Submissions by The_Silly_Sibyl (Jack Thomas)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I've written about religious, historical, and philosophical subjects, because I find systems of belief and existentialism interesting. But I've also written a lot about stuff like The Jerry Springer Show, slasher films, and junk food.
Ghost Story
Memory infects the trees.
God’s mortar stains and what was once
pleasantly green, Jerusalem
in patchwork fields, becomes a yard
of ghosts hidden behind each oak
or thistle, rock or chalk.
Haunted England bows to you and yours,
created as it is by human eyes and hands.
The world is our design, and if the cries
of owls fetch forth an impression
of life pulled in to outer time,
those phantoms may as well be.
Fear and need make of our deaths a crime,
so shades are seen from land to naked lee.
God’s mortar stains and what was once
pleasantly green, Jerusalem
in patchwork fields, becomes a yard
of ghosts hidden behind each oak
or thistle, rock or chalk.
Haunted England bows to you and yours,
created as it is by human eyes and hands.
The world is our design, and if the cries
of owls fetch forth an impression
of life pulled in to outer time,
those phantoms may as well be.
Fear and need make of our deaths a crime,
so shades are seen from land to naked lee.
#atheism
#religion
#spiritual
#mythology
#pagan
338 reads
4 Comments
Sermon on the Destruction of Images
first written and shared in 2015
"... for five hundred years, during which religion was in a more prosperous condition, and a purer doctrine flourished, Christian churches were completely free from visible representations" - John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion
From Eve in vines about her legs
Like fetters forged in Paradise,
To saintly men in grief reposed,
We see the brass bull teem with lice.
The Christ Himself a sack of rice,
Held in his mother's drooping arms,
Will grease your eyes in Roman homes.
God is...
"... for five hundred years, during which religion was in a more prosperous condition, and a purer doctrine flourished, Christian churches were completely free from visible representations" - John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion
From Eve in vines about her legs
Like fetters forged in Paradise,
To saintly men in grief reposed,
We see the brass bull teem with lice.
The Christ Himself a sack of rice,
Held in his mother's drooping arms,
Will grease your eyes in Roman homes.
God is...
#religion
#spiritual
300 reads
4 Comments
Colston’s Fate
Today I learnt of Edward Colston’s fate,
the statue posed with hand on chin
and one knee bent, as if the old man
holding dear
the city his philanthropy
benefitted long ago,
knew his seat in history
would always be a golden throne.
He’s now been toppled in protest
of what brought in and broke his bread:
the legions of the stolen dead,
traded like meat, and salt, and lead.
The apologists, of course,
came out in flippancy,
arguing that ages pass
and make of crimes a frippery.
Why should we judge our...
the statue posed with hand on chin
and one knee bent, as if the old man
holding dear
the city his philanthropy
benefitted long ago,
knew his seat in history
would always be a golden throne.
He’s now been toppled in protest
of what brought in and broke his bread:
the legions of the stolen dead,
traded like meat, and salt, and lead.
The apologists, of course,
came out in flippancy,
arguing that ages pass
and make of crimes a frippery.
Why should we judge our...
#racism
504 reads
5 Comments
Burke and Blades in: A Painful Rebirth
Inspector Blades surveyed the tea room. Detective Burke, meanwhile, surveyed the cat-heads and follow-me-lads of a tea girl, Shilly, named no doubt for her failure of decision. 'Well, erm, it's like this, Mr Burke... or is it? Oh dear, I wish I knew...' At least she wasn't hysterical, Burke thought. Goodness, he and Blades were shallying worse than Shilly. 'That's all well and good, Miss' he said, 'but I ain't asking much now, am I? All I want to know is, did you see the professor 'aving a collie shangles with the meater or not?'
'Well, yes, I did. He called 'im a mutton...
'Well, yes, I did. He called 'im a mutton...
#funny
345 reads
1 Comment
Time Travel in the Victorian Age
The two detectives put off their delicate duty with what can only be described as a vulgar bashfulness. They perched on Lady Beckinsall's chaise longue like shaggy dogs confused by their sudden allowance on the furniture. The Lady herself was paused in her afternoon tea, with bated cup, and growing impatient. Sensing this, the more working-class of the two detectives, Burke, decided to exploit his social privilege by coming straight to the point. 'Well, ma'am, it's like this, you see... your fella, the good Lord Beckinsall, is currently, ahem, at 'er Majesty's pleasure after being caught -...
#funny
342 reads
6 Comments
Fragment Based on a News Story
A young Israeli found a pocket-sized tablet
depicting the torture by a Canaanite guard
of his captive, a chap with hands tied
behind his back, naked and frail as earliest man.
In the desert, near the Gaza strip,
this little tableaux and monument of Pain,
that oldest and most feared of Gods,
was plucked by child's hands
like the current generation's inheritance
of what's been passed on
since we first saw ourselves
and consciousness was born.
Source of picture: "EMIL ALADJEM/ISRAEL ANTIQUITIES", published at...
depicting the torture by a Canaanite guard
of his captive, a chap with hands tied
behind his back, naked and frail as earliest man.
In the desert, near the Gaza strip,
this little tableaux and monument of Pain,
that oldest and most feared of Gods,
was plucked by child's hands
like the current generation's inheritance
of what's been passed on
since we first saw ourselves
and consciousness was born.
Source of picture: "EMIL ALADJEM/ISRAEL ANTIQUITIES", published at...
