by Philippe Atherton-Blenkiron
“Pigs […] are leading pretty miserable lives.” – Peter Singer
I exist under a pink sky;
a canopy of blankets lined with caricature,
stitched-up with greed and mud. A veil that paints me
a harlequin fool – nose pressed hard against the glass.
Staring through quasi-human eyes
in search of silver linings. My skies
are cloudless, by the way – if I’d the chance to look.
And look, no pot of gold either (or pearls for that matter)
ruddy with ombre spectrum. But, in my head,
I speak of a blue, and of the vivid grass’ hue,
in your child’s voice.
Hu-weeh, these Romantic words make nothing
but a proverbial “ear” of my cause.
(And French doesn’t help, with its nicknames.)
So give it to me Saxon, man. Call me sweeeen.
Give me shit! But don’t expect me to be happy.
Philippe Atherton-Blenkiron holds an MA in Creative Writing from Keele University, and is one-third of the editorial Triumvirate at the TheBeesAreDead.com. His debut collection The Pustoy – a dystopian novella in verse – was published by Dagda Publishing in 2014, and his other work can be found squatting in a collection of online and print publications. He works in education, maintains a vegan diet, and is heavily involved in music – playing various instruments in both metal and folk bands.
