in the beginning
was the word
and the word was QUARK
which knocked all the other words
outta the park
and God saw the word and said it was good
acting like He understood
what the hell a quark even WAS
which was quarkward because
He created it
and it was all a bit complicated
and it’d be another aeon or two
before Feynman came along to talk things through
I was good
did everything
they said I should
got the app, logged on
collected all my pokemon
and now my numbers finally up
I’m ready for my Happy McPlot
efficiently served in a paper McCoffin
with a life receipt and a golden napkin
it’s easy being a monk in a monastery
holy bones in a gilded reliquary
a simple chapel that overlooks
startling cliffs with crows and rooks
dusty latin from dusty books
comfortable sandals
tapers and candles
luminous eyes on painted panels
try being a monk in A&E
3AM on a Saturday
biblical scenes of evil and good
up to your beards in vomit and blood
sirens in the neighbourhood
aprons and cannulas
wisecracking janitors
flatlining prayers on cardiac monitors
jack’s mum
says son
we’re out of credit
take the cow and sell it
jack meets a guy
who offers to buy
the cow with some crack & amphetamines
and a handful of organic, magic beans
thanks says jack
smokes the crack
takes the beans
shoves them in his jeans
gets home
says helloooo?
mum I sold daisy
shows her the beans, his mum goes crazy
can’t find the words for his worthlessness
gets straight on the phone to social services
then chucks the beans out the window
but her fingers must be green ‘cos next thing you know
an enormous beanstalk grows overnight
like a leafy green elevator spiralling outta sight
jack likes it
straightaway climbs it
finds a castle of gigantic parameters
a sign saying no cold callers, salespersons or canvassers
naturally jack breaks in
slowly takes in
the fogeyish, ogreish decor
coins in boxes, bones on the floor
a speaking harp, etcetera
the usual fairy tale ephemera
just then
in comes bustin’
the ogre himself
jack jumps up on a nearby shelf
fee fi fo fum
I can’t remember the rest so I’ll hum
which he does
then falls asleep immediately
suffering from fairy tale narcolepsy
out jumps Jack
to stuff his sack
with coins, goose, harp, loot
then sprints for the door with the ogre in pursuit
jack does parkour
so he hits the floor
a full minute before
the ogre who roars
but a happy ending lacks
because jack cuts the beanstalk down with an axe
so his mum is made up
all the bills paid up
and they live off the coins and the eggs the goose lays
because the moral of the story is crime always pays
Land of hope and glory
Mother of the free
(unless it interferes with
foreign currency)
Wider still and wider
Shall thy bounds be set
(especially if you’re flying
in a private jet)
Land of hope and glory
Mother of the free
Human rights are sacred
(so pay anonymously)
Wider still and wider
Shall thy funds be got
(unless you’re lower order
in which case that’s your lot)
Land of hope and glory
Mother of the free
(It’s easy to extort thee
when you’re on your knees)
well – good!
so there IS a god
which being an atheist I find quite odd
but happily
She covers my faux pas tactfully
fundamentally matter-of-factly
in many ways actually
for a deity
She’s pretty understanding
doesn’t go in for growling and grandstanding
all that severely bearded fierceness
all that begat this and that weirdness
all that mad muscular masculine business
no – She’s better than that
She’s great with horses, ferns, cats
plate tectonics, stuff like that
knows a river delta from a bedding plane
the ins and outs of a semi-permeable membrane
a cos lettuce from a romaine
a cell phone from cellophane
I mean pretty much generally
you’d have to say academically
She’s highly advanced
happy to give things a second chance
although humans
I’m assuming
are pushing it
there’s only so much She can do to cushion it
before She sighs, shrugs, flushes the tubes
pulls another Chicxulub
(the crater’s there though you’d hardly know it
still – it capped things off in the Cenozoic)
(with apologies to R&H)
nose drops on biscuits and CGI melons
hot gramps in boot camps with wisecracking felons
cheap metal houseflies with bacofoil wings
these are a few of my fabulous things
brown paper kittens with wallpaper mittens
sneakers that creak on the feet of clinicians
parboiling gargoyles in tar from the springs
these are a few of my fabulous things
when the shark bites
when my pee stings
when I’m feeling rad
I simply remember my fabulous things
and then I don’t feel so bad
I’m done, finished, whacked-out, beat
so far off my aching feet
I’d need a telescope to tell them apart
a scientist pointing them out on a chart
ten toes throbbing in the constellation of sox
a light year away, give or take a coupla blocks
I’m weary, exhausted, a waning moon
deflating like a party balloon
a clown tied quickly, grinning like hell
but didn’t finish the knot that well
so now it’s just a baggy mess
and what kinda animal ANYONE’S guess
it’s not just low tide
it’s totally no tide
like the ocean
had the notion
to turn round and quit
all that idle, tidal, diurnal shit
this is not a simulation
this is an uh-oh, here we go, no flow type situation
King Neptune burbles: you blind barbarians!
you’ve totally crapped up my beautiful aquarium!
but honestly, Neppie – you can talk
your trident’s nothing but a plastic fork
your armour’s made of bottle tops, your beard’s a bag
your crown’s a pack ring and your net’s a drag
so spare us the pelagic rodomontade
it’s real life flipper and it’s not that hard
get yourself used to the world being fishless
and maybe cross surfing off your wishlist
Well!
Hell!
WHAT a lot to tell!
I was outside picking daisies
when dodgy uncle Hades
showed up in his Mercedes
we’re off to the underworld he said
so effectively dead
I said
can’t we go to Skiathos instead?
nope
this time of year, no hope
so he took me to the underworld
one word?
underwhelmed
the decor?
hardcore
the lighting?
frightening
basically an underground storage facility
for deadheads shuffling around unpredictably
in various states of invisibility
a bit like a Club Med holiday
for the damned
where none of the activities go as planned
anyway – thanks for pulling that crop stunt, mum
I can’t believe Hades would be so dumb
my bags are packed, my passport valid
I’ll be off when I’ve finished this pomegranate salad
jim clayton 