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7 poems

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7 poems
by Chris Byrne

Lacoste tattooed on my chest
Catchy jingle on my mind
When I blink I see negatives
Of cola logos and golden arches
Conspicuous consumption has diffused
Through my pores into me

Cars go by
Hissing with the sound of amplified hi-hats
Some slide by like rattle snakes
Others sound like dodgy kettles

Clubbing in Aldershot. Shite
As the deejay piles pure piano tuna
On hard cheesebag endlessly
Anybody who is nobody
Will soon walk through that door
Life is not hard in here
Just a lot of it is para trained
Major structural damage is being inflicted upon the premises
By the mattress backs
( Not mutton dressed as lamb
But offal packaged as mutton )
Waddling in time to the big numbas
It feels like the roof is about to cave in
My dandruff is glowin' under the UV light
Oh the glamour

The Closed Circuit Teardops
In this takeaway town
No one gives a fuck
Everything has a short shelf-life
Jobs, marriages and friendships
Modern life seems to be made of many Velcro relationships
Pushed together
Torn apart
Please don't crush my Styrofoam heart
It will not decompose
It can not be recycled
You smoulder like a cigarette
Not extinguished by this ashtray town
It is not the cigarette that counts
It is the packet that matters
The electric light in this room is so strong
It feels like it is bleaching my head and hands
In this town there is no scenic route
Nothing is in black and white
Just grey

I am the spirit of retro youth culture
A costumed crisis living in a costume drama
I am the process of what was cool
Reaching room temperature
I live in inverted commas
In a self-imposed cartoon
I am excitement for those who like routine
Smiling knowingly
Today is of little value
I prefer the good old days before I was born
I deny the creative possibility of young blood
Or am I just fancy dress for a far too serious world?

I like to play on words
Like they are blades of grass
In a field
On a sunny day
I do not use artificial fertiliser on my words
Just pure bull shit

Provisional Poetic Licence
I have passed the theory
But not the practical
I tend to look in the rear view mirror too much
I am not good at reading the signs and signals
The fast lane is sometimes too fast for me
I have blindspots in my windscreen as well
I am not good at indicating
Giving way
Or racing
Music distracts my concentration
I wear a seatbelt
I seem to drive better on my own

© Chris Byrne 1998

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