A Nasty Story
Reaching out for the frozen liberty of toast,
He felt no hunger linger in his belly,
Several days had passed since he made his boast
After seeing his girlfriend dancing on the telly.
He longed to kiss her rowanberry lips
(Bereft of reason and the truth of ships)
But now he realized it was too late,
His iron principles dissolving into jelly.
He'd always wanted to impress the girl
And make her think that he was cool as f**k _
He fantasized - his mind was in a whirl -
But however hard he'd tried he'd had no luck.
One day he grabbed her by the arm
And said 'You're driving me quite mad! '
So she replied, not thinking any harm,
'Let's go back home and we can go to bed.'
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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An Ordinary Middle-Class Wife (or, The Little Woman Is Always Wrong!)
You were just an ordinary middle-class wife,
Why did you have to take your life
And cause me such embarassment?
It wasn't meant
To be like this. I can see it in their eyes -
The neighbours all despise
Me now -
You broke the marriage vow
'In sickness and in health',
I didn't have a clue
That you were going to do
This! It came as quite a shock
And now they mock
Me in their different ways,
I can't avoid their gaze,
You've landed me in the sh*t!
WHY did you do it?
I was always a decent bloke
But you've made my life a bloody joke!
I never let you down
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Happy Ending
After all the fun we had
Imagine my surprise
When I met you again
To discover that look of hatred in your eyes!
Someone must have been telling lies
About me, left, right, and centre
To make you hate me so.
Now all you do is criticize
And find fault with me.
I did my best -
I thought that all of us were friends -
How could I have guessed
You were the viper in the nest?
I don't know what to do,
I guess it all depends
If I can make up to you
And we can make amends.
Why throw away
Something that could have been so good?
You say 'Okay, '
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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In Defiance of Death
When I think of my increasing age
I'm filled with a surge of impotent rage,
How dare the gods who rule the earth
Think so little of men and what their lives are worth? !
I could cheat my fate, I could take my own life,
I could end it all with the blade of a knife,
Sometimes I think It would be better that way
And I don't give a damn what the priests may say!
The gradual erosion of body and soul
Has put my character on parole,
Do I have the courage to last it out?
Will I die with a whimper or a defiant shout?
Death takes from me the stars and flowers
And all my sweet sentimental hours!
No-one ever thinks it will come to this
Without the comfort of their mother's kiss! !
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Bird of Ill Omen
I wandered lonely in the crowd,
Bereft of rhyme or reason,
A jackdaw whispered in my ear
'You will be hung for Treason! '
I ate a meal of nine inch nails
To satisfy my hunger,
It's a recipe that never fails,
Learnt from an ironmonger;
And then I drank some creosote
To quench my raging thirst -
Some people die when they drink that
So I wouldn't be the first!
And still the jackdaw followed me
And spoke about my death,
I shuddered at his prophecy,
Becoming short of breath.
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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My Universe
When I spend some time with other folk
They think that I'm a friendly bloke
Who listens carefully, cracks a joke
Now and then, and often smiles,
They've no idea I'm nowhere near,
That my thoughts are far away with you,
They havent got the faintest clue
You're all I care about!
I'd like to climb a mountain-top
And shout how much I love you,
Let the whole world know
No-one compares, the prettiest of them all
Just holds a candle to your sun,
You are the ONLY ONE
I'll ever care about,
You needn't douby my word, it's true,
All I ever want is you,
Light of my life, much brighter than the sun
And more romantic than the moon,
If only I could lose myself in you
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Ballad of Aberdeen (Mild Green Vipers)
The mild green vipers of Aberdeen
Are often heard but seldom seen.
They hiss like a kettle when it boils
And crush small rodents in their coils,
They slither through the summer grasses
Invisible to whoever passes,
Few mortal folk have ever seen
The mild green vipers of Aberdeen,
But many hear their wicked hiss
And shake in terror because of this.
You'll never guess where they have been
Unless you ask the Scottish Queen.
She'll smile and tell you very slowly
In the name of all that is Pure and Holy
That nothing lives that's so obscene
As the mild green vipers of Aberdeen.
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Not AnotherLove Poem! !
Please take me with a pinch of salt
And understand my foolish ways,
I may be mad but it's not my fault,
This is more than just a schoolboy craze!
Do I love you more than a pint of beer?
Or even a tender, juicy steak?
The fools insinuate I'm queer,
Hell's Teeth, they've made a big mistake!
As a matter of fact I love you more
Than the whole great heaving universe,
I'm just a loser and I'm poor,
And I write some pretty silly verse.
Some people think that I'm a perve
Or simply that I'm old and fat,
So how on earth do I have the nerve
To chat you up? Can you tell me that?
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Poem For A Friend Dying of Cancer
I forgive you, Lord, for all your cruelty
And the way you really had it in for me,
The way you let them break my heart,
The way they tore my happiness apart.
I forgive you, Lord, but I don't see why
I should honour you because you chose to die,
I hate the way you've crucified my friends
Proclaiming that your Great Love nrver ends!
I forgive you, Lord, for all the suffering
That you allowed, and how you didn't bring
Relief for friends who lay there in their pain,
I forgive you, Lord, perhaps you are insane!
I forgive you, Lord, you really make me sick,
Your clever words are just a cunning trick,
Why don't you save my friend who's going to die,
She's only 31, and you won't tell me why.
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poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A Confession (a sexual prose-poem)
He spent the evening in a sort of sleazy trance, sucking the Cosmic Nipple of Unloveliness. Gradually his self-satisfied cogitations gave way to a sort of disquiet and dread as he dreamt of lifting the shabby skirt of a thirteen-year-old slut. Imagine his anguish and doubt as she turned out to be the animated corpse of his favourite childhood aunt. He gasped as he buried his face in her greying pubic hair and suffocated in the decaying stench of her genitalia. Outside in a different world it was a bright spring morning, with the blackbirds singing and daffodils nodding in the breeze. He would never again know such an innocent scene as this as his youthful spirit was tormented by the noisome degradation of a hellish lust. O God, have mercy on those of us who still walk in the everyday world of men, tortured by such Satanic dreams of corruption and putrefaction!
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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