Untitled

And now love has flayed
Let us splash the rawness
Which we abrade
With your mother’s whiskey
My father’s wine
Taking turns to turn
The knife

You dropped your bags
And I dropped my towel
It affronted you at first
Then made you speak foul

You thought I said lecturers
When really it was lecherous
Which goes to show
Sex is better left mindless.

I, Beard

I stroke, twist, and knead my cheeks
It doesn’t looks like worship
I make sure of that
In a meticulous use of the guardian.
Instead it seems
I’m thinking
In more depth than The Thinker -
Incandescence, set in bronze, cast
Internationally - although,
I look more like the Affe Mit Schadel.


I blame the
Iberian in me
I.e. my lime-green and red blood,
Iambs that run in my veins - an
Irascible nature pours forth. My
Identity can both boil and molt.

Evolution

In a Catholic school aged ten,
I told the world the truth.
An animated timeline span the length
Of the whiteboard fourteen separate stations
And fourteen separate men.
All equally drawn
With graphite lines on graphic paper,
A picture of some balls in 2D
Didn’t shock my mates, but it was all
The real evidence they needed.

Oreopithecus. Paranthropus. Homo Erectus.
Just one boy trumpeting the names
Like they were footballers,
They say they ate from the Cola nut, which is why we love the stuff,
No one understood the heresy,
Except Sir, who knew something we didn’t.
He was young and had a glint in his eye.

On a pew gripping our thighs, tension
Hung from the monkey bars of the assembly hall.
A few murmurs were read
And as I said cheese and clapped like a seal
Dmitri collected the award
For his theory of dinosaurs
(His felt-tip work was what won it).


Copyright Mark Farinha.