John Cooper Clarke – Voices

Another early poem from Clarkey.
We’ve previously posted his poetry from Voices here and here.
This is from issue 6, 1976.

TO A NAMELESS JOE

like a nightclub in the morning
you are the bitter end like a freshly harpic’ d bathroom
you’re clean round the bend
you .give me the horrors
you put me in the poo
all of my tomorrows
are black because of you

like a death at a birthday party
you ruin all the fun
like a sucked and spat out smartie
your usefulness is done
like the shadow of the gallows
bad noose as I would say
bad blood marks the sidewalk
as you go your wicked way

you put the shat in spatter
you put the pain in spain
you’re mad as a bleedin’ ‘atter
you’re so lethargic you’re lame
your very presence in my view
is an outrage on the eye
a motion picture reminds me of you
each dawn I die

You went to a progressive psychiatrist
who recommended suicide
before scratching your bad name off his list
and pointing the way outside

the day god spat you on the stack
was the last day of laughter
you crawled you walked you jumped on backs
lived apathy ever after

John Cooper Clarke

COVER12

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