Our Old House In The Suburbs - Poem by Neil Solan
We lived in a demented house;
We were long-term sufferers of the tangible crimes
But we had lots of laughs along the way.
We grew whatdoyacallems in the back yard
And the dining area was stacked to the rafters
With bolognese stains and fanciful cakes.
There was an elongated smile
Printed on the innermost wall,
And a pause button strapped to my bedroom door.
We used this function to aid us
When we needed to catch up on our sleep
Or when we preffered not to work for a while.
Our neighbours were strange beings
And they often sat on the front lawn
Masticating pork pies and cornflakes without hesitation.
Once they even offered me
One of those dancing flowers that grooved
To any outside noises. Remember them?
Even the stars above our old house
Twinkled with more ferocity and enthusiasm
Than the ones above our current abode.
(It's not the knife that is the problem,
It's the food stuck on the knife) .
We had a paddling pool.
I remember the wallpaper in my old bedroom;
It had foliage sellotaped all over
And a citrus-y kind of scent to it,
I never was that happy again
Watching the tanks go by
From my woodland bedroom window.
I used to hide in my cupboard
For hours, waiting for my brother to approach
And I would leap out and scare him half to death.
I did this twice and he died fully,
And i do miss him sometimes.
Yes, we lived in a demented house.
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