Hello beasties...
This time I'm going to share with you a few photos from a walk to Brookwood cemetery that I did with Toby over May bank holiday, 04/05/2015 - and then a piece I wrote on my return. It's a slightly macabre story about revenge from beyond the grave. I do hope it won't depress you too much!
Next time I hope to be able to give you a bit more definite news about the POETIQUETTE re-issue or the fourth and final season of THE BEAST OF FRIENDS, including release dates. I also have some trips planned towards the end of the month and at the beginning of June which may or may not influence what I write. That said, I still have my bad leg, so I'm not even sure I'll be taking the trips... Only time will tell! At the moment, as far as writing any new books of poetry and short stories are concerned - once A YETI WAY OF THINKING is published later this year - I am probably going to publish most of my new short pieces of writing on this blog and then collect them together into a book once I feel I have enough new material.
Enjoy the story, it's called LOOKING DOWN ON ME - the first draft was written on the same day as my trip to Brookwood - and then was completed and slightly revised today, Tuesday the 5th May 2015.
More soon! Take care...
Yeti hugs,
Paul xx
LOOKING DOWN ON ME...
There at my funeral; looking down on me...
My friends - my loved ones...
Even one or two people from work -
Who I knew were only there to represent my department...
Being there was nobody's idea of fun; least of all mine.
So, it was nice of them all to come;
So, it was nice of them all to come;
They could have been drinking tea or vacuuming.
But staring at that mound of earth cannot bring me back...
That stone is not me - it is merely my memorial...
That body below ground is just the shell I once called home.
This space is just somewhere for them to place flowers...
Somewhere for them to stand and say the words they needed to say...
Don't think I don't appreciate them...
I do. I really do.
I hear every word - even what Miss Jones from accounts said about me being a bit of a git.
She wasn't wrong, I could be.
After all, I was never the sort of person that people much liked.
I hear every word - even what Miss Jones from accounts said about me being a bit of a git.
She wasn't wrong, I could be.
After all, I was never the sort of person that people much liked.
I could be a bastard; grumpy, cantankerous, stubborn, even unkind...
But I could be generous, occasionally funny - handsome, also modest...
I know some of those at the funeral felt guilty, but they did not kill me...
I can forgive them for not calling...
I can forgive those who had stopped caring...
I can forgive them all for rarely stopping by...
But I won't forgive the one who put me where I am now...
Who never once came to pay his respects...
Too busy making himself out to be the victim of the whole event...
"He just ran out in front of me, officer - I didn't have a chance..."
The man is a liar who cares only for his own situation; serving time for manslaughter.
Too busy making himself out to be the victim of the whole event...
"He just ran out in front of me, officer - I didn't have a chance..."
The man is a liar who cares only for his own situation; serving time for manslaughter.
Others may already have forgiven him on my behalf...
Sat face to face with him and asked for a full confession...
I wonder, when it happened were there crocodile tears?
Or simply a shrug; incoherent muttering.
As so many others who once knew me now find themselves doing...
I need to know if there was more to all this than careless driving...
I have become obsessed with a theory - that all this was planned...
Had I wronged him somehow - done so and not even realised?
Had I stolen the love of his life from under his nose and never known it...
It would make more sense to me to know that it was more than just an accident...
Well, he'll be out soon and I will be waiting...
I have become obsessed with a theory - that all this was planned...
Had I wronged him somehow - done so and not even realised?
Had I stolen the love of his life from under his nose and never known it...
It would make more sense to me to know that it was more than just an accident...
Well, he'll be out soon and I will be waiting...
I will locate him, I will follow him and I will find out the truth...
Then - once I have my answer I will exact my own form of revenge...
I will push him, shove him off the platform edge or cliff-top...
I will push him, shove him off the platform edge or cliff-top...
I will pursue him - find those who hate him and convince them to help me...
Whisper in their ears, "Kill... Kill... Kill him.."
Whisper in their ears, "Kill... Kill... Kill him.."
One day, one of them will listen...
Soon my killer will be killed and then he will know my torture...
Those who remember what he did will look down on his grave and secretly agree...
That the streets are now a safer place without him...
LOOKING DOWN ON ME... and all content of this post are Copyright Paul Chandler, 2015.
