RW (02-11-35 to 06-13-2006 / Glasgow, Scotland)

Tribal Markings

No regrets about throwing
Cut-throat razors in the air,
And catching them in my teeth,
Such has been my life-long remedy
For the itch of boredom.

True, the risk is there
To miss, just that once,
And I would have minutes to reflect.
But better bleeding swiftly
As the result of error
Than plodding the safety road
Where the grass is the same colour
On both sides of the dry-stone dyke.

I have the tribal markings
Denoting my creed;
A notch on cheek, and jowl
When I haven't got it quite right,
Where the blade has missed the throat,
But has left it's impression
Nonetheless.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

As boys, did we all do thigs like that, like opening bottles with our teeth... Great poem. Colin J...
Refreshingly superb. Love, Fran xx