Winter Dwelling A British Long Barrow

It’s really strange but I can’t get depressed,
there’s just something about the place
… I mean, I know that we’re pretty cosy,
all neatly tucked-away together, like…
but, still, it’s different to buses or tarpauling.
Oh no way, it’s the opposite to creepy
… it’s Sunday afternoon duck pond calm,
and we randomly get the ‘Giggles’ daily.
Apart from, I don’t even like to say, really…
well, ‘Sex’, yeah, then I get a bit paranoid,
and it doesn’t matter who I’m doing it with
… you just feel kinda ‘Surrounded’…
nah mate, we all vacate when folk couple
… yeah, that’s what I mean, it’s the ‘Energy’
it changes completely, atmosphere ignites
… it’s one of the most natural ‘Magics’, so
… Kathy (our ‘Third-Eye’) reckons
that ‘They’ like to come closer to the ‘Fire’
… it’s the ‘Intensity’ of the ‘Climax’…
because, straight afterwards they move back
and give you Spiritual breathing space again.
But yeah, I think that they like us here…
we’re respectful enough, and good people…
we’re just dimension-intertwined with ‘em,
sharing a ‘Space’ for a single timeless Season.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.