Westerling

Westerling

A Poem by Alistair (Ali)

The poster read:

“Gone Missing”

The come-back-kid
has failed to show.
The Old Man saw him,
pissing by the Rainbow Factory
wall, against the wind,
like a prayer no longer given
to the prism-surfing life.

He said,

“The come-back-kid, might
Not come back”..

He wrung his 
swindled heathen, left
with haversack and Macintosh,
hummed ballad in a Sea-King crown,
the colloquy of shepherd lore.
head far too full to sing,

Caught riding 
in a burnt out car of
rude December archetypes,
an engine feathered Westerling,
to think.

He went 
to where they bury boats,

Where mud larks perk
for potsherd farthings,
red-shanked in the gallon slob
oblivious...

Far off the Ness
He’ll watch them go..

... on meteoric dawn patrols,
a contrast to his built-in
obsolescence.

In provinces
of platitude
He’ll form no evanescent tie,
invoke his tattooed waxwing 
back against their lactic 
saccharine, to beg
the notion die...

But leavened light may carry,

A bold ceramic dialect
that skitters off 
the short-sun marsh

dissipates in linnet banter
winnowed from the winter barley
crossing out the county lines..


The come-back-kid
will not return,
a blue-eyed, fell, Promethean.

Disfigured by the absolute
He’ll beat his way
unrecognised.

© 2019 Alistair (Ali)


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Added on August 31, 2019
Last Updated on August 31, 2019

Author

Alistair (Ali)
Alistair (Ali)

Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom



About
I write because I cannot paint. I enjoy the flavor of words, their subtle tastes and textures. I savor their spice and their sea salt. They are washed in on tides of thought, and i comb the strand.. more..

Writing
Yen Yen

A Poem by Alistair (Ali)