Stephen Pain's Writings
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
Hart me boy, buoyed up by the startof the day, we made much headwayin the compositionin the renditionof the poeticsincarceratedin the policyacross the big pond Took us to new depths of interpretationthrough the channel of Fox Newswith flak to right, flak not from the leftwe cut to the chase, found and almost groundedon the chitchat and hatred of opinionto the EL...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
nineteenmade it to nineteenwe count the isles of wordscavort in the numerical like the kiddies with pebblesready to throw at bottleswe refuse to hunt for an allusionor reference to 19taking together a stanceagainst information thatsluttishly splashes on the screenin its steadon the bowof the junkwe bondin our determinationto be chimericalto cock a snoot at the...
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Oct.20.2010
sabaH al-khair with the tapped telephone - Hart and Iare suspected of being at onewith those with the Devil hairinstead intense eavesdroppersyou are mistaken, we are with arms stretchedsurrendering to the morning sunbasking in the glory of the bleachedsands, where we find no day-trippersonly the peace of the shore, its girdleof seaweed and pearls of detritusthe...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
Suffering catfish, if I lived to bethe ass of a mynah bird, I wouldmimic my fart and call it Art.Got your attention now, in the bombasticJohn underDonne way with Southern fries,Note, Hart and I, we are buddies like Danteand Virgil, we get along in the fantastic,the Rosemary Jackson, kind of thing,cept, it is in a kinda po-et-tryAs our mate Owen Wilson says...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
Lay, boom, boom, layLay, boom, boom, laySo the oil drums do playSo the oil drums do playIn the sea, on a voyageIn the sea, on a voyagethe reverie of VachelLindsay, we do paya courtesy call, a studyof the perverse, as weHart and I, have no truckwith racial beat, we reversethe flow of hate, andLay, boom, boom, layLay, boom, boom, layain't that a mantraof the 20th...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
For C.
Are you awake my lovely to the sunthat ties the bow of radiance upon the nightpresents us with the morning and the audienceof a tree or two, then the shops across withmannequins, early workers, the crows andthe blackbirds, as the stage of day opensinto the consciousness,
Are you awake my lovely to the rays oflight that describe the morning narrativelike...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
In the view stretching like a longtumbling lawn from an expansiveHenry James' novel, we will Hart,undoubtedly arrive at a not sosatisfactory conclusion as to whetherthe Art is in the metrical precision,i.e. that one promotes descriptivedesign and cold intent, or whetherit is the short but tense vocalisationof a HD that has the economyof a walnut, but the...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
unlucky, tragedy, the baker's dozen,burnt to a cinder, extraterritorialeruction, takes us to the vessel of fools, pacification is the dummyin transatlantic legacy, the facilehope for serenity, lagoonal, goonybird take off, impeded by religiosity,and by demands too high, deathdowns nine, and wins the game,they do not understand each other,each with a cross...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
The mariners that we are, marinatedin the juices of the poets before, not a niceimage mind you Hart, though good for the panhandler looking for a gem or gold in the courseof reading, like the excavation of the Mary Rose,a fruity ship, like Peter the Pomegranate,a shipwreck like carrack, done my homework,they had hand held weapons and canonsno titters there boys,...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
hihiphipphippehippee
hyhyphypehyper-shyper-sonhyper-sonihyper-sonic
let us sail the hip junk, sail her to the mid-east, at ease captain, sail her tothe holey land, no worries bro, we meanthe deposit accountwhere they putin the money and, no sorry sis, we are leanthe prositindenture, sneeze and the cocaineand the dollarsvanishinthe holey landso you need moreit's a...
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About Stephen
I have been writing since my teens. Poetry, short fiction and drama. I have also edited several classics. In addition to this I have written on art, animal communication and marketing.
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