Once, in Heaven
Once, in Heaven, I was asked,
Had I ever killed a man in my life?
Yeah, I replied, it was back in me skinhead days.
The place was called Hell, me and me cronies,
Were scouring the streets for a package,
Of ice, coke, soap, whatever they call it,
Hidden, the boss gave us a map.
Well, we finds it, wrong time wrong place,
For the man who was there,
It was hidden in the drain, under a small nook,
Anyways, me an’ the lads cornered him, jogged his memory,
He said he had lost his ‘ouse keys, we laughed.
He said he never seen the pure, uncut, white, parcel hidden under the grate,
Tried to do a runner he did, nuh-uh, wrong time wrong place wrong choice.
I tol’d the boys ta leave us,
A secret is a secret, I said, and it can’t ger r’out,
I told the boys I had gutted him, sliced him from cheek to cheek, not in the usual sense.
We shut down the street, so to speak, e’en the coppers avoided us.
Took us a good twenty odd minutes to prise off the drain, in’t end, I took out me piece, and blasted off the hinges.
It was an insignificant package, white and sealed tight,
I know’s something wan’t right, I rummaged around the drain,
Whilst shit poured from above,
It was difficult to see it, but I saw it,
A set of silver sewage stained skeletons,
I returned t’at boss.
‘e was a cold man, a smart suit reminiscent of a professional hitman,
Weren’t we all?
His eyes watched me with hunger, a patient intent.
I told him what ‘ad happened,
He asked me, what I did wi’ert body,
I said I had cut it up, and chucked it into the sea,
Wrong answer, wrong time, wrong place, wrong choice.
The cops will be crawling all ov’ert this, ‘e said,
There can’t be no links, he declared.
Lay low, hide, anything until the coast was clear,
A secret is a secret, and it can’t get out. He said, Bang!
Dead. He shot me there and then, I didn’t even have time ta blink.
A neat hole on my forehead, and a bloody mess at the back.
So why was I in Heaven? I was asked again.
Don’t be a cretin I laughed.
I let the man go.
My first poem, not quite finished cleanly, most of it was done when I was strolling in the park - heard it in my head, and I scribbed as much down on my forearm as possible, don't worry, it is my work. It has elements of Lawrence Ferlingetti's "Two Scavengers"... and some of Seamus Heaney's "Hitcher".
Since I did English Lit at GCSE and A-level. It's mostly free verse, one case of sybillance, mostly simple diction, dramatic monologue, blah, blah, blah. I'm such a narcisstic for rating my own poem.
PS: Noticed the naughty word mid-way, if admin sees fit, please remove.
Edited by darkfang77, 23 April 2011 - 04:51 AM.