Kaptain's Blog

the trench was deep
but there was a ladder
he clambered roughly two thirds of the way up
tiring as he went

then with each step he trod
it seemed as though
another rung was added to the top
while the ladder sank further
into the mud below

high above
a bird fluttered left to right
west to east
o, for wings!

he slid down and sat, cross-legged
on the damp, uncomfortable earth
his mind oscillating
between hope and despair

we served him at our table,
the old guy from Bihar who cut our hedges.
he savoured every morsel as if it might be his last.
and with every mouthful savoured i felt sadder.
why was it that the world was so cruel
and full of greed and anguish?
we sent him on his way with a bag of goodies
and he left with a smile
to cut more hedges

The roads are shining, blinding white.
But there are two ways
Tell me my man, which one is right?

(by Aldo Austin, aged 10)

he laid next to his wife
and draped a leg over her
he touched her hair
smelled its perfume on his fingers
drew in breath
and smiled, inside

from outside, quite close
came the sound of gunfire

he clutched her as tightly as he could
with all the strength he had

the point of no return
became the point from where he returned,
because he refused it

he had been driven there
by forces, unnatural and dark

there was cacophony everywhere
and pain

but when he looked about
he saw also there was love
which, after all, filled his own heart

he no longer minded
those unreturned looks
that laughed
and marked him down a fool

and he grew strong again

the rope caught his face as it fell,
which he thought cruel

he grabbed at it but
it was slippery and his grip was weak

he was tired, cold and wet, after all

somehow he managed
to coil it around his waist
and did nothing more –
he was unable, even, to wait

and then the light appeared
and he could hear cheers
as the rescuers, good people
hauled him up
and out of the well

imagine if your name was “Pig”
and you chose it
Pig is a word
now it’s your name
you chose it
it was by design
i have friends
and/or acquaintances
called
Tree
Circle
Milk
too

five fingers
five true loves
five people you meet along the way who are five true friends
five senses
five milligrams of heroin
five lines above

YOU FUCKING CUNT I’M GOING TO PRICK OUT YOUR EYES WITH THE BLUNT END OF A CHAIRLEG

SLOWLY

why was i born
why was i born
see, if i was going to be born
and someone told me before
i would’ve chosen to be
a pig
i could’ve nosed around
in my own excrement
and that of others
there’d be no mirrors
(that i could see, anyway)
and quite unknowingly
i’d have been happy
and gone about my business
without pretending
i was something else