KILLER CLOWNS

KILLER CLOWNS

The killer clowns are coming!

Killer clowns!

Killer clowns!

The killer clowns are coming!

Coming to get

You!

Somebody does a new thing

It gets liked

Liked a lot

Someone copies that old thing

Someone else does

Too!

The bandwagon is coming!

Bandwagon!

Bandwagon!

The bandwagon is coming!

Wants to involve

You!

Now everyone does the thing

It’s trending

It’s trending

So then telly drives the thing

Like that old thing’s

New!

The killer clowns are coming!

Killer clowns!

Killer clowns!

The killer clowns are coming!

Coming to scare

You!

No original thinking

Nothing new

Nothing new

Let’s just join in with the thing

Like all the rest

Do!

The killer clowns are coming!

Killer clowns!

Killer clowns!

The killer clowns are coming!

Coming to kill

You!

Martin A W Holmes, October 2016

HALLOW'S EVE THY NAME

HALLOW’S EVE THY NAME

It’s the time of year for hiding

In a cold, dark house

In case teeny, tiny

Protection racketeers

Come a-calling

Demanding tooth-rot

With menaces

MAWH, Oct 31 2016

HANDS-FREE

HANDS-FREE

The woman drives around the corner

Her hands gesticulating wildly

Fingers point and wave furiously

As she makes several salient points

To her invisible passenger

That or she must be on bluetooth

In using her hands so pointedly

She’s unaware of the irony

Of going hands-free in the first place

With all of her unseen grand gestures

Underscoring invisible points

To an unexpected audience

Either that or her unseen children

Are lurking hidden in the back seats

Although I prefer the first theory

As they’d be transparent and naked

How would an invisible person

Manage to get to work otherwise?

The woman in my rear-view mirror

Talks animatedly at her dashboard

Mouth flapping silently endlessly

Discussing the day’s new outrages

To an invisible listener

Furiously safe in her steel box

The man in the white van hurtles along

Heads in the opposite direction

So blatantly chatting and laughing

A hand-held phone clamped to his ear

The rest of the world invisible

As he speeds along the busy high street

Why would anyone choose to do this?

Especially when tonking along

At over thirty miles an hour

At the busiest time of the day

Oblivious to any dangers

The worst of which is simply himself

My grandfather did once advise me

That a should never ever forget

That a car is a lethal weapon

It’s the only piece of advice

From an otherwise forgettable life

That I can remember him giving

They were wise words nevertheless

After all, if I could have a near miss

With no music, no radio, no chat

On a bright clear summer’s afternoon

In my apparently invisible car

What hope do any pedestrians have?

Martin A W Holmes, October 2016

AUTUMN COLOUR

AUTUMN COLOUR

The milk white sky hangs around all day

Pale muted light softening the brightness

From burning embers of the dying season

Yet those colours are still calling to me

Hatted, booted, North Face coated head out

To capture colours conspicuously teasing

Burnt orange, blazing crimson, burning gold,

The snapper looking for autumn colour

Click-click-clicking in the woods

Leaves clinging on to life with a hint of rust

Defiant against gravity, gales and deluge

Transforming degenerating yet warmly pleasing

Lack of birds disturbs; Many heard but few seen

Hidden by branches still surprisingly green

The randomness of the change has no reason

Paler greens, muted chartreuse, shattered jade

The snapper looking for autumn colour

Click-click-clicking in the woods

The viewfinder catches worrying windows

With my innocent lens I fear drawn conclusions

Terror of the self-righteous needing appeasing

Met an old neighbour I’d not seen in a while

I frightened a horse - it frightened me right back

For a terrorised instant beating blood was freezing

Bright yellow, fading ochre, rusting brown,

The snapper looking for autumn colour

Click-click-clicking in the woods

The path paved with leaves, mud and water

Families with children and bikes leave their ruts

Look at me alone as if I’m committing treason

Dogs freed from leads can dump as they please

Out of eyeshot no wild-eyed witness picks it up

Squatting blatantly as their waste is squeezing

Burnt umber, filthy mocha, stinking brown,

The snapper looking for autumn colour

Shit-slick-slipping in the woods

Martin A W Holmes, October 2016 

MINT OR ANISEED

MINT OR ANISEED

Sunday morning supermarket

In the pharmaceutical aisle

Examining racked stacked bottles

An elderly gentleman pauses

Pores over indigestion medicine

As if it is the finest of wines

Saturday evening aftermaths

In the depths of darkest autumn

Sold in the largest priciest bottles

He rejects the “Double-Action”

