POETRY: KNIFE, AXE, SWORD, SPEAR (BUT I’M STILL UNDER DRESSED) BY PAUL TRISTRAM

Some nights The City is as soothing

and as playfully friendly as a lover,

sometimes as cold and indifferent as an Ex.

Other times it’s a barbaric battleground,

where the women in mini skirts and high heels

are merely in disguise, they are really Vikings

on the rampage and you are the only thing

standing in the way of them entering Valhalla.

Every pub is full of Football Hooligans

and never from the Team that you like to watch.

The Police are mob-handed and only waiting

upon eye contact to throw the entire weight

of your Country’s Laws down upon you.

Even the Subway Beggar’s are aggressive,

with broken Port bottles in their dirty hands

and insults streaming out of their tortured mouths.

It’s times like these that you need an escape plan,

time to head back to your local watering hole,

you’ll ‘read all about it’ in tomorrow’s papers

and be glad that you detoured back to wisdom

and ‘learnt the hard way’ common sense.

Written by Paul Tristram