Three Poems / by Gary W. Hartley

UK Living
 

60-minute makeovers
In 59 minutes
Boy this is progress
The answer to everything:
Build more bars
Increase the sales of
Ironic Christmas jumpers
All year round
Defend the right
To spend your whole life
In the car park of
A retail park
Then insist on
Death by chocolate

 

 

 

 

Poetic Potential
 

The small mercies of London town
You should write a poem about that

This documentary I saw on TV last night
You should write a poem about that

The feeling you can’t escape a bad flat share
You should write a poem about that 

This thing my mum said the other week
Or maybe it was the week before
You should write a poem about that

The amount of time you haven’t had sex for
You should write a poem about that

The dizzy feeling the docs can’t diagnose
You should write a poem about that

The stunted conversations at funerals
You should write a poem about that

The fact the grass is sometimes greener on the other side
You should write a poem about that

All the buzzwords you accidentally started saying
Unironically after beginning ironically
You should write a poem about that

The way the mind goes blank when you score a goal
You should write a poem about that

Your suggestion pessimism is closer to realism
You should write a poem about that

This guy I once met in Ibiza about 2007
You should write a poem about that

When the semblance of a good idea
Goes on for too long
Starts becoming somewhat worse for wear
And eventually more or less caves in on itself
You should write a poem about that

Well there you go--it’s done now

 

 

 

 

The Life Achievements of Big Dave
 

There was the time Big Dave
Downed ten Aftershocks
Rolled in aniseed and stayed overnight
In a dog pound
Mistaking it for a motel
What a lege
What an absolute lege

There was the time Big Dave
Downed ten snakebites
Swam three circuits of
The resort’s septic tank
And went out without a shower
Talked his way into the VIP room
Without a guestlist
What a lad
What a lege and a lad

There was the time Big Dave
Downed ten shots of white spirit
Through the eyeballs
Smashed all the windows
In the taxi rank
Eloped with a driver’s wife
Concluded a business deal
In a Vegas jail cell
What a dawg
What a lege and a lad and a dawg

There was the time Big Dave
Was presumed M.I.A.
Missing in Absolutely legendary bender
In reality was sat in the bath
For two days straight
Not eating solids for seven
Crying solidly until thinned like
Kid’s cake rice paper characters
Flattened by wild-eyed expectation
He didn’t tell his mates

But he’s alright now
You can tell because
He’s on his ninth Apple Sourz
And he’s nurturing hell
Like he’s willing to raise it
To maturity
This big bastard banter baby knows
Time cannot be wasted
It can only be filled

 

 

 

Gary W. Hartley is sometimes to be found on stage under the moniker 'Gary From Leeds' and once dressed as a yeti for three weeks solid. He co-edited The Alarmist until he didn't.