Tag Archives: chimneys

The Flatlands (Or The Quiet Death of Gog and Magog).


Could anyone let me know why this particular poem is getting a huge amount of views this week? Please comment and let me know why! I am pleased, but puzzled…

Cheers, Benjamin





To pick your fruit from chimney stacks

Is a quiet, steaming trigger.

The trees are slimming at the waist,

Applying whorish rouges

To their splitting seed pouches.



We stepped on mossy linoleums

To creep, hard-toed onto grass.

The garden is heaving with

Rinds and hammers,

Lubricant and whale-bone.



You scratched your favourite words

In ashes on the pavement.

Like your red-haired friend

Who knew a boy who died, once.

Loss on a martini glass.



The soot-flooded twig still lies there,

A testament to your good times.

I remember you flailing, bound

In hankerchiefs and father’s rule,

Stuck in hilltop houses.



And so, I sat down for breakfast,

Waited for you to descend

With arms piled high with chimney stacks

(Stolen from the more deserving)

On which to chip my teeth.