Sunday, 3 May 2009

A long winded poem.



This has been going through my head for two weeks so I'm glad to finally get it out. :) Here we go.

Out On The Town

Saturday night
It's the Neanderthal parade
Unsteady, staggering men bawling loudly about football, sports cars and getting laid
Clinging to the arms of airheaded blondes
Wearing more perfume than clothing despite the cold breeze
That chill fetid wind carrying with it the stench of stale cider, drying vomit and the cacophony of ten different techno dance tracks all with the same bassline, blasting out from ten different night clubs all with 'trendy' glowing fascias guarded by bouncers who look like they just might if dropped from the right height
The inebriated rabble, seemingly oblivious to the waiting fluorescence of police vans and ambulances just biding their time for the inevitable hauling of comatose victims to a cell or a stretcher

I betcha've been there
Drunk your fair share
Woke up Sunday morning with puke in your hair
Just another mindless mammal doing the Saturday night shuffle drowning in a sea of poisonous bubbles
Just another turd in the puddle
It's not really poetic
It's pretty pathetic
But that won't prevent endless repeats like an episode of Friends
"The one where it ends"
Coming soon
To a liver near you

© Charon 2009
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2 comments:

  1. Anonymous4 May 2009 at 00:01

    Normally I would never dream of doing such a thing, but is there any chance, any chance at all of 'bleached' being put between 'airheaded' and 'blondes'? Absolutely nothing to do with rhythm or imagery, it's just a personal vendetta against stereotypes perpetuated by those dumb enough to actually WANT to be blonde :P

    Great work though, has that seedy street feel to it, creates a great picture!
    K

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  2. Charon4 May 2009 at 10:49

    Hooray, success. :P Seedy sums up well what I was aiming for.
    Hmm, airheaded bleached blondes. I'll think about it. :P True it's a stereotype, but I see enough of them to know it has plenty of truth in it. I saw one of these young mother types with her kid in the shop recently. The little lad held up a lime and asked "What's this mummy?" to which she replied "It's a lemon, now put it back."
    Other things I left out of it because they didn't quite fit the pace or rhythm are the false tribal tattoos these men wear and little pools of broken glass. :P
    I too am a victim of these stereotypes though, being shaven headed as I am. Sadly, most other men sharing my choice of haircut are little more than addle-brained thugs. ¬¬

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