Peril
A much-loved cliché
from scratchy two-reelers
of the silent era:
the villain (moustache
extravagantly twirled)
ties the girl to the tracks,
gloats as the express
(gouts of smoke, cow-
catcher prominent) comes
hurtling nearer and nearer.
Fumes as the hero (clean
cut, good teeth) pulls off
the last minute appearance,
doles out the justified
smack in the mouth, gets
the girl and doesn’t even
delay the express. Now
imagine yourself
as the damsel in distress.
The railroad tracks
are your mortgage
and your student debt,
the length of rope
the job you’re told
you’re lucky to have;
the train is the bank
and its carriages are full
of the fat and odious cigars
of those who are fatter
and more odious still.
The villain? He’s president,
prime minister, royalty
and clergy; he’s there
in the bushes, lurking, excited,
his caprophagous grin
untroubled by a justified fist.
Snake Oil
All governments
are lying cocksuckers. – BILL HICKS
All governments are salesmen,
all governments have sample cases
full of snake oil and scotch mist.
All governments are telesales callers,
all governments want to keep you on the line
while they take your details, run a few checks.
All governments are door-knockers,
all governments shove their shiny shoes
between door and jamb. Or use a battering ram.
All governments are a red dot, a telescopic lens,
all governments are the man behind the man,
the voice in the earpiece that gives the order.
Neil Fulwood was born in Nottingham, UK, in 1972. He's the
author of film studies book The Films of Sam Peckinpah. His poetry has appeared
in The Morning Star, Art Decades, The Blue Hour, The Ofi Press, Section 8 and
Rat's Ass Review. Neil is married, holds down a day job and subsidizes several
real ale pubs. He enjoys cinema, a wide variety of music, and making abusive
comments about the government on social media.
