No More Screaming Riots

… sound as a pound, mun…

She is sweetly ‘Smiling’
The Sun [Tarot Card]
… as I am mangling
a Violin by plucking
and strumming it
like a [Fucking] Banjo.
“That’s cute, boy…
but, you’ll go to Hell
for it, I’m sure.”
… and we laugh…
“Yeah? You obviously
haven’t seen my
extremely looonnnggg
and horrible Criminal
Record.” I smirk-back.
We are becoming
‘Looser’, a little more
a belt-hole at a time…
‘Opening-Up’ slowly,
carefully, Reciprocally.
“No, but, I’ve seen you
run up a vertical wall
to put a house sparrow
chick back in its nest
… then, aggressively
push a queue-jumping
Burberry Chav
right onto his arse,
in front of his horrified
girlfriend an hour later
to everyone’s applause.”

* ‘Mun’ is a Welsh word that doesn’t actually mean anything, it’s simply used to add emphasis to whatever it is that you’re saying.

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.