Hole



  Hole

  Collected poems 1970 to 2004

  Peter Barns

  Copyright 2011 Peter Barns

  These poems are a work of fiction. The names, characters and events portrayed are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  CONTENT

  Hole

  Love

  Lifeless Hair

  Little Lacey

  Thirty One

  Distorted Echoes

  Tiger - Tiger

  A Peculiar Man

  Pot Luck

  Pretty Little Thing

  Answer

  It's Wet Out Again

  Golden Birth

  Sagging Seats

  Super Babe

  Uncle Bert's Last Tune

  Deathless Caress

  The Day the Hoover Bit Back

  Rats In The Haystack

  Little Mo And Gran Go Shopping

  Some Thoughts And Feelings On The View South From Nigg Over The Firth Looking Towards Invergordon With The Mountains As A Backdrop - On A Sunny Day Last Summer.

  Matriarch

  Throw Another Bone On The Pile

  Fly Me

  Childhood's Playmate

  New Stone

  Silence

  Sex - What Sex?

  About The Author

  HOLE

  A hole is nowt,

  So what's about,

  And then a shout,

  "Oy mate, look out!

  Too late John,

  Poor bleeders gone."

  - a comment on building sites -

  back to top

  LOVE

  Touch me lightly

  For the pain I feel now

  Is the pain of love

  - those first few seconds of falling in love -

  back to top

  LIFELESS HAIR

  She split her eyes at ten am,

  Shrugged her body out of bed,

  Scuffed across the cold, cold floor,

  Stood at the sink and nailed her head.

  The coils hung down - limp and dank,

  She knew it needed washing now,

  She popped her tongue and told herself,

  She wouldn't do it anyhow.

  The coils slid round her dirty throat,

  And as she choked upon the floor,

  She wished she hadn't left it now,

  Should have washed it long before.

  - sylvia’s hair -

  back to top

  LITTLE LACEY

  Little Lacey Tickle tumbles,

  Falling down gives a laugh,

  Scooping suds upon her head,

  Smiles at mum while in the bath.

  - a friend’s first child -

  back to top

  THIRTY ONE

  There was a house, cor what a dive,

  And a neighbour shouted, "Man alive!

  What is this noise, this deep, deep beat,

  That roars out over Dodson Street?"

  His friend shouts back, "Don't worry son,

  It's all those bums in thirty-one."

  - my flat in waterloo, london -

  back to top

  DISTORTED ECHOES

  Last week I bought a pig called Peter,

  a present for my wife, but she didn't want it.

  Last week Peter bought a pig for a present

  but my wife, she didn't want it.

  Peter bought she, a present for my pig

  but last week I didn't want my wife.

  Peter bought the wife a she pig

  and last week it was a present.

  Then the pig ate my wife.

  Now there's a fucking present!

  - drunk & disorderly -

  back to top

  TIGER - TIGER

  The tiger's coming darling,

  Cast your hearing over there,

  See the sights - the black-gold stripes,

  The eyes that seem to stare and stare.

  See the way it smells you darling,

  Look, the grass is moving there,

  Smell the musk - the cat like odour,

  See the claws that tear and tear.

  Feel the way it wants you darling,

  As it pulls you limb from limb,

  You'll not wander anymore,

  Now that you are inside him.

  - that’ll stop her fooling around -

  back to top

  A PECULIAR MAN

  I like to walk in the woods at night

  And sit by myself in the dark

  I like to argue all the time

  And stand on my head in the park

  I like to dress in clothes so gay

  And laugh and sing when I can

  I like to do these things and more

  'Cos I'm a peculiar man

  - well that’s what all my mates say -

  back to top

  POT LUCK

  Me brother John sniffed glue like

  Yeah, glue and gas and stuff

  Trouble was 'e didn't know

  When 'e'd 'ad enough.

  Not me, I got more sense like

  Don't want me nose to rot

  Snotting lumps of Evo-Stic

  Yeah, fink I'll stick to pot.

