Posted: May 16, 2013 in Fiction, Poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

Bar-ward Ho!


Sometimes it is the Battlecry!

other times it is the retreat.

It does not fix problems

in fact it often creates them

or makes existing ones worse.

Yet, the service it provides,

the sanctuary and warmth

in this often cold, grey

assembly-line world

is worth every hangover




© Paul Tristram 2013

I Can’t Man, I’ve Got A Conscience


“The answer is a big, fat No!

I want absolutely no part of it.

It’s not my thing, not my style,

not my way.

I’ve seen enough prison

and I’m only just starting

to sleep properly

in like…FOREVER!

I’m not jeopardizing my sanity,

freedom & marriage

over attitude & bullshit!

Go and speak to someone else.”



© Paul Tristram 2013

They Jail People Like Me


They lock us up in towers,

down in damp dungeons

or on islands miles out to sea.

Because we ask questions,







and don’t always do what we’re told.

We listen to commonsense instead of leaders,

learn from our own mistakes,

we are not perfect and do not wish to be.

We are not always right and that’s just fine.

But we are REAL!

and that’s what matters

in this constant assembly-line

of cardboard cut-outs.

We are the Van Gogh splash of Yellow

across the Daily Factory Grey.


© Paul Tristram 2013

If I Knew You Were Coming…..I’d Have Poisoned The Cake!


Your surprise visits upset me

but my wife feels sorry for you.

Your insecurity is offensive


“Paul doesn’t like me, does he?

What have I done to upset him?”


“It’s not like that, he’s a writer,

he’s not interested in gossip

and he likes being by himself!”

Explains my wife tactfully.


This is my fucking house

and I’m stood out in the back garden

smoking a cigarette with the dog.


“She’ll be here another 3 fucking hours,

you just watch!”

I mutter to the dog.

Then opening up the shed door

we both take refuge inside

where I have a 12 pack of tall

‘Old Speckled Hen’ beer cans.

An electric light,

3 bags of beef hula hoops,

this notebook and pen,

a baseball bat and a sword

and a unread copy of

George Orwell’s

‘Down And Out In Paris

And London.’

Thank fuck I’m getting more prepared

for your little surprise visits.


© Paul Tristram 2013

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