Poetry: Selections from Martin Appleby


Bootlickers and flagshaggers
queued for hours upon hours
upon hours
to pay respect
to their beloved Liz
but got mad when politicians
and celebrities
cut in line ahead of them
Completely oblivious
to the irony
to the obvious-to-everybody-fucking-else
for their daily lives
living in a country
governed by the ruling class.


Yesterday was National Poetry Day
and I chose to work on my novella
instead of writing a new poem
Fuck you
I won't do what you tell me.


The rebellion will have to wait
until this hangover subsides
Please send thoughts and prayers
1 prayer = 1 like
Another day on a dying planet
spun around the embers of a dying sun
I have befriended all of my demons
and my heroes are still unsung
Running myself into the ground
sick of giving more than I ever take
Running towards an uncertain future
from a past none of us can escape
Running out of ideas
until I am booed off the metaphorical stage
The only thing that can save us now
is a 12pt font on a clean white page
Type until my fingers bleed
or until any of this shit makes sense
Which might be a while
because this hangover is fucking intense
Summon the help of a mythical deity
burn all scientists at the stake
Decoding ancient texts
anything published this century is fake
Pushing your buttons
just for something to do
Picking at my bones
giving you greasy, fatty morsels to chew
I'm a scammer, a fraud, a blagger, a bullshitter
no rebel, just a clown
I am a drunk walking a high wire
and the only way is down.

Martin Appleby is a punk, poet, vegetarian, cider drinking scumbag from Hastings, England. He runs Scumbag Press and edits Paper and Ink Literary Zine.


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