#poem #poetry #amwriting internationale


when I was young - well I'm still young -
but what's in a name -
a rose would smell as sweet
and wash twice as a often -
but when I was young in years
I was quite the iconoclast -
I'd take my hammer and chisel
to michaelangelo's david
if I thought his penis was bigger than mine -

I was always smashing things up
and having opinions -
most of which were bollocks - smaller than mine -
I'd never been to rome - except on a postcard -
or sailed down the niger river
or listened to whatever long faded band
supposedly defined us - in that moment -
                  when it seemed so important

but then when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up
I always said train driver -
and there hasn't been steam engines for years

it's twiddling the knobs you see -
letting of steam -
whetting your whistle -
and being chuffed with your shiny boiler
as you soot up the towns
and dirty the faces of the workers
for whom you supposedly have opinions
                                 when you are young

The Blue Book

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