Saturday, 14 November 2009

Sod it

When one is ill they have to make the most of it. So inbetween the bouts of vomit I have re drafted my two univeristy poems.
I am also craving a cigarette, but need to buy tobacco, which means smoking out of mine and marks last six pounds this week for food and venturing into the rain.

Which I can not bring myself to do, so I suppose writing poetry can help with addicts restraint as well.

The first one is losely based around my mum. Who may not be a hypercondriac but certainly takes a lot of medicine. The second is losely based on Y Not festival that I went to in the summer. We didn't fall over in front of a group of people and get offered brandy (shame) but the rest happened.

Hypercondriac

Rifling mums bag for a rizla
I find layers of pill packets with
little bulges one side
tinfoil on the other.
Zirtek and Paracetamol
evening primrose for periods
diocalm for dodgy digestion
brendroflumethiazide
for blood pressure
and epilim for her epilepsy.
A small air tight container
with cod liver oil for fish frail bones
and vitiamin C for colds.
A tub of vaseline for worry lines
and a watch ticking away the minutes.

Festival

We sail past the security guard who looks like Elvis
hands paddle either side of an abandoned lilo
which we travel on through watery mud.
He stares while we wave wrist bands and
say goodbye.

Later on my welly boots once green now mud, trudge
through crowds of wet pissed people
drinking in the naked boys
who slip and slide on their beer bellies
through the ooze.
I am holding up a friend
who wants that man
with the leopard skin hands
to give her more speed.

We avoid more of the tents
guys ropes catch our feet
we plunge face first into the squelch.
The stages are empty of sound
only the shouts from alcohol remain
and the group circled under a marquee
tight with conversation
who laugh when we fall.
Instead of a hand they offer us brandy
It burns my throat
I finish the bottle.

I wake up
in a tent that's gone stale
like the hard crust of sick on my chin.
Sun's shining in, hot boxing the tent
zip won't work
rip it,
wellys on again.

3 comments:

Amanda said...

I don't have the fish pills!!

Maisy Mae said...

And your not a Hypercondriac.
It is losely based on you...but most of it is ficticious

BabyLongLegs said...

I wonder what she's taking at the moment for her poorly nose?
S xXx