poems

almost sure this is you

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I needed a baby photo of me

for the Christmas advent calendar tree

the departmental bosses

were putting in the office

five pounds to enter

to play through December

guessing who’s what

winner gets the pot

I could do with the extra income

so I phoned mum

to see if she could send me some

she posted back a single snap

written in biro on the back:

ALMOST SURE THIS IS YOU

it was my daughter aged two

when I rang to point this out

she said there was plenty of room for doubt

and anyway – maybe I’d go a bit mad

if I’d squeezed out as many as she had

exit

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

in the end his desk was easy to clear

I hear

as he was never officially there

cumming & going

like a malign version

of the downing st cat

in a beanie hat

JD trainers & slacks

and instead of a collar

a lanyard offering top dollar

if the wearer should be found

wandering hopelessly around

ONCE RECOVERY POSITIVELY CONFIRMED

£500 IF NOT RETURNED

BJ style guide

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

less Streep more Swanson
less Lee more Bronson
less Damon more Johnson

less Marcus Aurelius more Emperor Nero
less Diet Coke more Coke Zero
less Marvel more DC superhero

less Big Sur more Thetford
less King Arthur more King Edward
less Spongebob more Squidward

less Chippendale more Chippy
less Dior Rouge more Superdrug own-brand lippy
less Oscar Wilde more Mr Whippy

less Leibowitz more Happy Snaps
less standing ovation more slow hand claps
less Cary Grant more Grant Shapps

less family farm more pharmaceutical
less gritty documentary more hollywood musical
less callous more cuticle

less flotsam more jetsam
less hard hat more comedy stetson
less give some more get some

less fresh clean air more noisy compressor
less humming bird more heffer
less salt more Pfeffel

the general

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

hush little baby don’t say a word
papa’s gonna see his kids preferred

and if the rest all shout and stamp
papa’s gonna put them in a transit camp

and if that transit camp flares up
papa’s gonna send in the riot cops

and if those riot cops don’t win
papa’s gonna order the military in

and if the military falls back
papa’s gonna give everyone the sack

and if they all rise up as one
papa’s gonna take you on the run

and if that run ends up in a hole
papa’s gonna give you a little capsule

and if that capsule makes you sick
you’ll hear his silver pistols go click click click

[…fade to a montage of tyrants through the ages…]

status update III

~ jim clayton ~ 2 Comments

I’m Richard the Lemmingheart / Joan of Nark
I’m Jagger the Jogger rockin’ his three-wheeler roller round the park

I’m Lady Macbeth and a Glock 17
sleepwalking through her most famous scene
the multitudinous seas incarnadine

I’m Donald MacTrump
squeezing out a dump / Rude Giulianni’s hand on the pump
squatting on a ballot box back of the stump

I’m lazy Lazarus
flat out on his matarus
flicking through the funnies back of the daily papyrus
when Jesus layeth into me
and unexpectedly saith unto me
Rise, take up thy bed, and walk
glaring down at me like a holy hawk
or a gorgeous Mickey Rourke
in a toga and beard
before boxing and all that plastic surgery made him weird

access all areas at the tory halloween party

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

And it’s a very chilly welcome to the blood red carpet 
at the 2020 Tory Halloween junket

And here comes Cummings the Mummy! / Hands-outstretched & talking funny / in a dodgy dealer kinda mumble / like he’s evil incarnate but somehow humble / We LOVE his comedy trips and tumbles / his bad boy beanie, his lanyard fumbles / adorably horrible / unaccountably trouble / COMPLETELY at home amongst the rubble

Stop everything! / Here’s Gove the Thing! / with his squamous hair and swampster bling / slime slinging / gill singing / venom venting / swivel-eyed blinking / …this is definitely a look that will have your heart SINKING / But still, I hear champagne glasses CLINKING / so he’s doing alright despite what you’re thinking

Folks – if you’re got the sickness, we’ve got the pill! / Because in glides the glamorous Priti deVille / smiling as warmly as a dentist’s drill / glad-handing with languid skill / the journos from the rags until / one of them innocently questions her will / and then – yep! THERE’S the famous, homicidal chill / colder than the moon on Cemetery Hill / (if we could only distill it / we could dominate the world with it)

Once again Demonic Raab proves why he’s too Ghoul for School! / The nude headmaster with the power tool / who has everyone fooled / with his urbane smiles and arcane rules / but who’s surprisingly cruel / a look-a-like Peter O’Toole / measured, suave & cool / who lets a great white in the swimming pool

Take a look at Jenrick the Jester! / Juggling his balls of polyester / A real firm favourite with the court investors! / The corporate clown with the Poundland sceptre / As nimble with his fiddle as his back protector / Setting off all the metal detectors / hilarious and nauseating in equal measure / Casts no shadow WHATSOEVER

And finally – in rolls the Pumpkin King! / Shocking! / Watch him laughing and waving! / That’s amazing! / Now I’ve seen everything! / Those spiky teeth sawing! / All that public school squawking & guffawing! / And I suppose – who knows? – it might be entertaining / if ‘tragically horrifying’ / was your thing / So there he goes, u-turning / backsliding & backbiting / hackwriting / gaslighting & guessing / a model of fun if it wasn’t so depressing

And – oh dear! Bringing up the rear – what a pity! / Is that supposed to be Professor Chris Whitty?

