so Bob had to wait hours for an ambulance when he was having a stress-related heart attack. Sold off anything that wasn’t nailed down. Turned the public purse into a cashpoint for foreign interests. Corrupted the government. Passed repressive legislation to keep it that way. Supported brutal regimes internationally, then bragged about being world leaders in everything with absolutely nothing to back it up, to the extent that the country Bob loved became an international laughing stock, or an illustration of what not to do. Drove Bob insane reading about it all on social media.
  8. Till Bob sank to his knees in the street as the bailiffs repossessed his house, wailing and crying, tearing at his beard and his clothes, saying: ‘The Lord Tory gave, and The Lord Tory has taken away! May the name of The Lord Tory be praised!’
  9. At which point The Lord Tory smacked his hands together and sayeth: See what I mean, boys? Lovely jubbly! C’mon you horny red devils – cough up…

dog fit

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Do dogs look like their owners?
Or vice versa?
(in which case
I’m a long-haired
type of inertia)

The reason I ask
is because on the last
coupla walks
I’ve stopped to talk
with a guy out running with his Vizsla
we don’t say much in particzsla
just stuff about the weathzsla
etcetzsla

I have to admit they’re a gorgeous pair!
panting and smiling there
jogging on the spot
stretching their hams and whatever they’ve got
totally working the woodland path
like a before and after photograph
both in headbands
fluorescent bibs
rangy legs and sculpted ribs
gold button eyes
hyper expressions
like they’ve only got a half of one second
to spare from their morning workout session
whereas me n’Stanley
on the other hand
shaggy and gangly
slouch across
like two stoned hippies lost
at Glastonbury
accidentally
wandering into the Wellness Zone
where dogs and owners are brushed & toned
running on treadmills for carbless bones
and we watch and wonder how driven they are
then wander off looking for Shangri-La

But hey
it’s okay
the guy just chose the breed
best designed to meet his needs
active, smart, with a burst of speed
something to help him finally achieve
those cardio-stats and great PBs
all downloaded for social sharing
from the lime green BarkBit bands they’re wearing

unexpected items in the bagging area

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

unexpected items in the bagging area
Dishy Rishi stashing the loot in
a bank account Infosys bagged off Putin;
Jeremy Hunt in a rented suit
for a cosplay cabinet photoshoot

unexpected items in the bagging area
a stop motion claymation Boris Johnson
trading looks with Gloria Swanson;
Michelle Mone in a golden basque
where it came from please don’t ask;

unexpected items in the bagging area
Nadim Zahawi’s market forces
ripping off nurses, heating horses;
Jacob Rees-Mogg and his coffin of fixes
Haribo haloes and crucifixes

unexpected items in the bagging area
Therese Miscoffelees in an amateur CATS
chewing the sets and smoking rats;
Oliver Dowdy stuck in a lift
giving his reflection pretty short shrift

unexpected items in the bagging area
Suella Braverman in beard and moustaches
plastic nose and big dark glasses;
Grant ‘Thor’ Shapps and his mythical hammer
on his way home to Tory Valhalla

Please wait! Someone is coming to assist you…

don’t give up the day job

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

don’t give up the day job
give up your dreams instead
resign yourself
to a life on the shelf
forget about your mental health
a dusty soul, a rusty heart
a destiny that fails to start

don’t give up the day job
what else d’you think you’ll do?
be realistic
you’re a statistic
no grounds at all to be optimistic
nothing you say is funny or special
join the line of empty vessels

don’t give up the day job
it suits you more than you know
glorified clerk
is about your mark
a low watt bulb in the general dark
years like leaves piling up in the yard
a bottle of wine, a birthday card

don’t give up the day job
you need us more than ever
it’s time to lose
the life you choose
you’ll end up drunk with a nasty bruise
a bonafide liability
so take a seat in our facility

don’t give up the day job
learn to knuckle down
stay on track
don’t look back
till you flatline after a heart attack
and look to us for guidance
– two thumbs up for good compliance

too hot for hats, actually

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

there was freezing fog
so I got togged up
to take the dog
for a jog
over the woods
(I wanted to say ‘bog’
but although it’s muddy
it’s short on frogs)

so
over my clothes
I pulled a cammo waterproof I chose
because it made me look like one of those
rough n tough commandos
I suppose
the kind of do-or-die
what-the-hell, all-weather guy
who, given the choice, would rather be dry

Stanley watched me, well-rehearsed
his expression that of a lurcher cursed

then lastly I took
my favourite beanie off the hat hook
like some kind of arty identity cook
mixing ingredients from a recipe book
to arrive at the perfectly balanced look

and with my ears nice n’snug
clipped on his lead and gave it a tug

now

I know you think I’m an exaggerator
but barely twenty minutes later
I was gasping hot as an alligator
in an overheated swamp around the equator
(if that’s where you find those toothy perps;
if not I’ll come back and redact the verse)

status update XXXVI

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I’m lurching, searching, anything it takes / amoxicillin on a birthday cake / the teddy bear witness they thought was bluffing / squatting on the toybox shitting his stuffing

I’m a cruiser in the loser lounge / snoozing as the booze goes round / thumbs up, heels high, head down / suddenly taking myself to task / with a mobile phone and a 7 day pass / getting all zombie on your ass / calling and crawling on broken glass

I’m a kiwi fruit at banana time / Can’t Touch This by Rodgers & Hammer Time

I’m Theseus lost on a stag night / a minotaur with a maglite / don’t sweat it, it’s alright / the monsters they have for hire these days / are fully licensed to work in the maze

That’s me in the corner, a little bit awks / the deadhead opposite of great Ted Talks / body of a model on the bones of a horse / pretty much gone by all reports / a pair of cheap trainers, some boxer shorts

I’m heading to the river with a pocket of stones / a heart full of dreams, a head full of ringtones / is there room on the broom for a shit like me? / singing, talking endlessly / relentlessly / while miles below our dangling feet / the water sparkles cold and deep

I kneel to a bearded God in heaven / with my dog, my shades and my AK47

I’m boozy & cruisy / big time bougie / Willy Wonka wasted & woozy / looking for love and no longer choosy

I’m the Conservatives on a right wing Odyssey / with a flatpack sense of western democracy / dodgy money and rampant autocracy / the whole thing so broken it’s a total shock to me / talk to me / this patient needs urgent electoral surgery / wheel him straight through for a Toryotomy

So relax and let me take you back ta / the experience that was Margaret Thatcher / iron lady comin’ right at ya / you’d need a Peter Jackson to manufacture / that hairdo, handbag, demonic stature
she’s all like:
where there’s discord, bring forth harmony
where there’s riot, bring forth army
where there’s despair, bring forth hope
trident missiles and a periscope

GOTCHA!