Rotarians

I am not that someone
who revels in hate

Her look at the bar
left me cold-eye weighed

Poor Phil-the-farmer
could not match my smile

as Val took her drink
leaving her stare to scythe

Those Witches of Newick
have stirred their dark brew –

they sweat its rank scent –
a mephitic perfume

I settled with my pint
in the turned barrel seat –

my lonely remove
was my greeting defeat


Beer Mat

What you readin?

A repine novel
This is my bar work
as larynx~stretched
guffaws
& shrieked screams
tie up eye~readied lines
Dont mix booze
& dry books
Youll re~read
one typeset line
far too many times
tween knocks of beer
& lifted rounds
of re~filled tumblers
& mispronounced
bloody foreign wines
Shot~sworn drunks
& their pissed~up lovers
make stabs for clarity
Itll never be possible
to take hold of
any one paragraph
for long enough
without that jolt
off slammed drinks
& loud slaps
of theatrical hands
on bared thighs

Put yer book down ~ Mike
it’s time for a pint

Blonde-fucking-words

A too-bloody-loud blonde
stood gin-fucked at the bar –

stretching and over-pitching
her filthy lung-and-gut cackle

It was high-and-wide enough
to threaten every nervy glass

as she – blindly drunk – upset
those low murmurs of diners

who slyly turned to witness
her public orgasmic judders

She split atoms and chatter
and spilt wine across matting

as punters’ mouths dropped
with her heavy-footed acts

and re-enactments of others’
disgraced and shamed ways

Hampstead Heath

We scurried across NW3
but not the low-laid Heath
of bricked-ish village-ness
of idealised introversion –
with loquacious City views

No – We took the buff support
of metre-high teak bars
before the flow of beer taps –
erect like those glass towers
stood in that visible rotten mile

We ripped at the greenery
of London’s low-rooted life
Scarred and weeping skin
from middle-class weekends of
pottering was not ours to wash off

This city is a rubbed scab
which if picked will bleed
from its red core and then fester
until a dry canker kills it off –
Once for all – as the Bible says

We slept with different women
of various sizes and weights
and woke to awkward breaths
and memory loss – some things
are best left on Hampstead Heath