Four Poems
By Ford Dagenham.
A Little Bit of Delirium
Johnny! Twanging Beeping Johnny
where you bin, Johnny?
you bin in the breath before we die?
the breath when death announces its grey intentions?
and takes you into the hall,
you bin where all the dogs say Cock, Johnny?
and all you say is Boo?
you want to say God, Johnny?
like we used to
and its rare as meat outside, Johnny,
livid and smelling
an ECG sunset of mad painters red,
and the TV is on twice, Johnny
while I milk my epic crawl
across the endless enormous rug,
where you bin, Johnny?
when I was left to sleep on the kerbstone
a hero without missiles or headphones?
and Johnny, you found my sick on your Volvo roof
and in your Spanish guitar,
where you bin, Johnny?
you bin far?
Photograph of a Girl
found an old photograph.
it was ALIVE in my hands
and
I
could
not
look
at
it.
found it in the shoe box
where I had hidden it
alot
of
years
ago.
was from the White Noise
I had been deep inside.
it was from the
Wild
Disfunctional
Innoncence.
a fake innoncence, Youth,
the First Nightmare.
will be a Lizard harsh autumn.
I will burn like the trees and leaves.
she is Woman now,
with Children, Moisteuriser
and Routine.
I’ve a Bottle, an Atomiser,
and only Dreams.
I’ve memories I cant touch!
all locked away,
I’m turning them into Diamonds.
outside this photograph
(that SCREAMS in my hands)
I am shouting at the Sea.
I am running into the road.
I am Laughing.
always Laughing
or doing some other Cheap High.
this PHOTO
this NOW
is Alien but Home.
is like France I saw as a child.
(I try to face up to it
without license or beer
but I could only look at it
when SHE was looking at it
and I was drinking)
Onwee Jr. nineteen seventy biscuit
‘Nothing is interesting. Nothing.’
Charles Bukowski
outside the last semi
in a dead end road of Fords,
a boy is ALONE
out on the front lawn.
the august sun shines on him,
conifer surround him
in his last days on Earth,
the last days of the school holiday.
a bee is terrifying over the lavender.
he has toys out there,
blonde hair.
he has a secret tree to hide inside.
he is too young
for the ennui
he wears
like a baby blue T.
sunday afternoon, saturday afternoon,
the sunshine; KILLERS all…
lethal as a wet Wednesday
11am.
Biofuels
lot of talk
of them Biofuels
these days
I thought they meant DRINK
thats why it made sense
they could save the world
but apparently
them Biofuels
will
DECIMATE
the
Southern Hemisphere
in an effort to benefit the Northern one
just like the Gone Empire
with its gin
and
white pianos
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ford Dagenham lives alone just one mile from where he was born in the house his grandfather died in. He works as an underdog in the hospital up the hill he can see from his kitchen rife with mice. He was educated during the 80s teachers strikes in a school that burned down. He cannot drive.
First published in 3:AM Magazine: Monday, November 17th, 2008.
