poems

status update XXXII

~ jim clayton ~ 6 Comments

It’s the Season of Sorry, the Year of The Splat / the country in chains, the Cat in the Hat / dreaming of heating & stuff like that / while traders call waiters with finger snaps / for fat cigars and a round of schnapps / chin chin old boy for the cool collapse / stuffing their pockets with Scooby snacks / while politicians lube-up, ready to practise / on the people least able to bear the taxes / okay, relax – this won’t hurt / we’ll go nice n’slow as we lovingly convert / public services to public desert / and we do so thank you for your effort / yeah? been there, done that, got the t-shirt

I’m a pay rise in amber, a fossilised note / I’m a stand-in Lansbury on Murder She Wrote / the iceberg lettuce that sank the boat / eeny, meeny, minority vote / lock the gates and fill the moat / pack off your children somewhere remote / in God we trust but the rest we yoke / and greed thereto I plight thee my troth / fetch more butter ‘cos I think we’re toast

thought police don’t stop for lunch / a ham baton and a chocolate crunch / too busy being the worst of the bunch / ceaselessly waging their war on woke / cos truth’s in dispute and history’s broke / and not for the likes of you ordinary folk / certain words’ll make you choke / so stick to McFacts and Diet Coke / and try to sound a little more stoked / and whatever you do, don’t provoke us / hold that shit and stay focused / think of the positives / we’ll take care of where the profit is / (offshore accounts and safe depositories)

I’m a sarky old soak, a sneaky insider / a hot ghost laughing in the hadron collider / cackling we’re fifteen seconds from disaster / technicians sneering & saying who asked her

I’m too bright to look at, too rich to tax / handshakes, signatures, sealing wax / a corporate snort in a kevlar tux / putting on lippy on the lip of the vortex / but don’t freak out, don’t stress your cortex / take to the floor and I’ll show you some more steps / you can zumba with zombies, waltz with the dead / cha cha with changes and ballet with bread / we sympathise with how you’re feeling / now leave us alone for some insider dealing

I’m Wile E. Coyote running off the canyon / flapping his arms looking straight to camera

mars trip checklist

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

a big box of tree seedlings
notepads and pens for daily meetings
some delicious chewy things
like licorice and wine gums
five guns
okay maybe just one gun
okay then no guns
a bunch of badges with hilarious slogans
like Mars or Bust
Terraformers are Us
or maybe God’s Okay but in Hydrothermal Power Generation We Trust
a chess set
a Sopranos box set
some hazelnut noisette
a toothbrush, pick and floss set
something else important here I forget
a dog and cat
in pet-friendly hazmat
a Welcome to Mars doormat
a floppy, anti cosmic and ionising radiation sun hat
a book on how to build your own waterless laundromat
a book on what people really mean when they say they just want a chat
an exercise bike
t-shirts to hang on an exercise bike
a rubbish chute to dispose of an exercise bike
a resourceful and impossibly cute robot called Mike
who has backpacks and jet sleds to go on a hike
whose enthusiasm levels can sometimes spike
so he’s got a big mute switch you can throw if you like
a ukulele
a book of ukulele chords to practice daily
a rubbish chute to dispose of a smashed ukulele
a safe room for people to think about why certain things trigger them disproportionately
and to understand there’s no transport back to earth for at least five more years unfortunately
some cute flags for waving
some baby cream for chafing
66,770 gallons of liquid hydrogen
a bumper pack of vitamins
some LSD and Ketamine
MDMA and Amphetamines
Hey? What do you mean?
Of course I’m clean!
I’m joshin’ with ya Geraldine
but yes – okay – a drug testing machine
some potatoes
some shelters good for dust tornadoes
some postcards from Barbados
to stick up on the windows
with blurry family photos
and those trips you made with your bros
look at those beautiful, crazy ass mo-fos
back down on Earth doing amazing things I suppose
who knows
yo
Mars was here and someone had to go
Did anyone else volunteer? No
so
Who do we send? Jim
J.I.M
Just Jim
Jim and the Uke Duke, Tiny Tim
and his sister, General Geraldine
who send me instructions from behind a screen
but I know what they’re REALLY up to
which is why I’m playing a little game I like to call Oxygen Interrupto…

[…this is where the transmission stops;
we’ll tell you more when the rescue ship docks]

the wonderful world of nature

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I read a remarkable
migration article
about the Arctic Tern
which, as far as birds are concerned,
travels the most
not just coast to coast
but pole to pole
an aerial stroll
that runs the gamut
of every known weather system on the planet
and just to be clear
not just once but twice a year
22,000 miles or so
Why do they do it? Just bored, I suppose

