Without the catalyst
The dull thud of a predictable end
Nothing happens so
Go now
Assassinate the prism
Steal the laughter from the Carousel
Silence the Glam Rock
Frankenstein
Let the Himalayan mountain flags fly
Give me the catalyst that changes
Everything
Why?
So that the other person
The other me
Dies
Differently
Not I
With the decrepit downfall
Mind and body aches away
A pencil mark wet thumbed
Smudge on paper
As I
Tumble down the railway embankment flailing
Sluice down the storm drain
Into the unquestioned Nothing
So I’m not slowly being devoured
By the non-remembering
Devoured by time and decay
At the age of 17 I wrote that I would “die in a doorway in Tangier”
Across from the abattoir
Below the room I was living in
Rolling a joint while below me
A fat man in a dirty vest
Kicks a sack and tries to count
Live chickens unsuccessfully
Unaware of the scorched metaphor
He just created
.
Malcolm Paul
Picture Tinus van Doorn
.