Two Chefs Fight.
Both of them were
built like juggernauts
and when one of them
mentioned a burnt dish –
boiling point was reached
and they started
swinging for each other –
knocking pots, pans
and plates everywhere.
I wasn’t sure what to do –
so I just watched them.
And when one of them
hit the hard kitchen floor –
they stopped,
As I swept up their mess,
ready to smooth more
sharp shards of the world’s broken dreams into poetry.
This is Punk.
It wasn’t,
the raised fist,
or finger –
it was the way
it allowed people
to healthily raise
questions of this failing
capitalist wet dream
in a way that could
beautifully
glimmer back,
like the barrel of a gun
in authority’s ugly
little face.
Come on Now.
There is enough,
without the blood
soaked revenge,
without the downfall,
without love,
without sex,
without
the comeback tour,
without praise,
without success,
without selfie sticks.
There is enough
amazement
and beauty
for a life lived,
simply in fields
of sunflowers
swaying in a breeze,
in a stranger’s smile,
or a dog pissing
against a lamppost,
in the early
morning sun.
Gwil James Thomas is a poet, novelist and inept musician. He lives in his home town of Bristol, England but has also lived in London, Brighton and Spain. His twelfth chapbook of poetry Wild River Carry me to Sea is forthcoming from Back Room Poetry. He has recently been published in Viper’s Tongue, DFL Lit, The Songs From The Underground anthology, Paper & Ink and Late Britain Zine. He plans to one day build a house, amongst other things. Instagram: @gwiljamesthomas
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