by Michael Holme
I’ve had dreams like this before;
dead bodies in high-vis vests
caught in plant machinery.
Can you imagine it, semi stiff arms pointing
from dirty JCBs? I’ll STOP right there.
I’m sorry, I don’t write about roses
and springtime, new born lambs and love.
I blame it on television and video games,
ZAP, K-POW. Revenge of the Mutant Camels
was my 8-bit, pixelated, eighties diffuser of angst.
When I was a lad we’d no Duke Nukem 3D
in a million colours. We lived with sixteen.
But I dreamed in rainbows, like I do today,
and that gets me back to dumper yellow,
recurring, waking me in the night with a challenge.
It’s not real. Carnage in the quarry is my wraith.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment