“So, you sprinted out into the street,
the one only the ne’er-do-wells use,
being chased by something…
that you later could not explain
without sounding off your rocker
… straight into the path
of a two-manned prowling patrol car.
When asked how you had traversed
around the pitch black woodland?
without any light, not even a phone…
you replied ‘Intuition’ and ‘Instinct’.
They proceed with a pocket search
and get excited when finding ‘Drugs’,
only your calm exterior and ‘smirk’
unsettles them, so they check again
… re-evaluating, and finally deciding
in disgust, it’s 3 pieces of animal shit…
whereupon, you declare ‘Owl Pellets’
… what’stha? they ask in unison
and you respond with ‘Google-It.’
They’re about to arrest you
for being ‘Confusing’ and ‘Creepy’
… unless you agree to a little spin
to the Station so they can properly
assess if there’s actually a ‘Problem?’
You reply ‘Ta Very Much But Nay’
… and then inform them
of the ‘Blood’ incident a month ago,
when it transpired to actually be
your very own ‘Blood’ in the jar
… and that ‘Harassment’ is as Real
and just as Ugly as ‘Witch-Burning’.
This, makes them step back slightly
… and warn you, with sincerity
to stay away from ‘Decent People’
… you agree, wholeheartedly,
adding ‘I’ve yet to meet any of ‘em’
before walking off half-backwards
until disappearing… into a side lane.”

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.