Smoking with Crohn's
eBook - ePub
Available until 23 Dec |Learn more

Smoking with Crohn's

  1. 128 pages
  2. English
  3. ePUB (mobile friendly)
  4. Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
Available until 23 Dec |Learn more

Smoking with Crohn's

About this book

In 2002, as an alternative means of therapy to excessive drinking and jay-walking in South London traffic, I started writing. At first I kept a journal, noting daily observations and recording a satirical account of my wry and positively cynical views of society and my place within it. A year and two very short stories later, I had discovered my passion for words and particularly poetry. Poems, after all, in my humble opinion, are even shorter short stories… and I'm quite lazy.

My priority has always been to make my writing simple and accessible whilst I lightheartedly describe my experiences of living with Crohn's disease and the endless battles I have with myself as I drift in and out of minimum wage jobs and hospital.

As much on page as on stage, my appeal tends to be to a broader audience, including those who may not consider themselves poetically inclined. Flailing around in the pits of illiteracy, I make up my own words and often misspell or poorly punctuate those that are already in existence. But, with the clichƩd excuse of 'poetic license', I continue to scrawl.

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Yes, you can access Smoking with Crohn's by George Chopping in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & European Poetry. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.

Information

Publisher
Unbound
Year
2012
Print ISBN
9781908717306
eBook ISBN
9781908717320
A Narrow Boat, Some Big Birds and a Few Fish
An Ode and Apology To The Swan
This morning
the river’s rough ripplings means
that the swans
are surfing past the boat
and the bottoms of banks
where
the mallards rest
with their reversible heads
beaks
embedded in feathers.
Oh Swan, Swan, Swan, Swan
Swan, Swan, Swan
my Swanny, Swanny, Swan, Swan.
Son
of another swan
I’d imag-ion*
I could never eat one.
Not just ā€˜cause it’s illegal
I’d just much rather feed you
with the crumbs from my breadboard.
Last night I saw you soar
and ski for many metres
Like
Eddie The Eagle
No. I didn’t say seagull
Because I know you’re more refined
than those scavenging seaside swines
Oh! I love it when you dine.
Stalking the shoals
that dart below
the surface.
Your brontosaurus neck
nearly reaching river bed
and your
quill clad behind
waggling as you dine
dancing in the air
like at the Folies BergƩre
Oh Yeah!
Sometimes you like brill
other times bream.
Although, occasionally trout
or, whatever’s about
You’re not fussy.
That’s one of the things I love about you, Swanny
[this next section should be read in a Heavy Metal style,
just like in a lot of poems]
’Cause you’re a proppellerless, porcelain, marshmallow-winged,
passengerless pedalo
a destinationless leisure craft
playing Chicken in the path
of the bow of my barge
He likes a bit of brill
but he never wears a trilby
He’s got a coat of quills
so a biro, he’ll never be
But one time, Swanny
when we were all moored up
the kettle had whistled
I’d got my cup
and I was sat
smoking on the back of the boat.
And you looked at me
so sternly#
Because I had tapped
off the ash
onto your beak.
Accidentally,
obviously.
I’m sorry, Swanny.
I was thinking more of the other verses at the time, but hopefully you won’t notice that this bit isn’t as strong as the first, third and fourth verses.
The back of boat is called the stern, which is why this is so funny.
Nature’s Noise Pollution
Towards the bridge the canoeist headed
paddling and listening to Vivaldi’s
Four Seasons through the headphones
of his personal stereo
Anything to drown out
the eternal din
of nature’s waterlife orchestra
Lithuanian Park Warden
In St. James’s Park
sat on the path, not on the bench
because it’s caked in bird excrement.
Gazing at the pond and talking to the ducks
wondering why they don’t respond
I laugh at them as I throw at their heads
handfuls of bread crumbs.
I talk to the swans. They also don’t talk back
but I don’t laugh at them.
I shout at the squirrels
a badger
then a beaver.
This conversation’s very hard
as none of the above will respond in English either.
Along comes the park warden.
He said something to me.
I just sat there and quacked.
I don’t understand Lithuanian.
Love Knot
I love wood
wood
is good
I have a wood obsession.
What ever the tree may be
it could
be wood
for me.
Proud erections in the bland flat fields
Monuments for meadows
Statues amongst pylons
Nature’s brother to the lamp post
They be my shelters from the rain
the rubber that erases
the paper of these pages
Wonderful, wonderful wood
I’m not a monogamist
I’m a mahoganist
So tears come to my eyes
each time a tree dies.
Should we anaesthetise
before
you are felled to the floor
and the surgeon saws
you into choppable bits?
I see your rings
they show your aging
I find your bark
really engaging
But now, darling
without pine-ing
I’m swinging, I’m a swinger
of the axe
hitting to split into the centre
of seismic ri...

Table of contents

  1. Cover
  2. Letter from Unbound
  3. Smoking With Crohns
  4. Smoking With Crohn's
  5. Smoking With Crohns
  6. Smoking With Crohn's
  7. Smoking With Crohns
  8. Smoking With Crohns
  9. Smoking With Crohns
  10. Smoking With Crohns
  11. Smoking With Crohns
  12. Smoking With Crohns
  13. Unrequired Reading.xhtml