TRIPTYCH

for Keston Sutherland

A TSARINA'S OLD EMETIC

All my glib esplanades ending somewhere
like faecal, vaguely rotund mice, the hive
broaches new wastes, sharply cracked, the lino
curls into cuirasses. Yesterday's vent
was muddy, the matress soaked and eddies
spoiled the chicken nuggets. Makings somewhat
contrite as the benefits kept falling,
skedaddling where the shag pot keeps the squad
in fine feckle. Dint he get a cob on
abou it all. He were right fuckin pissed.
Mewling, farting, the walls drip-fed gangstas,
skunk-party, dreamboat. Love's an uvver twat
n all. Sfumato conical head piles 
gleaming. Chat and gleaming, the boats are pale
sculling, all yer gripin fer a few quid.
Like polsive solder the lavished crops groan
scabs and loose pickings in the camber's Irk
water, eddies and curls, little fiscal 
miasmas of old tank retribution. 
Outer vestibule, out of yer tree house
polished encomium of the blood arch.
Crackelure of ridge tiles. Sheet metal work.
Articulated palimpsest of gun 
piss, art fuck, shrimp paste, tuna chunks and soup.
An overcoated master of neuter 
lamp-lighter, shriek bobbins. The vatic lung
often resembles plastic fortresses,
tar bubbles, lederhosen, ox-bloods, spit.
Kinky bastards with eggs for eyes and cocks
like otters. There's leaning, contretemps, soil
packets for gullible fish and sofas
slinky with pollen of some lactic tsar.

ON THE RENTED SOFA

A matted, spunk-stained effort, mute coaxing
in on pneumatic, local for needle, bless
squiggle it, say, lay back for blow job. 
Doormat-coloured, legible hirsute, gold 
dead cat, left three weeks on the tarmac in
push of thorns'll steel you leave your thighs gashed,
Bruce Lee movie sink for rent of cane puck.
But dolorous old mind of limping saga system,
drugs disbanded, distance of box Helgas
those nights, lie ins, Alberich moaning, greed 
leaving your eyes rinsed with sand, mouth a bin. 
Abrasive, musty, fag burns on the arms, 
black pads of gum in smiling void for calm
as Leopold shuns venal pox for salt
crinkle cuts. Phase of blue in fuck pink foil
for eclectic shafting lets ginnels in,
vigour chats back on vinyl, but only
Luke blabs on foetal slabs for anthracite.
Coiled lime internal memoirs, tepid where
DJ Lung veal and copious banners
sings Leopold for climactic sham ream.
All their sad leaning, hills of arms puckered
small shed tribe in shunting. Totally shite.
In the scrub fat banned tub wallop he took
it all, all knackered as fun lump slacks off
and quiescent orb shilly-shallies for 
bone dump of torpid drain cleaner. Knock off
for some crappy hole, sheath for gammon tomb
blokish in one sense and farting about.
The one onion plucked and gilded there
traipsing about for a mud clock in what
was once the Emporium or the slug.


MILLTOWN OF SOME DESCENT

Hoofing timpani, little wings, anthrax,
peremptory glance, old girth and lever 
for wank-pocket, pinioned on chair lament.
Brisk infernal canyon of dishes, cold
in the caulking shed, vie with brass shuttle.
Trite engine bruise of gubbins in the fall,
the shack proof dribble of the gannet, erst
ovver stuff in the fuckin chimley. Lig
at yourself. They gonna urt theirself ere.
King of the blackfoot tribe. Little moor holes.
Uptight virgin snowdrift, calumny of 
slick and salt. Long slow salt of belly flop.
Shade & corpuscle & shawl & clogs &
bog off some ned. Spud's gorra dir'y knob.
The bogs're clean bu the twat's gonnan shat
on the floor. Sweet tulle of mica. Shabby
cloakroom. Mangy tram tussle old blessing
the tip's gulls're shite-faced on Skol.
Brood host tango in the food chain
shapely marrow though fender clique although
topiary gloom for sharp nicety 
in global fist packet. Nineties puggle
where slop-face Lancashire crisp doyen shields
plenty of verdant Apostles, and whines
in slurry of felt hosannas. Yellow
Irwell in canal boon, regal shafting
loyalist cumquats in the fizzle of choir
and packing for the motherfuckin twat
who went down on you. Immediate blood
and peevish glans in withering verdure,
lamping in the glue guild, young lemon Tsar
of prolapse, vocal as blue funnels bloat.



-- 
All the best,

Chris

=======================================================================
Christopher Emery
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Square/1664/


%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%