Monday, December 04, 2006

Poetry by Chris Major


I thought I was liberal,

very non-judgemental,

yet I counted the minutes

his yashmack covered wife

spent in that toilet.

Studied his thumb

flicking the buttons

of a silver i-pod,

expecting leg room

in economy class

to increase by 20000 feet.

While my ears

strained strange language,

I hoped the trolley dolly's

liquor cart would

calm frayed nerves-

but no, of course,

they took no drink.

On disembarking,

I watched them

dissolve into the throng,

lifted my luggage,

briefly wondered where

such prejudice had been hidden,

dismissed it,

and like everyone else had

'Nothing To Declare'............



She's staring blankly

at the day's carnage.

The mourning, the wailing-

women cloth covered

exposing only grief.

She wants to leave

and take her children,

is sick of living in fear

but has nowhere to go.

Suddenly, another

attack is launched.

Before losing consciousness

she hears her toddler's

pathetic whimpers,

her husband screaming-

"Why are you watching 'The News',

where's my fuckin' dinner?"



Apparently you were a drinker,

a heavy one;

we heard about your consumption,

and a sad history,

as the belly opened

with the psssst of a can

to show rotten innards.

Some looked away,

a few walked out,

I was ok

though glad the

face was covered.

We spilled to sunshine,

gasps of air.

Most said it was the smell,

the gore had been seen before

in horror flicks 'n' documentarys.

For me it was Jill ;

your amateur tattoo now mind fixed,

its faded J

hooking and holding dead meat,

and for a short while at least

making you more than that......

--Chris Major

Chris Major lives in Staffordshire and is training as a Psychiatric Nurse.
Poetry in UK print magazines including:Outposts,Pennine Platform,Poetry Nottingham,Iota, Poetry Monthly etc.
Online at amongst others:Snakeskin,Poetry Kit,Psychopoetica,Poetry Worm,Zygote,Babyclam Undergroundvoices,High Horse,Lit Vision etc.
Print chapbook
Online chapbook