Mulls over Mint or Aniseed

Lo-cost choice a sign of the times

Weekly shopping tornado

In the usual raging hurry

Swoops in to snatch his own bottle

Original Aniseed middle-sized

Wished they stocked the larger vessels

Needs more caution when he dines

Martin A W Holmes, October 2016

RED BULL NIGHTS

RED BULL NIGHTS

The notorious insomniac working a bar

Notices we’ve got in these new soft drinks

“These look exciting! What exactly are they?”

In such pretty cans looking pretty grown up

“Why don’t you try one?” She asks

“Okay, thanks, I’ll try a Red Bull”

The infamous insomniac facing a long shift

Finds the stuff in those cans is really quite tasty

The punters coming in with a long night ahead

Ordering their rounds before the curtain lifts

“And have one yourself” They say

“Oh thanks, I’ll have a Red Bull”

With a long lull in prospect before the first act

We’ve washed up and stacked up all the used glasses

It’s too early to set out interval refreshments

Time to indulge in a moment of peace

“So, what you drinking?” I’m asked

“Oh thanks, I’ll have a Red Bull”

Interval comes I’ve still not read the label

I’m oblivious to that high caffeine content

At half-time it’s swift rounds that they’re buying

Including their new mate, the guy serving them

“And have one yourself” He says

“Oh thanks, I’ll have a Red Bull”

After-show drinking is so very sociable

Especially on the last night of a show

Thanks to be given; awards being presented

I’ll be lucky if I’ll get home by two

“Do you want a drink?” She asks

“Oh thanks, I’ll have a Red Bull”

Cashing up, locking up, a long night nearly over

Need to sleep! Need to sleep! Got up so early!

Revving at the lights, heart palpitating wildly

Then staring at the ceiling the rest of the night

“God! What have I done?” I ask

Shouldn’t have had eight cans of Red Bull

Martin A W Holmes, October 2016

CHEMISTRY LESSON

CHEMISTRY LESSON

On-screen chemistry

So hard to manufacture

Injecting diversity

Is really not the answer

It’s never easy

To find three random faces

Who also happen to gel

Enough to take tribes places

Viewers are fickle

They like what’s familiar

Mess with this at your peril

Watch your ratings drop so far

Favourites matter

They decide who to make stars

You may not like who they do

Even three white guys with cars

Don’t mess with line-ups

Respect their opinions

If their taste’s conservative

You’ll retain those millions

Martin A W Holmes, October 2016

MORNING DRAMAS

MORNING DRAMAS

On a deep black Thursday morning

Long before the day was dawning

There’s a crackling flicker of flame

Bursting from pitch dark horizons

A distant building was burning

The flickering shape of a church -

Perhaps a school - in orange bright

Dancing cutouts kept reforming

Far away burning mysteries

Make my morning commute slightly

Distracted and defocussed but

More dramatic than usual

By the time I could work out where

The flames that I could see leaping

From the hilltops might be raging

I was waiting at traffic lights

The fire engines were already

Overtaking – Blue lit, silent

Racing through enlightened morning

In unexpected directions

A sense of guilt nibbles away

Should I have dialed 999?

When others obviously had

To explain what I’d seen somewhere

I can't imagine that a call

Saying "There's a fire somewhere

Along a direct line between

Mellor and the city centre…”

“…Somewhere along those nine miles

A building is burning it seems!”

Would have helped the emergency

Services a great deal, though

I kept going – as did the flames

Far further away than I thought

Any call that I might have made

Would have been utterly useless

I sat in some traffic later

In Romiley - a huge orange

Light bursting over to my right

Beyond where the Cricket Club lies

Later I check social websites

“Romiley” and “Fire” I type

Misinformation abounding

Around old halls and paper mills

Four, six or seventeen tenders

Attending the great inferno

Firemen turning up everywhere

Beating off swooning girls with sticks

Turned out that the conflagration

Was a housing development

Near complete - now utterly gone

Happily the Old Hall still stands

Stories continue to smoulder

Arson incident suspected

Chimneys still have to be pulled down

Journo sorry she lacked make-up

Martin A W Holmes, October 2016