How ridiculous
we have become,
equality is the corner
stone of true civilisation
and one that is under-threat
by the preposterous demands
of those who seek
to undermine it,
suing to be believed twenty
years younger,
just to be able to look
great in the eyes of women;
oh foolish creatures that we are,
all the battles we have endured,
all the insanity life can throw
upon our minds,
to be undone by the nonsensical
man in search of sex.
Handing my wife
a jumper I had worn
for a couple of days
to keep out the cold,
I asked
whether she thought
I could get one more night
out of it.
Bewildered, she first smiled
and then replied,
I don’t know about that,
but you might get it to
play the opening drum section
of In The Air Tonight…
Ian D. Hall 2018
.
..As you recount the image
of a thousand cinematic battles
and deep in water trench wait,
behind you
high above unknown gardens
rockets explode in the bold still sky,
the whizz bangs, whoops promoted
through the ranks
as other former angels die
with a bang, and dirty faces
from the powder that took their lives,
no time to scream, yell
out a warning, just a whispered
time’s up blink as they say good
bye to their mother, and all the while
behind first floor glass
Another zombie knocked on the door
in the early evening October
glow supplied
by moonlight and red rouged faces,
dipping into their mother’s
make-up bag
and the drool of fake blood
that gets wiped on the ghost’s
off-white bedroom sheet
because the taste of chocolate
isn’t as nice when your plastic Dracula
chops get in the way
of chewing and smiling stuffed face
dripping…
…expectation;
zombie, ghost and ghoulie,
growling wolf, a mistaken ballerina
swearing and threatening robbery
with violence, as only
He went hunting for squirrels
on a cold October day.
I remember my time
in Pittsburgh being one
in which I sat playing cards
till four in the morning,
the fine whisky
slowly adding to the occasion
of friendship, far removed
from the man with the gun
in his hand
and hate seeping out of his porous heart.
The incline railway overlooking
all of creation, the once former
Steeler’s ground lost
to history it seemed,
but below, stewing in his bile soup
It does not mean the end,
there is, after all,
more to life than
suddenly being quiet, reflect
on your thoughts if you must
but don’t let that full stop
dictate to you
the point of closer detail,
of thinking,
sweet consideration,
and then talk, shout, scream,
such vile words, such tempting
phrases and ponder a while
my friend, upon the point of
the end of the sentence,
don’t let a full stop
be the place where you
reside for the rest
So close
that I could drown
in The Tamar in the attempt
in trying to reach
a buried deep home…
Too close the brightness of the day
that started out by hanging
on my doorstep
as the four in the morning Blues
threatened to send my over
active mind
into the screaming landscape
of anxiety filled possession.
The cold of autumn
on the empty dance floor of Lime Street
is briefly ignited by the warm
good morning greeting to stony Ken,
It is the long day before,
the cruel winter of bare tree thought
has plagued me since
the start of September’s fallen
and I find my reasoning
has deserted me, the fear
of your constant rejection
moulding me into the man I am.
The soulless winter
in my life, you
couldn’t touch the spring in which
you rallied against,
you ignored me,
I found it was easier
to live without you
and I told you such
when my old Queen died.
Somehow, I managed
to take a picture
of horses snorting,
their hot breath turning into steam
as they charged down the field
and towards my camera lens,
the unblinking, the hot hoof beat
that I felt underneath,
locomotive driven, terrifying
and beautiful, an attack
on the front, be still, measured
I implored myself, hold the reins
of the camera tightly, snap
shot of a time
when I went racing with James.
Ian D. Hall 2018
I never thought
that I could ever be charged
with the crime
of being an Ol’ white man.
Despite having never once
seen myself as but
an ally, a willing supporter
and cheerleader of feminism,
an enthusiast of different cultures
and romantic scholar of other’s values
a devotee of equalism…
somehow,
I am just an Ol’ white dude
who cares nothing
for anything;
I wonder what my life was for
in such moments,
I stood for all,
now, none stand with me.