Dedication Poeticus Poem by Alistair Plint

One For Him.


The wireless toots a concoction
of symphonic abortion, through
a four Ohm mid-range loudspeaker;
you sit there mining
through scraps of paper and board
remembering your phonetics
to tweak her

Bashfully dripping the last drop
of cheap scotch down your throat
in the hope it'll tidy the red pop
in your eyes, when it reminds you of
what you wanted to write yesterday
or last night or early morning

The haze of second hand cigarette smoke
is but an illusion of a burning mind
truth be told
it's hardly a poetic joke
All you needed was to walk the damn dog
there you would find
some lass, you could use
new words for;
prove you were a god.


One For Her.



Arched backs
beautiful feet
and perfect courage
delivered
like three blind mice
and
you'll be the butchers wife

Smash the roller out the ball
and inscribe your
torrent deep
in the denial of
who you are
The strength
of just one ego
truer than the rest

I wouldn't need to
tattoo my emotions
across the cover
of my book. But for you
just this once
in this psychopathic moment
I will[.]

I did repeatedly
write every fantasy
about you
your talent
and misgivings;
but I collared them

Unpublished!



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