A poem by Carys Watt
All a bag of hate, a thumb of love
Amethyst crumble, in the glove,
I want to go somewhere
Where I can make the adolescent blare,
Take the care, and shove it.
Take it in a bit.
I’ll take whatever hand makes me sing,
Loop the crystals through the sling –
Get with the knit
And the sour teenage blitz,
Waiting, waiting for the Godot in vain,
Boredom, boredom, vacant in vain.
Blubber girl, in the worldly oracle,
Kart-wheeling down cynical auricle –
I always wanted to do that,
But instead I just grabbed the hat,
And got praised for it –
Waiting for the pieces and the bit.
Immediate, immediate, I wanted to be
Part of the Buffalo spree
But I’m not like that now,
Can I look at how?
I could be like that before,
In the foreground of the yore.
Amethyst crumble, in the glove,
I want to go somewhere
Where I can make the adolescent blare,
Take the care, and shove it.
Take it in a bit.
I’ll take whatever hand makes me sing,
Loop the crystals through the sling –
Get with the knit
And the sour teenage blitz,
Waiting, waiting for the Godot in vain,
Boredom, boredom, vacant in vain.
Blubber girl, in the worldly oracle,
Kart-wheeling down cynical auricle –
I always wanted to do that,
But instead I just grabbed the hat,
And got praised for it –
Waiting for the pieces and the bit.
Immediate, immediate, I wanted to be
Part of the Buffalo spree
But I’m not like that now,
Can I look at how?
I could be like that before,
In the foreground of the yore.