IMPOSTER
Weaving through the glittering throng
Like a shark
But out of my depth
Unsure of the protocol
Snout-powder confidence
It’s just a trick
To cover my unacceptability
So that I can maybe make the most of
This opportunity
This nonsensical moment
A probable clerical error
I’m an imposter
I always have been
And I always will be
Ten minutes tops
And I’ll be out on my arse
GLUE
People talk about old horses being made into glue
Well, I never really quite believed it was true
But I read-up and researched it, and now I’m sure I do
Now I’ve reached an age where I could be glue
I wouldn’t mind a bit
Boil me up, bottle me, and crown me with a lid
Process my collagen, break me down with lime
Reincarnated as a useful gunk
I might stick with it this time
HUMAN SHTICK
If I keep making things
Records
Words
Art
Will it do the trick?
I’m not even sure what trick I mean
It’s slippery
Uncatchable
A glimpse and it’s gone
What am I trying to achieve?
Validation?
Putting yourself “out there”
When you’re inescapably introverted
Your head pops out of the shell
To take the air
Then shoots back in when it gets too much
I suspect, and I’m no Poirot
I suspect, and it’s psych 101
That by making things, making art
We are attempting to remake ourselves
Into something more palatable
Something we can get behind
A creation to endorse
Not this washed up, hopeless glob
Who passes as a decent human being
Because he has observed
He has monitored and absorbed
Learnt the tricks of the human trade
And daily puts them on parade
A puffed up monster
Selling cakes to the gullible
Like an ad man with no faith in the product
Produce art
Produce yourself
Symbiotic
Human shtick
YOUR GRANDKIDS WON’T BELIEVE YOU
Your grandkids won’t believe you
When you tell them about the world
And the way that it was once before
Let’s travel in time
A few decades hence
And see what you’ll have in store…
I don’t know where you get all this stuff
Now you’re old, don’t you get out enough?
I guess you must be bored
And feeling ignored
To invent all these wildlife bluffs
Well, I’ll go along
‘Cos I know it’ll amuse ya
And even though you’re wrong
And a fact pick and chooser
You are my grandad and I’ll cut you some slack
But you go too far sometimes and you ought to hold back
‘Cos people will think you’re mad
These things you call “birds”
They sound quite absurd
And I’m sorry if I can’t help but scoff
Just how would they work
With their twitters and chirps
And two little “wings” to hold them aloft
Creatures of the sky?
Oh grandad, you’ll make me cry!
The laughter is making my stomach hurt!
And however hard you try
To convince me they could fly
I note that your fictions have become quite overt
A “badger”? A “donkey”?
You must think my head’s wonky
A “ferret?” A “mouse”?
Nah, just leave it out!
You must think me naïve
If you think I’d believe
In these ludicrous animals
That you tell me about
And as for a “giraffe”
You’re having a laugh
A beast with a six foot long neck?!
That’s a design monstrosity
A total absurdity
And I demand that you take that one back
Reviews of Cruor (click for full version):
"‘Cruor’ is a great little poetry book by two British punks; both enraged yet hopeful, but expressive in very different poetic voices. Definitely pick this up if punk poetry is your jam." (The Screever)
"Two differing styles, both rooted in a tradition of challenging societal norms. Two writers who understand the disciplines required to effectively imbue their respective voices into the medium of poetry. By turns elemental, poignant, melancholic and absurd, this book is rich with the mosaic of life. If, like me, you have a strained, oftentimes sniffy relationship with poetry, I urge you to add this to your meagre collection. It’s for real." (Personal Punk)
"Across 59 poems you get to explore author, their insight, personal thought and simply the intimate world around us through their eyes and experience with greater landscapes also ventured. Both Dave Cullern and James Domestic also lead you to look at your own experiences and thoughts in many ways. You may share their anger, disappointment, joy and laughter with life and as we found will definitely find the richest enjoyment within Cruor." (The Ringmaster Review)