the biggest ride of the summer

take the train to lockerbie
soaked twice on the heatwave day
learn it
then you’ve earned it
always pack a gilet
sun cream
gets in your eyes
as the king meant to say
through coalburn a wheel-sucker
and deadwater and succour
climb abandonist
when i felt the thirst
as a stab in the kidneys
a painful business
don’t have a cow
abunga dude
bloody lookin’ rose
is looking good
lily pads
and other wet plants
then keith goes to a barbecue
and we just ride home in the rain
how come we don’t get burgers

the final chorus of the gilet years, which only lasted six months

that’s our lot
for the gilet years
a window of calm
between crises
it’s the unseemly quiet
amidst the tempest
when the storm is over
what will be left?

alternative ending and final chorus, making the previous final chorus the penultimate one all along

those were the gilet years
congratulations
if you’re still here
this is the end
until more similar tomorrow

and that’s it for part three. i hope you enjoyed giletdonism. please come back next month for part 4: techno-determinism.

the last antipasti v

i remember
when i was young sprout
thinking that if i was the first human
it would never have occurred to me
to eat food
or make love
that was an absurd thought
for a cruciferous vegetable, i know
but come on and eat me,
end this limbo
let me go
my whole life
flashes before my florets
i’m sliding off the plate
into the wastebasket
into the bin
a cardinal sin
and you know
i don’t see any chips in here,
you philistines.
i am a prize!
how did this happen to me?
am i weird looking,
or weird being?
you reach the top
you’re hot
and then you’re not
just one shot
then you’re compost.
it’ll happen to you too
one day.
memento mori.
i regret nothing.

have i written about the reverse columbo before? in columbo, the detective series, detective columbo presents as a bit dim. like a c.i.d. rocky balboa. but then at the end, he would be half way out, and he’d raise his finger – just one more thing. and he would point out a little detail, immaterial probably, but it would be just enough to tell the suspect that he may as well have been caught red-handed.

the reverse columbo is when, at the end of a presentation or discussion, you ask a question that reveals that you haven’t understood anything. why did the statue of liberty on planet of the apes not depict an ape though? perhaps they revered humans.

the last antipasti ii

mind the time
you over-ordered carbohydrates
a panicked salad reprobate
arancini, croquettes and chips,
you had a need that i could sate
pumped with protein
and polyphenols
light and taut
and a little bit special

june is a good month. may, the month of invitation, is my favourite month. but june is the month of the yawning day. it is a very special time in northern latitudes. happy memories of walking home from being out nightclubbing and the sun is up already and i’ve not even been to bed. after work, i can go out riding my bike in the country side. and, as i write, it’s warm. there is sunbathing to be had. tan lines to be burned. brocolli to eat.

the last antipasti i

broccoli can’t be a prize,
everyone says,
or would say
if inquired of.
but my stem’s tender
as a lover’s thighs,
crunchy with salt,
drenched in rendered
fat, yum
pair me with focaccia
and dipstick me
in extra virgin
verging on
extravagant…
a celebrity
of humble bent

hello, welcome to june and the final stanza of part 3 of my epic poem, the love epochal, ‘giletdonism’. i know that pride comes before a fall, obviously, but i think this is the best month of poetry by any poet ever and you, dear reader, are very lucky to get to read it all. the month, obviously, starts with a five part series about a tender stem broccoli.

ecolalia iv and chorus 5

cross loss harvey gen
brung ecolalia home
from work again
a day of laundry,
chores.
scrub scrub
this our funereality,
a jumped up
anxious principality
scrub harder
peasant
yes, m’lord
much and many
scrubbings, sire

memento mori
never hits as hard
as a diagnosis
forever strong and stable,
and taking it on our noses

there’s the road ahead
and the music in my ears
a dream in my head
called the gilet years
it’s the beep of the derailleur
greeting the last cog
march on, forward, onwards,
towards our epilogue

ecolalia is the neurodivergent pleasure in repetition of phrases. this is where a lot of my poetry comes from. i was back from holiday. doing my chores. before some work travel. i had such a busy summer of travel and may was insane. i started a new job and spent 15 nights of the month in various travel accommodation outside scotland. i was struggling to find the time for my art. but it was also quite exciting. trying a different life. spoiler: it’s going to be quite stressful for a while. double spoiler: but it seems to be fine now, a year on. i’ve worked out how to do it now. see you next month when there will be yet more poetry.

chorus 4 (the fourth chorus of the love epochal part 3: giletdonism)

see the month out
with a crow loop,
swelter on the juliet
manifest strength
and stability
unemployed and full e it

get tucked in for the gilet years
keep it strong and stable
despite hopes and fears
a pudding waits
at the end of the repast
let’s hope we get there
at last

i had quit my job! i hadn’t yet started my new job! i was sunbathing on the juliet balcony. life was good. see you next month when, you’ll never guess, the poem continues.

i was sleeping when the rascal slipped in on a bonnie mission / you give notice, it’s official, the last issue / i’m doing my homework so you can take me with you

my lover got offered a new job. this triggered many feelings, positive and negative. of course i was happy for her. but worried about the change in our lives. some jealousy too. it spurred me on a bit. i had been looking for a new position myself for a while, but i kept missing out at the final interview stage. and i was looking forward to another interview a few days hence. another disappointment it would turn out. in retrospect, i just wasn’t ready to move on. the mid life crisis was necessary and incomplete.