Sunday, December 03, 2006

The Last Hour

Here I sit,
Feigning nonchalance,
Typing away,
As I have for this last hour,
In this window at an internet café,
Pretending curiosity at police activities,
A little further along this street.

Here I sit,
Oohing and ahhing at speculated rumour,
A breathless excited youth tells of blood pool,
And an apparent body under grey blanket.

For a brief moment, very brief,
I almost, almost, want to tell them,
Exactly what and why,
But that’d be asinine.

It’s been long enough, an hour,
So I log out, get up,
Return cup and saucer to counter.
Then, hands in pockets,
Idly caressing the cut-throat razor,
I leave.

Walking slowly,
Past and through gathered crowds,
Getting moved along,
Rubber necking like a tourist in a new location.
Though “there’s nothing to see”,
“Move along, move along”,
Along I move.

9 comments:

Rob said...

Powerful and disturbing poem.

Anonymous said...

Oh, ICK! (Thanks ;-D)

Anonymous said...

Evocative. Ever think of writing some verse fiction? This would be a great opener.

Inconsequential said...

verse fiction?

guess i'd better look that up, unless it's exactly what it says on the tin....

this piece was me trying to be subtle, but not oblique...

i suspect most of my stuff would be classed as fiction :)
...

I do know my writing abilities are not upto prose standard yet though.
well, that is to say, I don't think my abilities are even up to shite poem status yet :)
In the past, having read so many other blog poets now, i would have given up, as most of what i read seems so much more competant, if not down right good, and lots of it is in proper formats, that rhyme and stuff, so yeah, in the old days I would have quit long long time ago. But, i'm enjoying this at the moment, and because a few people seem to be liking it also, well, guess i'll carry on :)
now why have i waffled that off??

cya l8rz

Molly Bloom said...

Oh goodness...it is the distanced voice that is most disturbing in this. And the way they just get up and walk off. Mixing the ordinary with the extraordinary.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, OK humility I admire. But I also think that one of the points at which you seem to shine is when narrative comes into your poems. BTW I have to be elitist about poetry. Come on, surely it is the pinnacle of writing. I am not saying that you, I and others are frequently worthy of the high call, but I reckon that's what these blogs are about. Experimental cooking. Seaching for the cordon bleu lines. And by gosh I think we taste a couple from time to time.
My wife corrects me. The genre is called 'verse novels'. But you'd be well on the way with a sequel to this poem. Or multiple parts. See where the idea takes you. It doesn't have to extend to 500 pages. (Did you know that November is novel writing months. A tradition since the '90's. Last month thousands of people all over the world scrawled out book length fiction in 30 days. Might be an interesting exercise one year.)

Inconsequential said...

a book? in 30 days!!!! Gosh!
errr, i'll think about it...???

hell, i struggle to drop a PPP per day...i'd hate to think what sort of monstrosity would pour out over 30...

I do quite like the idea of running themes though, I often end up wanting to write another along the same lines as a previous, hence the burning man thing, although that kinda wrote itself.

this one actually started out just as the murder itself, then ended up as it is now...wonder if i still have the scribblings for the original, might post that up soon :)

oddly, i have a three parter, with a sub bit in the offing, i'll try and tidy it up a little and whack it up.

you've given me much to ponder Ish, thankyou.

Eleuktra Starsoft said...

Do you ever get that sensation of being singularly an observer of your own senses?

It's probably related to deja vu or something, but often I'll get the feeling that what is going on around me is indirect in some sort of way. Like I'm watching it on telly.

Nice post, Inc. And of course its right that the best place to hide is in a crowd. And where people don't expect you to be.

Inconsequential said...

or, why really leave the scene of a crime, when you know it's traditional to return...just hang around nearby :)

as for the indirect thing, yeah, I know that feeling...but when i look at the crowds milling around, i also wonder how many others have the same feeling...