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ants moths and picaso
little ones
you have come to visit
you love to be near man
and
nest beneith warm concreat
cracked paths are your favorite
you
also walk up the sides of trees
your tiny feet stepping close to
the powdery wings of moths
you carry your dead friends
on your heads
and
once i saw five of you draging
a dead spyder
under a broken
paving slab to be eaten
by your hungry clan
it is said that on seeing dazzel-painted trucks
driving thru the streets of paris during the great war
picaso pointed and exclaimed
'we (the cubists) are responsble for that'
he didnt mention moths
or zebras at all
thats how we know that he was full of himself
poem 3
only poets piss in sinks
it is a cold seattle nite
- i cant be bothered to get out of bed
and go all the way to the toilet
i tell her
- its only out thru the kitchen
she tells me
- if im at home i just open the window
and piss into the back yard
she lifts her head from the pillow
and holds me with her dark eyes
- really? she says
my ex-boyfriend would never
do a thing like that
- no? i ask
- no he was very fastidious
and would never piss out of a window
- i dont allways piss out of windows
i correct her
- sometimes i piss in the sink instead
she looks at me
- well he certanly wouldnt do that either
she says
- why not?
i ask
- he just wasnt raised that way
she says levelly
- well nor was i
- then why do you do it?
i think for a second
- becouse im a poet!
i ansewer
then laugh into the pillow
www.billychildish.com
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-
- poem 2
i am the strange hero of hunger
my girlfreind lives
on the otherside of the world
and
has
started
reading
crime and punishment
by fydor dostoyevski
- do you recognise the main charicter?
i ask her excitedly
- dosnt he remind you of me?
- ive only just begun
she ansewers
whats his name?
- rodya
but all the charicters
have about 3 diffrent names
i always get confussed
and
cant tell who is who
becouse im dislexic and dont make sounds for the names
but rodya is for short
and
his sister is called dunya
isnt dunya a butiful name?
if little huddie had been born a girl
we would of named her
dunya
when i talk of the buti
of girls names
or the strange bravery
of artists
or see
the lite change
over sea
and sky
every second impossable showers of
gold
turning to terrible hues of purple
and
black
and
my
hart rate quickens
becouse
i am amongst
my
own
people
i am
the hero of all my favorite novels
i live in them
and they
live in me
i am arturo bandini
on angels flight
swearing at a butiful dark haired girl
in tattered shoes
i am rodya
guilty of a terrible and senceless murder
on the streets of st petersburg
i am the strange hero of hunger
starving to spite myself in chrsitiana am johan nagel
tormentor of the midget
and suiside
i am ishmail
knocker off of tall hats
i am every novelist
and
every charicter ever dreamed
i am everyone of my favorite artists
and
i feel myself not one jot less
but equell to all of them
turner
munch
holbine
and
hokusi
naturally i have no heros
i am my heros
i am my brothers
and sisters
i feel myself joined by the soul
with all buti
my hart sings with every brave endevor
with the strange wings of impossable butterflys
with every rock that breaths life into the world
i stand shoulder to shoulder with
all denoucers of meaness
i honour spirit and faith
and i uphold the glorious amiture
i am in love with desperate men
with desperate hands
walking in 2nd hand shoes
serching for god
and
hearing god
and hating god
i am a desperate man buckled with fear
i am a desperate man who demands to be listend to
who demands to connect
i am a desperate man who denouces the dullness of
money
and status
i am a desperate man will not bow down to acolayed or
success
i am a desperate man who loves the simplisity of
painting
and hates gallarys and white walls and the dealers in
art
who loves unreasonableness
and hot headedness
who loves contradiction
hates publishing houses
and
also i am vincent van gough
hiroshige
and every living breathing artist
who dares to draw god
on this planet
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chatham town welcomes desperate men
welcome the nite whatchman
the floor polisher
the dole-que boy
and
the policeman in the rain
welcome the salesman who never sells
the dentist who hates teeth
the docker with out a dock
and
the robber of car hub-caps
welcome lovers who can not love
lickers of bright green ice lollies
motherless children
and
the smashers of car wing mirrors
welcome achne
toothache
kabab shop owners
used-car salesmen
and
the buyers of second hand fridges
welcome the salor from a far away land
and try not to punch him on the nose
welcome larger drinkers
with tattoed fists
and the bare nuckle fighters of
kent
irland
romany
and
beyond
welcome teachers to sceared to teach
office werkers
wild 3 legged dogs
and
the smiling of hell
welcome garage attendents
shelf stackers
shelf haters
heroin users
and
girls in white calf length boots
welcome the men of middle managment
their bored housewifes
and
alcoholic children in private schools
welcome till girls with love-bites
welcome gray skys and icy winds
welcome magpies and crows
welcome con-men and the conned
and
children with flick-knives
welcome town planners
councilers of little faith
and
old ladies in faded blue coats
welcome estate agents bearing
false gifts
welcome liers
cheats
and
fornicators
welcome poets smiling thru their teeth
welcome dead novelists and
sunken battle-ships
welcome men in blazzers from napal
from the tax office of limehouse reach
to the dole que of the brook
chatham town welcomes desperate men
it loves you all
and
honeres you all
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