FOUR POEMS by J. ARCHER AVARY
total rhubarb
>>> howdy foxhole partners <<<
tell me, what god are we praying to
so I know what jokes to avoid
tomorrow we put the stars on ice
watch them dance in limbo
until we reach a lowest common denominator
because we all need a distraction
from background outrage blaring constantly
an escape valve for growing outrage
this information superhighway is clogged up
the questions never stop
tell me, who put these people in charge?
I’m sick of the system, sick of politicians
MPs getting fat on the back of subsidised lunch
imposing right-wing think tank agendas
>>> the punditocracy has failed us <<<
a new theory suggests everything is temporary
another theory says nothing matters
because we’re all gonna die
some don’t know what to believe
they turn to religion, or self-medicate
becoming husks of their former personhood
me, i’m a daydream believer
clinging to fairy tales of escape and adventure
scuba frolics on tropical reefs
>>> cattle class package holidays <<<
the traveling public are sea elephants
fighting for the best lounger at the hotel pool
drunk on bottomless piña coladas
nobody wants eternal life
all we want is to die fat and happy
my favourite god claims we can live forever
but the pessimist in me knows
it’s total rhubarb
high in the lemony pines
give me a cabin
high in the lemony pines
where i can eat steak all day
learn the banjo
show me how to whittle
i will make statues of people fucking
sell them to tourists from a roadside shack
i will sustain myself
give me a hot tub
high in the lemony pines
where i can soak my bones in champagne
they say altitude brings clarity
i will play the banjo
between bites of rare steak
i will make a statue of myself fucking
the hole in the ozone layer
<<< it will be my best seller >>>
i will ride out the next pandemic
high in the lemony pines
soaking my bones in the hot tub
the water will sustain me
tales of near death
i will bore this
and future generations
with tellings & boisterous retellings
i will shout it from the water tower
atop the beech-nut building
tales of near-death
tales of our esteemed hero
who avoided crushing his testicles by an inch
when the ground disappeared
vivid depictions of plummy black bruises
how they spread my thigh like blackcurrant jam
< eventually yellowing >
the stumbling tumble
that sent our esteemed hero face-planting
into the the hot tub edge
it knocked him out
he splashed into scalding water
terrycloth bathrobe soaked
< he could’ve drowned >
but the best part
is how our esteemed hero
didn’t spilled his drink
cactus daddy
i am the cactus daddy
i keep my family in the window
o, how they thrive
this particular spot has a good angle
it gets more sunlight than you’d expect
especially in the morning
when i mist them
what is surprising
is how each cactus has its own personality
that’s probably just me
‘projecting' my humanity
onto the cacti
which is unsurprising
it’s human nature to seek connections
i am the cactus daddy
i keep the family together in the window
talk to them, watch them grow
in many ways, i’m more
a father to them than my actual children
which means I am also
kind of a prick
J. Archer Avary is a former TV weatherman. He farms cactuses in the windowsill where he writes poems and stories. He wants to finish a novel one day but lacks focus. Sometimes he goes to hot yoga, but most of the time he makes excuses not to. He was born in the USA and now lives in the Northeast of England. Twitter: @j_archer_avary.