poems

le Cabaret du Néant

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I fully meant to write a poem
about the horrible direction the world was going
and honestly people I did my best
but ended up reading about the Cabaret of Nothingness
a niche little venue in old Montmartre
for jaded Parisians with a taste for the macabre
(just next door to the Cabaret of the Sky
with the Cabaret of the Inferno pretty close by)
the maitre D spoke in sombre tones
under chandeliers fashioned from human bones,
a skeleton sat in the corner with a pipe
while monks drifted round asking what you’d like
cocktails and juices, freshly squeezed
everything named after a poison or disease
and I looked at the photo from 1920
at the bowler-hatted and pearl-roped gentry
sitting quite grimly and wondering why
they didn’t buy tickets for the Cabaret of the Sky
and it suddenly struck me everyone in that pic
would all be dead now and it gave me the ick
like – one minute you’re cool but the next thing you know
you’re a fading image in a pepper ghost show
and the moral, please? I hear you ask
if death’s on the billboard – just walk past

interview with a billionaire

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

my very first billion I’ll never forget
flying home in my private jet
staring down at the country below
thinking about the poor, you know
how I’d buy them up in a finger snap
and wipe them off the face of the map
saving just a thousand vassals
to cook and clean in my country castles
I’m planning a great big statue to me
hands on hips, looking out to sea
all in gold, rubies for eyes
a crown of quite prodigious size
everything in the best armour clad
with room on the head for a landing pad
a comical feature to make it complete
squashed underneath my gigantic feet
a million bodies cast in bronze
to illustrate where my profits are from
sigh
the only thing about all this money
it just makes everything else look crummy
now – take my picture and get the hell out
you’ll be wanting wads of cash no doubt
but if I find it’s a nasty piece
expect a visit from my private police

curse of the red shirt

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I wanted to be Frodo
I showed them my walk
they said good god oh no
and made me an orc

I wanted to be Luke
my sword work was super
but my smile made them puke
so they made me a trooper

I wanted to be Jones
I said I was smart – see?
when I answered the phone
I’d been cast as a nazi

I wanted to be Jack
gave the reading plenty
when they called me back
I was pirate #20

ikeavengers assemble

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Sliderman
does whatever a sliderman can
while still wearing socks
but moved on from crocs
bought them off Etsy
seriously expects he
looks hygge and sexy
squeaking off to answer the door
lime green rubber on laminate floor

Supermarketman
pushes a trolley and parks it man
antisocially across the row
so HE can easily shop n’go
while other shoppers mutter n’curse
and wave their fists and go in reverse
struggling to get to the chiller desserts
thinking they might
just toss the tosser some kryptonite

Thaw
wrenches open the freezer door
flails about in a furious manner
bashes away with a big claw hammer
clunking out hunks
of ice in chunks
pies n’burgers expired a month
soaked to his crocs
roaring it’s worse than Ragnarok

Honda C90

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

Mum began it, neatly and discreetly
backhanding a table tennis champ
in an old Cortina conveniently off ramp
later, got caught
on a badminton court
shuttlecocking
or something shocking
I think there was a baby?
not Dad’s maybe?
it’s all a bit hazy
meanwhile, Dad rode distance
to see his sister
he insisted
but suspiciously
dressed a little too lightly
for a ride down to Devon on a Honda C90
I’m guessing it was Margaret
the woman in the local supermarket
we saw one week
when she stopped us to speak
by the discounted meat
‘Have you told her yet?’ she said
staring at dad as she ruffled my head

3 verses from the Book of Equivocations

~ jim clayton ~ Leave a comment

I
You ask for succour but there’s none in our pockets. We spent it all on guns and rockets.

II
God offered his cheek to one that wouldst smite him. But then when he learned the meaning of smite He rolled up his sleeves and said ‘Okay! Right!’ And took the guy’s ear off in one big bite. Then Jesus stepped in to break up the fight. And they all ended up in the cells for the night.

III
Let us love one another for love is from God. And whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. And God knows we need a bit of love right now. So to recap – love one another because God is love and love God and get that love in as SOON as you can, PLEASE, because I’ve seen how He acts when the love gets squeezed. Earthquakes, wars, cancers, bugs – all these and more when you ration the hugs. God is everything, including your ass, so any questions best not ask. Show a bit of fealty. That sound real to ye?