Four Poems by Brenton Booth

Prayers to a Long Forgotten God

 I want a rose with a thousand flowers,

     a tin cup sailing from sun to moon,

Meryl Streep's millions for crying too 

     much.

 

I want Elvis's blue suede shoes,

     the second row of seats to Lakme

at the Royal Albert Hall,

     the last punch of Kimbo Slice in his

fourth backyard brawl.

 

I want the moon singing freedom,

     the mirror showing what I should see,

a positive intervention from a long

     forgotten god.

 

I want burning days and melting nights,

     women crying for my clumsy touch,

perfect words murdering the whole army

     of death.

 

I want flagpoles with naked smiling deities,

     endless streets of opened doors,

a ship to take me to every single port.

 

I want the rain to play a new sound,

     the orchestra to stop drowning the

floor: 

     your final words to no longer be

the last.

 

Factory

 

There's

an old

abandoned

building

I pass

everyday

on my

way to

work.

The walls

are

crumbling

and roof

gave way

long ago

to all the

birds.

It is

surrounded

by a

barbed

wire fence

(to keep

out the 

homeless)

and new

apartment

buildings.

My father

gave up

the best

years of

his life

to this

building.

Sewing

quality

leather

goods

under

harsh

false

light.

He went

from

athlete to

drunk to

drunken

husband:

with never

enough

money to

handle any

of it.

I often

think about

the old

building

standing

there after

all these

years,

working as

my father

once did;

in a

building

that will

one day

crumble:

but never

disappear.

Two Rooms

We didn't speak

all day today.

Sleeping in

different beds.

With different

sheets.

Different pillows.

Different

dreams. We once

hoped, would

last forever.

Stronger than Suicide

When he

locked

himself 

inside his

house with

a shotgun

in his mouth

threatening

to kill

himself,

or anyone

that tried

to make it 

through

his front

door. The

police

knocked

down his

wall with

an anti-

terrorism

ram. The

first thing

he said

was, "Who's

paying

for this?"

Bio: Brenton Booth lives in Sydney, Australia. Poetry of his has appeared in New York Quarterly, Chiron Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Main Street Rag, Naugatuck River Review, Van Gogh's Ear, and Nerve Cowboy. He has two full length collections available from Epic Rites Press.