newspaper blackout poems on the train

(with apologies to newspaper blackout poetry man)

Train Pain

Pippa Maude Kendrick
sits on the train To London
once again,

“WHAT A MONUMENTAL PAIN!”
She shouts in the face of a man
Who has clearly styled himself as
An East Anglian David Blaine.

“There’s no need for that” he claims,
This twat, a false, more annoying than David Blaine,
version of the already twatty, false, annoying, David Blaine,
Annoying Pippa’s already annoyed face
On this already annoying train.

“Well actually I do believe there is!” Pippa exclaims
“WHAT A MONUMENTAL PAIN!
WHAT A MONUMENTAL PAIN!
WHAT! A! MONUMENTAL!PAIN!”,
She repeats,
louder than before,
Over and over,
And over again.

Outside the train it begins to rain
But no one notices as
Pippa’s vocal cords take the strain
And her mantra becomes louder,
More piercing,
Then louder and more piercing again.

“WHAT A MONUMENTAL PAIN!
WHAT A MONUMENTAL PAIN!
WHAT A MONUMENTAL PAIN!
WHAT A MONUMENTAL PAIN!”

When the train finally arrives at Liverpool Street Station
Everyone is dead
(Ear drums pierced, pools of claret, red)
Apart from Pippa Maude Kendrick
Who exits refreshed,
Smiling, glowing,
Ready for the busy day ahead.

smelly memories

In my memory
The smell of the sea,
Up my nose,
Where it’s not meant to be,
Is mixed with swimming pool chlorine
And the warm
Dust filled air
That follows a rare
Explosive rainstorm.

Inhaling cooked leather car seats,
My mind eats the vapour
Of curried beef patties
and golden Cheetos
While old rusted iron anchors,
Air conditioned rooms
And the inside of airplanes
bustle for 5 seconds
with my inner nostril.

My nasal memory hairs move on,
To a stone
Suddenly
Smashed
Down
on a lime
Which explodes!
painting the inside of my brain green with envy
at another place
and another time.