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''They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes,
Within a dream.''


2014 Pushcart Prize nominee. (more)

New story collection coming soon: Pseudo Stars

Many stories and poems published worldwide.
My work is raw and from experience and observations.


anthonyjlangford2@yahoo.com.au


Poem - It’s a balls life



This week I went to the monthly Sydney poetry night at the Friend in Hand in Glebe and decided to try something a bit different. Live crowds seem to respond better to more amusing works and given that it was Grand Final weekend just gone, I thought I'd try something along those lines.

Here it is, for better or worse.
(More than likely worse but taking yourself seriously too much can get a bit dull).






It’s a balls life

It’s a full football weekend
two grand finals in two days
There’s more testosterone than a school of speeding seals
In an ice cave brothel
Children are bearing pointed teeth with ripped flesh
Women are sprouting hair like Sasquatch
Brazilians reversing in an Evil Dead forest scene in triple time.


Collingwood fan


Trees tainted by taunts…
Skies sandwiched by streamers
Blue white and red left ripped with roars
Cover your ears, or be gnawed by boars.


Infamous NRL Grand Final bite.

There’s got to be an analogy in here somewhere of balls
There’s enough of those oval shapes to spice up soup for an cannibal army
Goalposts pointing to the sky like penises
Primed for pumping
Try’s eclipsed
By testicular ticklers
Eulogy’s written by managers of losing teams
Comparing death and sacked nations to the injustice of the play
It’s just a game
No its fucking not!

AFL 2012 Grand Final - Sydney vs Hawthorn

Umpires more evil than a pinched prostate
Rhetoric flows thicker than a politician’s poo
The blows in sweep in like it’s part of their job
Thus, A blow job
The cup floweth over
Ah
Don’t go there.

No more testing the troops with testes
Let it lie
Flaccid and forlorn
There’s always a loser
In love and in footy
And if balls aren't your thing
There’s always next year’s
Fishing trip.

But I ain't writing that one.


NRL Melbourne Storm fans




Another semi amusing poem I wrote turned out better so I might try and submit it around before I share it here.

This week I had a rejection from The New Yorker. It amused me really as I won't ever get published there. It's just not me. Yet the story I submitted is a good one and a world away from this poem. I suppose I did it almost as a joke, but it's still nice to be validated (I think) even if it was a brief form email that I waited three months for.

There were other rejections and submissions this week. And that's just how it rolls.


Hope you have a nice week.













3 comments:

  1. I always found rugby league so boring so I appreciated your line "Cover your ears, or be gnawed by boars", very much.

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  2. I love it, especially the 'blow job.' Not that I like giving --er, giving my ticket to a football game away. Well, yeah, I do like doing that. I hate football.

    PS I'll email soon. Thanks for your ongoing friendship and support.
    xoRobyn

    ReplyDelete
  3. You really went for the groin with this one!
    Nice writing Anthony...

    ReplyDelete

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