#humankind
353 reads
3 Comments
melancholic summer
I cannot fathom
all my loneliness
park bench sitting in the shade
beneath a long-limbed tree
outside the train station
several trees dotted about a field
slanting down towards a street
dividing it from the one above
bus trundling to stop outside
a large supermarket
and picking up a man
with carrier bags full of booze
the images flit by
on a bright summer’s day
where all is lovely and serene
even the mumbling drunk
on the afternoon bus
and yet I slog through
stomach-turning...
all my loneliness
park bench sitting in the shade
beneath a long-limbed tree
outside the train station
several trees dotted about a field
slanting down towards a street
dividing it from the one above
bus trundling to stop outside
a large supermarket
and picking up a man
with carrier bags full of booze
the images flit by
on a bright summer’s day
where all is lovely and serene
even the mumbling drunk
on the afternoon bus
and yet I slog through
stomach-turning...
#despair
#FeelingLost
#emptiness
#emotional
#bittersweet
381 reads
3 Comments
Walking the Streets at Night
Walked home via Aldwych. Reflected that nothing really changes. I’m still walking about this city dragging my loneliness with me, putting on a front, whistling in the dark. It is getting darker all the time.” - The Kenneth Williams Diaries
Walking the streets at night,
I look at windows overlooking alleyways
and tangled gardens long since given up,
and picture myself inside those rooms
just outside the dangerous corner of pitch,
where anything might be lurking.
I’d never tell my grandmother,
who once freaked out
when I said that...
Walking the streets at night,
I look at windows overlooking alleyways
and tangled gardens long since given up,
and picture myself inside those rooms
just outside the dangerous corner of pitch,
where anything might be lurking.
I’d never tell my grandmother,
who once freaked out
when I said that...
#loneliness
#despair
#emptiness #bittersweet
#emptiness #bittersweet
345 reads
2 Comments
villain
when i was a kid i didn't dream of being james bond
or the rock star drowning in girls and good times
i wanted to be blofeld with his fat white cat
poisoned stiletto in my shoe
and a desk studded with buttons opening chutes to hell
beneath my minion's chairs
i didn't dream of doing manly deeds
like healthy boys do
dawdling in comic books
where costumed men
fight maniacs in colourful spandex
i read my mother's true crime books
about britain's most horrifying crooks
the handsome devils unsatisfied by...
or the rock star drowning in girls and good times
i wanted to be blofeld with his fat white cat
poisoned stiletto in my shoe
and a desk studded with buttons opening chutes to hell
beneath my minion's chairs
i didn't dream of doing manly deeds
like healthy boys do
dawdling in comic books
where costumed men
fight maniacs in colourful spandex
i read my mother's true crime books
about britain's most horrifying crooks
the handsome devils unsatisfied by...
#evil
375 reads
3 Comments
1965
1
The ‘60s postmark rots away
and I’m left in the latter day
so many years distant from you.
The pain of love was one I didn’t feel
before I turned thirty,
and happened to be walking home
from office work one day.
I wrote sports and you drove cars
outside the town’s hotspot.
Deemed too ugly for anyone’s girl
to be swept off her feet -
missing teeth, a bulbous brow,
and gaze forever glum -
the studs all felt secure,
pulling up beside
the valet in his cheap red coat.
But even if you...
The ‘60s postmark rots away
and I’m left in the latter day
so many years distant from you.
The pain of love was one I didn’t feel
before I turned thirty,
and happened to be walking home
from office work one day.
I wrote sports and you drove cars
outside the town’s hotspot.
Deemed too ugly for anyone’s girl
to be swept off her feet -
missing teeth, a bulbous brow,
and gaze forever glum -
the studs all felt secure,
pulling up beside
the valet in his cheap red coat.
But even if you...
#LGBT
384 reads
7 Comments
surviving lament
1
maybe sensitivity's
disease in certain minds
the willingness to see
gilded profundity
in blue fog on a morn passing
beside a train window
everything beautiful's also sad
in the right (or the wrong) sort of brain
and while nursing my tic for the melancholic
I can say that I'm bored
of that type of pain
when all that you get is another big step
towards middle-age and low insulin
the crisp orange rind on a sunset begets
resentment alongside the hurt
2
for all...
maybe sensitivity's
disease in certain minds
the willingness to see
gilded profundity
in blue fog on a morn passing
beside a train window
everything beautiful's also sad
in the right (or the wrong) sort of brain
and while nursing my tic for the melancholic
I can say that I'm bored
of that type of pain
when all that you get is another big step
towards middle-age and low insulin
the crisp orange rind on a sunset begets
resentment alongside the hurt
2
for all...
#depression
334 reads
3 Comments
Eulogy for a Pet
We named her Belladonna and
she died a grand old eighteen years.
A catlike silhouetted tear
revealing twilight’s firmament,
her shifting shades of brown were fair
and nightly all at once, a tapestry
too rich to earn her status as the runt.
Her older sister Smokey died
when Bella was still shy of ten,
and life without her grey sibling
unscrewed her mind, already loose, somewhat.
I like to think we kept her barely sane.
she died a grand old eighteen years.
A catlike silhouetted tear
revealing twilight’s firmament,
her shifting shades of brown were fair
and nightly all at once, a tapestry
too rich to earn her status as the runt.
Her older sister Smokey died
when Bella was still shy of ten,
and life without her grey sibling
unscrewed her mind, already loose, somewhat.
I like to think we kept her barely sane.
#cats
335 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by The_Silly_Sibyl (Jack Thomas)