She Chose A Black and White Sid Vicious and Johnny Rotten Photograph

With Baader-Meinoff Gang Mugshots In The Background, For The Shithouse Wall

[Defiant] hands Clasped we Swaggered,
laughing like naughty children,
past the [Angry] Demonstrators
… who were AGAINST…
well, everything by the looks of it.
The sound of drifting ‘copter blades
invaded the countryside, an hour later
… as we argued [Out of Selfishness]
over the GREATEST FUCKING
PICNIC… the World has ever SEEN!
Attempting to Fix the afternoon…
we tried Make-Up Sex, Sick Insults,
[Vocal] Sucker-Punches and Threats
of Abandonment and Future Neglect
… anything but ‘Apologising’…
“I’m only ‘Sincere’ about WINNING!”
Fuck her, I left in my Prime…
scowling my way through Suburbia
… I eventually broke-in [Through
The Roof] of a Recycling Plant…
and set about constructing a Sculpture
out of Beer Cans and Evo-Stik tins
[The Breakfast Of Punk Champions].
It ended-up resembling 2 Pedestrians
Stabbing-Each-Other-The-Fuck-Up
… I Christened my new Masterpiece
‘In 2022 Crimes Of Passion [Dilute]
and become Extracurricular Activity.’
I caught a bus back to the Squat Area
and sat behind a teenager on his phone
… I smirked, as I conversation-listened
“When they finally nab-me for a Big 1
… I’ve got some ‘Straining Violins’
downloaded, ready to press PLAY…
the very moment before I fucking Reach,
all Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid!”

* This poem was constructed, in its entirety, from ‘previously discarded sentence fragments’ from the Cutting Room Floor of a middle of June day when I mentally dropped the leash.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.