  'Cause pot don't do yer 'ead like

  That's what me mates all say

  If only John 'ad smoked it

  'E'd still be 'ere today.

  - good ol’ flower-power -

  back to top

  PRETTY LITTLE THING

  She was a pretty little thing

  Some said a genius

  Who could talk to many nations

  But I didn't trust her

  For come upon her quietly

  And you could hear her whisper

  "Come quick, come quick, come quick."

  She was a pretty little thing

  Some said a mystic

  Who could talk to long dead people

  But I didn't trust her

  For come upon her quietly

  And you could hear her whisper

  "This world, this world, this world."

  She was a pretty little thing

  Some said a Healer

  Who could touch a person healthy

  But I didn't trust her

  For come upon her quietly

  And you could hear her whisper

  "Kill them, kill them, kill them."

  - an idea for a short story -

  back to top

  ANSWER

  I wanted to see everything

  I wanted to understand all

  I wanted to be everywhere

  So I built a cage

  A large cage

  A glass cage

  And in the cage I sat

  And as I sat I pondered

  And the conclusion was this

  If I am to see everything, I must be everywhere

  So I built a nest

  A large nest

  A glass nest

  And I slept within the nest

  And as I slept I was devoured

  Piece by piece

  Fed into the mandibles of knowledge

  And upon nine legs I walked

  To roam and see with a million eyes

  Viewing all in tiny parts

  Which added together equalled one

  And when my wanderings were done

  I found I had the answer

  - further education -

  back to top

  IT'S WET OUT AGAIN

  It's wet out again,

  and your tears run down

  the windowpane.

  Touching them brings you back.

  Damp patches on my fingertips,

  cool receptacle of our love.

  Y
our tears are salty

  as I savour their memory.

  Salty, soft and tentative.

  This one, our wedding day;

  your face is reflected in its shape,

  framing your beauty from within.

  Here, our child's first hurt.

  You cried with her. I,

  not being there, cried later.

  The harsh taste of your mother's death;

  as she gave up her struggle

  and left you behind.

  All things wiped away now

  With the edge of a curtain.

  - my first divorce -

  back to top

  GOLDEN BIRTH

  My incubation took aeons

  for buried deep I was.

  Deep in the desert sands.

  Hidden away from sight in a hot, grainy bed.

  And as I grew I dreamt.

  Dreamt of a life when I would be free.

  For three thousand centuries I grew,

  flexing half-formed muscles within my shell

  while above me the world turned.

  Over the years life crawled,

  ebbing and flowing across my land.

  Many confusing thoughts carried to me,

  hateful thoughts, primitive thoughts.

  Urgings and longings that called me up,

  straining for the sky,

  so the sun might warm my golden skin.

  My time is now, I feel it.

  I am.

  - a rather peculiar dream -

  back to top

  SAGGING SEATS

  Piled high in twisted surrealism,

  gaping doors rusted and broken,

  gutless machines brood;

  broken dreams on buckled wheels.

  The slow drip of oil,

  as a split axle cries,

  makes echoes of pain.

  And all the while, the bloody dashboard

  and broken glass

  makes echoes of life.

  Wind slammed doors move gently,

  whispering stories on their sighing hinges.

  Small pieces of scalp

  flutter lifelike on the breeze.

  What dreams were carried on these sagging seats

  now spilling foam from gaping smiles?

  What dreams that called with such urgency

  none could wait to embrace them?

  - scrap-yard of dreams -

  back to top

  SUPER BABE

  More dangerous than a speeding bullet.

  Smellier than an unwashed tramp.

  Able to disrupt life with a single smile.

  Is it a dog?

  Is it a cat?

  Is it even a good idea?

  No - it's superbabe!

  Its five year mission - to boldly mess

  where no babe has messed before.

  More troublesome than a Poll Tax Form.

  More noisier than a Lada car.

  Able to redistribute food with a single puke.

  Is it lovable?

  Is it laughable?

  Is it even worth it?

  Of course it is - it's superbabe!

  - that 4am