Stanley
on the other handley
is an inveterate loafer
barely migrating from the sitting room sofa
twice a day, north to south
to hoover biscuits into his mouth

stanlet, Act III, Scene I

~ jim clayton ~ 2 Comments

To pee, or not to pee, that is the question:
Whether it is nobler in the hound to suffer
The tugs and drags of outraged humans,
Or to lift a leg against a range of objects
And by sprinkling, wet them. To pee – to wee,
And more; and by a wee to say we end
The bladder ache and thousand natural spots
That dogs are heir to: ‘tis a micturition
Devoutly to be wished. To pee, to wazz;
To seep, perchance to stream – ay, there’s the job:
For in that leak of length what hounds may come
When we have shuffled along this mortal trail,
Must stay our paws – there’s the respect
That marks the territory of so long a walk.
For who would bear the cats and squirrels of time,
The weather’s wrong, the delivery man’s contumely,
The pangs of owner’s love, the snack’s delay,
The absence of sofas, and the spurns
That patient moan of the late walk takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare foreskin? Who would gardens bear,
To run and fetch with frisbee light,
But that the dread of something after supper,
The bare blanket’d basket from whose bourn
No hound returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear the owners we have
Than fly to owners that we know not of?
Thus rambles doth make bladders of us all,
And thus the straw coloured hue of micturition
Is trickled o’er the cast iron lampost,
And enterprises of great piss and moment
In this regard their currents go a’spray
And wet the name of action – Woof you now!
The fair Brodie! Nymph, in thy haunches
Be all my sins remember’d.

status update XXXI

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I put the Frank in Stein, the Mork in Mindy / I’m Jacob Rees-Mogg with a kid up the chimney / I’m a flat-pack character, a no-good hack / a messiah for hire and coming back / with a clockwork cock and a brain to match / two left feet & rainbow thatch / so get on the blower and call dispatch / it’s your lucky day, people – I’m unattached

I’m habeas coruptus / government interruptus / many more suckers than you’d see on an octopus / but it shouldn’t be a shock to us / the cost to us / it’s nothing personal just profit & loss to us / heads I win tails you lose / turn the other cheek and take the bruise / make your bed or make your move / there’s nothing left for you to prove / be like Madonna, get into the groove

They say there’s one born every minute / promised the earth but the sky’s the limit / even if you don’t question what’s in it / you’re complicit / who cares how sweetly you timed the visit / If I die before I wake / I pray the lord to send tornadoes and earthquakes / the howling spirits of underworld namesakes / battalions of bugs roughly my birth weight / a couple of discount plagues would be great / okay? / hey? / whaddya say? / if you could get back to me some time today / sooooo / I suppose what I really want you to know / is I’m not some putz you can just let go

And lo! The terrible lightning flashes! / and the phoenix screams and rises from the ashes / but instantly flips and spectacularly crashes / well – we are where we are / another scorched hen propping up the bar / hell – I coulda been a contender / I just needed luck and some better weather / an arse-load of slightly less flammable feathers

So we break the glass and grease the locks / drag another puppet outta the box / Robin in a hoodie, a wolf in socks / Coma Beauty, Puss in crocs / a text just arrived from Goldilocks / diagnosed with Stockholm syndrome / forcibly sprung from the magic kingdom / a fairytale intervention / but now she says she misses the bears / on witness protection in wigs n’flares / sitting alone at the top of the stairs

I’m sorry – I had a bad dose of The Clowns / the virus gone viral and doing the rounds / I came out in squeaks and my pants fell down / vomited confetti / all over the settee / my smile red n’wild and my wigged brains heady / till I swapped my horn for a sharp machete / woke up with lions on the Serengeti

but enough about me – how are YOU?

stranded

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

mum liked to go to hunstanton
a day out by the sea
she’d go for a walk on the wide, wet sands
then head to a cafe for tea

once she saw a whale there
stranded when the tide went out
people dug teeth for souvenirs
took selfies by the snout

she didn’t like to see it, poor thing
it looked so lost on the beach
something so private and alien
suddenly in reach

but everything dies: whales, mums
it’s just the way things go
everyone tries to take life as it comes
and stay buoyant I suppose

it’s funny how these memories fall
what shadows move beneath
wide, wet sands of nothing at all
a stranded whale on a beach

McQuaide: Specs of Fury

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I like to do things MY own sweet way
when it comes to trash I’m not trustin’
(fight scene in an alleyway;
kung fu with a dustbin)

I can see you fellas are itchin’
but lunch won’t take a minute
(fight scene in a kitchen;
kung fu with a skillet)

Head Keeper? Well sir – how d’ya do!
you look the real patootie
(fight scene in the city zoo;
kung fu with an agouti)

Okay, fellas! Let me try to explain
I’ll go slow to make it easy
(fight scene on a commuter train;
kung fu with parcheesi)

Tell your boss McQuaide said no
but just to make things simple
(fight scene at a historical fashion show;
kung fu with a wimple)

musical bones

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

when I was maybe five or six
I was all fixed
to make a speech
to some visiting puppeteers who each
were supposed to get
a fancy pencil in a presentation set
as a way of letting them know
how grateful we were for their marionette show

so

I sat in the audience, ready to go

‘Thank you for coming to our school
we enjoyed the show and we hope that you’ll…’

and so on
trouble was I didn’t know when to go on

the show opened
with a skeleton
playing xylophone
on its ribs

I sat there anxiously playing with the nibs

the skeleton was cute!
played its arm like a flute!
a leg bone like a cornet!
the whole school adored it!
unfortunately I ignored it
too busy going over my lines
under my breath a hundred times

and then suddenly it was done
the skeleton was gone
and even though it was barely a minute
still I jumped up to thank them for the visit

the curtains shot up again; the show carried on
I was grabbed by the shirt and I sat back down

the moral of this story?
relax! don’t worry!
focus on the essentials
skeletons not pencils