The Scum Gentry Poetry Hole

Dispatched like a Turgid Stool

Dispatched like a Turgid Stool

Poetry
Peter O’Neill
Desperate pilgrims can seek out, and possibly
Find, comfort in the most unlikely places.
A sick or dying woman, or man, might
Find, possibly, a sign say in a public toilet.
.
For example, they might find harbour there
From the great hinterland of the altogether unfamiliar.
A tile, or a piece of porcelain,
Harvested in the mind in the place of a vigil.
.
The utterly demonic, these days, being most possibly
The utterly unknowable, rather ...
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For You I Died, my Lover

For You I Died, my Lover

Poetry
Natasha Helen Crudden
For you I died, my lover
For you
I tore sons from their fathers
Daughters from the womb
.
For you I fought
The only thing worth fighting for
.
Here I am
The fire in your veins
The spark in your ignition
When you are in discomfort
Inconvenienced
Under duress
.
There I stood
In rank with my comrades
Awaiting the day
You could live
For the sacrifice we made
.
For you I failed
...
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Mumblecore

Mumblecore

Poetry
Martin Appleby
I used to be super into
the movement
tracked down every movie
either on DVD
or pirated rips
whatever I could
get my hands on
I loved the DIY ethos
the rawness
the realness
I related to the characters
the slackers
the losers
the social awkwardness
the stunted dialogue
and those movies
and that style
the characters
and themes
have informed
a lot of my adult life
and the choices
that I have made
whether consciously
or ...
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just another old man with a ponytail and a beard in san francisco on a saturday night

just another old man with a ponytail and a beard in san francisco on a saturday night

Poetry
John Grochalski
they come into vesuvio’s cafe
right after my wife and i order our second beer
.
otherwise we would’ve left
.
there are twelve of them
cramped around a table meant for six
.
they look like a fucked up last supper
.
or the type of shallow trolls
who have to go out drinking
with their dozen closest friends
.
it’s saturday night in america
and i’m not made for saturday night anymore
.
but i’m ...
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Official Radio One

Official Radio One

Poetry
Kevin Higgins
That time of the week
when bachelor farmers decide,
on balance, not to string themselves
up in the outhouse, bravely
switch on the wireless instead;
.
on Official Radio Marion the defunct
feminist-to-a-moderate-extent
has a few old pals around
for two thrilling hours
of cream tea and general
consensus. Last month
one critic unfairly hissed
.
that the show increasingly sounds
like the occupants of a mortuary
in one of the more horrible parts
of Donnybrook, each ...
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The Crusty Old Man

The Crusty Old Man

Poetry
Name
hushed confessions
screamed into the
pillow each night
before you cry
yourself to sleep
.
no one wants to
become the crusty
old man
.
it’s much more
romantic to die
young, full of
promise and
potential
.
but on the other
side of those
myths are
nothing
.
a vast crease
of time built
on nothing ...
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