Afore “Get Lost!” None – Paul Brookes


tells me owt.

I’ll keep it short.
Folk don’t reckon.
Soft in the head. 

To share’s forbidden.
Grip my hand, lad
for sores
and livelong pain.

Smell this breath,
for rotten air
that’ll make you gip.

Others are stench.
Others touch, poison.

Use ’em.
Abuse ’em.

In face swearers
do my head. Spoutin’

“I’m your mate.”
“You’re me dad.”
“I love you.”
“You’re family.”

Abusers. Shop ’em.

Don’t come close again, lad.
These boots are fed
on others blood.

Have her
and she’ll have thee.

Drop a sprog.
Dump it outside.
If sharp tooth cold
don’t have it,
it’ll get on. You.
Bring yourself up.

You soon learn.
Do nothing for nubdy.
All for yourself.

Nubdy trusts no one.
Way it is. Keep
yourself to yourself.

Selfish is good.
Now, bugger off.
Else you’ll lick
end of me
steel toecap.

Paul Brookes has been published in many magazines in south west England. He performed as a member of the poetry in performance group “Rats for Love” and his work was included in their 1989 publication “Rats for Love: The Book” by Bristol Broadsides. His first chapbook published in 1993 was “The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley” by Dearne Community Arts.


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