Stephen Pain's Writings
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Oct.20.2010
Sour grapes, they float like AmericanIdol comment boxes, it is crystal clearthat Hart and I will need to keep Lee sideof the husks, the purple-blue ovoidsbob and blip in the scudding overflowof popular downloads, is this currentenough, are we on the Radio, you know,Hart, we can do this standing on our heads,Review the winners, who win by a stanzain the TLS, pipe...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
Orphic choices allow usto make headway throughthe waves of INFOalong the Super Highwayas pop-ups, sound-bites,as banners, as promisesplay in the wind of the newsanother soul put to restanotheranotheranother another anotheranother another anotheranotheranotheranotheranotheruntil all one hearsis the conch shell of white noisepretending to be the Sea.
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Oct.20.2010
The log-book has us still adriftbetween two rocks, with the greenastroturf of success on the oneand the snotty green slime on the other, with the exclusiveI got my tailor made life on one,and mine I found in the garbageon the other, sirens on the oneare high-heeled, silver-spooneddolce vita, diamond-studded,on the other they are loudear-splitting curses and...
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Oct.20.2010
ADRIFT, cut off, separated, the dysfunctional childin need of a Jean Harlow mummy and Harry's wetblanket on a wire frame, the junk is directionless
in the me old china sea, like a tea leaf spinning onthe surface of a haiku
Don't worry me hearties, when all is done and lostlike after the volcano, after the holocaust
you can always have a cuppa cha.
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Oct.20.2010
We are getting by, quite nicely, with the Silver poets of Españadoing the donkey work and with the puppetry of Federico Garcia Lorcaperforming in the shadows of the rack,
Now that's what I call carrying the canon on one's back, readinga bit too much between the eyes, still in the rough, common as muck,in the back of a Cuban bar
Snogging sailors, snorkelling in...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
The cargo, contraband, the treasure chestof aphorisms from the Romans and Greeks,Even the Byzantine and Egyptian, from the Bookof the Dead, from Tao, and from after your timeHart, from Che Guevara, from Chairman Mao,they are all from the culture of unreflected reading,What Pliny the Elder warned about, gleaned fromT-shirt slogans, from the Couplands, from the...
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Oct.20.2010
Now that the whale is in its demiseused for a premiss, or an argumentWhere the God is the true North of Compass,Not, for I am an unbeliever, Hart, I travel on this junk of ours, which incidentlyis only figuratively, with the aim, of a poemthat has blundered its way into an epic,What has passed, what landmarks did we spot,A recapitulation seems in order, but it...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
Amast, a moist expectoration from the crow's nestof imagination, hoist the sail Hart, allow its breadthto cover and carry all the sins, in the absurd spit-festof wrongful indignation, foist this, the whale fart,the fellow Melville, and an inclination toward taxonomy,well this breach of conduct, born from going againstthe metric rules, their ticker-tape, bunsen-...
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Poem
Oct.20.2010
U-t-t-e-r-a-n-c-ecan't get a word in edgewise, as the junk sails outof the Great Malvern pond towards the sunrise,Fancythe depth of poetics is measured not in decibelsbut decantedinto leathered flagons of wine from the RubyiatYou dig?as the enterprise navigates through the languageon the game, hey pretty boys and girls, fancy atrickUrthe race is on to cross the...
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Poem
Oct.18.2010
Almost imperceptible signs of man's impudenceand cost, as I wait for the bus and in silencetake up in my hand a stone cold blackbird's egg that once harboured within its shellmornings of song and delight, and like inEdward Thomas's poem, where men andwomen went to war, their absence markedby the effort taken to plough, now herethe abandoned nest, the lonely...
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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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