by Dave Migman
Whole street’s screaming drunk
for the duration of the weekend
taking it in turns to vomit outside the pub
kids smash empties on the road.
There is an air of abandon here
across the tracks the trash spills
like lava down the embankment.
The train rumbles by
and hardly anyone glances out the carriage
they can’t beat it past their own reflections
“God you look so fucking good.”
Hot.
All the boarded up houses are burning.
They no longer send out demolition crews,
the youth’ll do it for free. To keep warm
kicked out the house along with the dogs
they don’t give a fuck what you do, or
where you go.
Across the rooftops, echoing along the avenues
rival football songs ingrained into baptised flesh.
Bottles will break tonight. Blades with flash tonight.
They’ll be pavement blooms
all across this town tomorrow. God, you look so good.
Last night a storm moved around the city
we turned out the lights
watched it strike out against us
with brilliant jolts, power hungry
flashing and rumbling
like a living thing that you feel in your veins
Showing posts with label Dave Migman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dave Migman. Show all posts
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Last Night He Was a King!
by Dave Migman
Restless, twisted sheets knotted
stomach bloated, sick, pressed
by an insufferable weight
lung bunched butterflies
silent clocks
a plateau of new-found agonies
strapped to a laughing monkey
on a carousel of grotesques
always the street
always the sound
always sirens
the revellers that feed them
A thread passes through me
I slide slowly down
naked in this bed
with a bloated gut
all that trapped air
hot air of nights drunken
slow night evaporating
in a dying world
Restless, twisted sheets knotted
stomach bloated, sick, pressed
by an insufferable weight
lung bunched butterflies
silent clocks
a plateau of new-found agonies
strapped to a laughing monkey
on a carousel of grotesques
always the street
always the sound
always sirens
the revellers that feed them
A thread passes through me
I slide slowly down
naked in this bed
with a bloated gut
all that trapped air
hot air of nights drunken
slow night evaporating
in a dying world
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Story told me
by Dave Migman
They were arguing
over the day’s takings
he says
he took more than she
she that hers were greater
he’d miscounted
furious she took her wad
and ripped it
clean in half and
threw it in his face
furious he took his lighter
and set his 300
notes on fire
and stamped the cinders
on the ground
and “THERE!”
he shouted
“THERE!”
she laughed wafting the
remains in his face
“yeah yours is ash,
mine still smells
like money”
and they fell to it
right there
on the floor like eels
They were arguing
over the day’s takings
he says
he took more than she
she that hers were greater
he’d miscounted
furious she took her wad
and ripped it
clean in half and
threw it in his face
furious he took his lighter
and set his 300
notes on fire
and stamped the cinders
on the ground
and “THERE!”
he shouted
“THERE!”
she laughed wafting the
remains in his face
“yeah yours is ash,
mine still smells
like money”
and they fell to it
right there
on the floor like eels
Thursday, March 6, 2014
soaked in bore hole
by Dave Migman
trailing silk through bars
of strangers
the force that drives
clustered eyes
like barnacles grip the
lunatic rock
I read your email 3000 miles away
squinting between lines of bad English
while clouds windmill the dry grass
the tourists that flock the Bears Head
are oblivious - the face in the glass
moon shocked eyes and nervous smiles
butterfly hands around amber
trailing silk through bars
of strangers
the force that drives
clustered eyes
like barnacles grip the
lunatic rock
I read your email 3000 miles away
squinting between lines of bad English
while clouds windmill the dry grass
the tourists that flock the Bears Head
are oblivious - the face in the glass
moon shocked eyes and nervous smiles
butterfly hands around amber
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