Chris Hemingway
Poet, songwriter, two published pamphlets (‘paperfolders’, ‘party in the Diaryhouse’)
Chris Hemingway
Poet, songwriter, two published pamphlets (‘paperfolders’, ‘party in the Diaryhouse’)
Poet, songwriter, two published pamphlets (‘paperfolders’, ‘party in the Diaryhouse’)
Poet, songwriter, two published pamphlets (‘paperfolders’, ‘party in the Diaryhouse’)
It’s been this way since the Domesday Book. So convinced no one would need ever take an arrow in the eye again.
An arrow in the eye, there are other ways to blind, or to be blind. There’s an exhibition of driftwood washed up on the river.
Washed up on the river, choked to shallows by uncut reeds. They slashed the hospitals, knocked on the doors of the ill and workless
Ill and workless, fleeing borders. Dancing while we tried to keep our parent’s throats from burning. But he’s here to talk about pylons
Here to talk about pylons, cheeks blazing, not with shame, but misplaced sunscreen. And he realises too late about red coats and foxes;
Red coats and foxes don’t solve every problem The river is the centre of the valley. The river is always the centre of the valley. That’s how erosion works.
That’s how erosion works. Erosion of truth, trust and tolerance, so all that’s left are hollowed stumps. It’s no surprised we want you gone. And to be fair, I think you knew that.
In the end, I think you knew that In the end, the pylons didn’t make us angry anymore You had no concern That the river never turned from brown to blue And nor had your national shirts And neither had you.
It’s Firework Day, the town is eager Each year hoping Klauss will ignite the Volcano Fountain.
And once again, astonishing sparks and trails will fly across the square, and we will reach upwards, towards the fire lanterns.
No-one will mourn, the grief that engulfed us will dissolve And Klauss will climb down from the church tower As the bells in his head ring out once more
The fingers of suspicion finished pointing before the hands had started to applaud the knuckles bared like teeth that needed filling the nails hardly blunter than his sword
Her trust had not survived the last confession It left a taste that clung to every word And nothing he could do would stop the burning Though it was undersaid and overheard.
The trouble with suspicion is it lingers Hangs around the house in empty days Sticks to windows even when they’re open Sticks in throats distorting every phrase
I was 60 I wanted to do something new To get a significant gift
And it looks terrific Something to sit in front of in the evening Quiet steady practices
As if
Where would that time come from? Borrowed from unlearnt languages Fetched from must-read shelves Bought from quick contracts
But I’ve got a set of three finger chords And some heavy reverb bass I never thought it’d be Chopin I can lose myself with less You do what you can In the minutes you find
Doubt (dowt) mythical English creature, half purposeful, half anxious.
Doubtful, doubts were said to have huge appetites, but little interest in pronouns or prepositions, believing them to be constructs of their human suppressors
In fairness, they also knew that humans who tried to suppress doubts very rarely succeeded.
Doubtless, describing a situation where a either no doubts remained, or possibly one fewer, for example, “One doubtless..”
Mrs Doubtfire was a mass murderer and arsonist, there, I’ve said it.
Doubting, patois for being like a doubt.
Doubts were thought to be extinct, but in the morning they always returned.
1st Alex 2nd Douglas
You’ve written a book?
Yes, it’s a quirky metaphorical self- improvement pamphlet
About bank robbers?
It’s not illegal if it’s a metaphor
Are you sure?
Technically simile could land you with community service, but metaphor is ok
Maybe you’d be sent somewhere that felt like prison..
but wasn’t
Exactly, so what’s the central idea?
Approach your life as if you were robbing a bank, always wear a mask, keep the engine running for a swift exit…
Are you sure these are good tips? What about preparation?
Good point, I might include that in the paid-for version..
2024 Blue walls are crumbling How quickly the conjurors are melting away
2025 Budget papers leaked insiders Not wholly true but close enough
2026 Half term Oranges And other even more cumbersome metaphors
2027 Blue walls are still dissolving with toxic microplasticity
2028 Five years pass, sheep are grazing in what seem mostly greener fields