10/18/2017 Poetry by SM JenkinThe Buddha of Wetherspoons The golden boy of Rochester, frequently seen preaching to the converted in the Cathedral's shadow. Our very own saviour floats serenely above the sea of cigarette butts bobbing in half-empty pint glasses. Brilliantly blue eyes and reddish-blonde hair spurn the light, leave an eerie after-image I blame on dim lighting. Nobody will poach the golden lion - untouchable above our cloud of stale beer and hot air, too busy putting the world to rights to your adoring bunch of tailors dummies You are the lotus flower in our mud. Down in the two Brewers, some heathens whisper about your pinstriped suit swiped from Marks & Sparks. But your eloquence grows over pints of cider, with ice; there are times when I almost believe you. Outside, normal life drops to a crawl, a whisper of fumes and blocked exhausts. Free your chakras; we’ve got to break the system from within. Give me liberty or give me death. Burn the zoos to the ground; let the animals die if they can’t be free. They’re better off, you know it. Don’t you? Go back to your cocoon darling But let me buy you another round my lovely lotus blue, while you entertain the troops, foot soldiers in your war. You’re saving the world one soul at a time; our Buddha of Wetherspoons. Chicken feed To be well adjusted to the world is like twisting the neck of a chicken, and calling yourself an Osteopath. Bertram's sun will not now rise for you - and the world twists and sinks and brings you with it into shadow. To be well adjusted to the world is to be an apology on the tip of the beak of that chicken. The dumb seeds scattered on the dirt will not now rise for you - and the world twists and sinks and brings you with it into shadow. To be well adjusted to the world is to have your neck snapped like that chicken, wondering why it hangs at an odd angle, until your wings are out of sight, they will not now rise for you - and the world twists and sinks and brings you with it into shadow. To be well adjusted too, the world twists and sinks and follows you into the shadow. ![]() Bio: SM Jenkin is a second-generation Irish writer, a lover of science fiction with itchy feet and one of the editorial advisors for Confluence magazine. SM is a regular performer on the Kent Live lit scene and has had work published in literary anthologies and magazines including: Boyne Berries, The Mermaid, City Without a Head, the Medway Festival Fringe, All Sorts and Unexplored Territory. @sajenks42 https://www.facebook.com/SMJenkinWriter
BFH
10/18/2017 02:12:49 pm
Making the ugly beautiful is an art in evidence here. Comments are closed.
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