I’ve got a bad feeling about this

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse
ride around aimlessly for a bit
tie their horses to rubbish skip
buy four large portions of fish and chips
struggle to eat them without any lips

well this is shit / says PLAGUE
nonplussed, kinda vague
not exactly End of Days
is it?
not our usual kinda visit

don’t be obtuse, Bruce / stay boney and loose
says CONQUEST / the meanest of the four, no contest
tossing a handful of chips down his craw
watching them tumble straight out on the floor

this is serious / there’s nothing mysterious 
about a pandemic
you of all people should know that, goddamit

PLAGUE / has nothing more to say
just waves hi / to a jogger jogging by
who takes one look at his fleshless mien
and drops down dead there and thien

oops you did it again / says FAMINE
tugging his hood around his skull
that’s me full
or as full as you can be when you’re dead
I can’t remember being this well fed

WAR / bored / balls / his empty chip wrapper
chucks it at a window cleaner
but it bounces harmlessly off his bucket
fuck it
that’s not like me
we’d better make it best of three

FAMINE shakes his head / cracks his dusty knuckles and says
I thought it’d be obvious when the world was to end
like an interview with God on CNN

well – I haven’t heard anything particular
not a squeak of someone speaking in the old vernacular
have you?

true / yawns CONQUEST / stretching his bony arms right and left
it’s one unholy mess / and I have to confess
I’m feeling a bit disillusioned / with the general confusion
why can’t we just get it over and done with
rain instant death on the people we have fun with 

PLAGUE sneezes / into the sleeve / of his cloak
CONQUEST? You crazy old croak!
you’re so witless you’re woke
you think everyone drops dead just cos you spoke?

well – d’uh! / what d’you think the Four Horsemen are for?
with names like FAMINE and CONQUEST and WAR?
we’re not called REPETITIVE COUGH or ASYMPTOMATC
it’s pathetic / too chronic
I need something supersonic / a bit more bubonic

I’m sympathetic, CONQUEST / honest / but it’s frightening
these days you need more than a horse and some lightning
but hey – don’t panic
it’s gonna get manic
we’re scratching around now but soon we’ll have plenty
when Donald Trump wins in 2020

NHS Heroes: Achilles the Podiatrist

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Achilles’ Mum was a worried nymph / obsessed with infection and the quality of lymph / convinced / if her son wasn’t rinsed / in the Stygian waters of the Styx / he’d be vulnerable to spears and typhoid and bricks / so ignoring his squeals / she dunked him by the heels / which would’ve been okay / if she’d thought to swap hands halfway / so the immunisation failed / and Achilles got nailed / with an arrow to the heel / which he hadn’t concealed / with chainmail socks and boots / but left to the air / in a fancy pair / of golden sandals / which showed off his ankles / but really? / for someone so severely / immuno-ammo-compromised? / the footwear was tragically ill-advised

NHS Heroes: Prometheus Unzipped

~ jim clayton ~ 2 Comments


Turns out Prometheus / had firestarting previous / incendiary and grievous / so the General Mythical Council / responding to the groundswell / of God-Consultant outrage / at the fiery hand Dr P had played / passed down their punishment, ad hoc / he should be chained every day to a whacking great rock / and have his liver ripped out at eagle o’clock / the first recorded implementation / of non-consensual organ donation

jesus boris

~ jim clayton ~ 1 Comment

but Boris said: Suffer little children, and forbid them not to come unto me
(so long as they don’t want any more shit for free
especially nutritionally
and stare at me hungrily
and twitter on endlessly
about food poverty
they’re just being greedy
I mean honestly
find another St Francis of Assisi
you think it’s easy
being this bright and breezy?
with all you paupers gawping and making me queasy?)

for of such is the kingdom of Tory heaven
(now DO fuck off, I’ve got luncheon at eleven)

And he laid his hands on them, and departed thence
(after tossing some lighter ones over the fence
and evicting some others for non-payment of rents
and pleading for easier public events
away from the mob and the malcontents
like proving his regal munificence
by awarding contracts like Christmas presents
to a bunch of lovers and old school friends
glad-handing oligarchs and presidents)

here endeth the lessening