Saturday, November 23, 2024

Bankside

Scurrying like bugs and dope fiends,

virile enough for a throat to cut.

Lunging, darting,

wriggling crowd.

 

A cenotaph of civility,

“I thought you had him this weekend Paul.”

Shift blame like bags in hands.

“Free up those claws for trinkets, kids!”

 

Locusts, sick on gorged fields,

writhing ripples of foam at the mouth.

 

Engorged wraiths spewing billowing sheets of bills,

blowing in the wind,

snorting up all the good blow,

jagged and terse

“We thought you was cool man,”

a face full of veins and teeth.

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Nick Laugher
Nick Laugher
Never profiting from the pithy pitfalls or pedantic antics of the common journalist, Nick "Noose Papermen" Laugher has continuously baffled readers by demonstrating a rare understanding of the vagaries of our current cultural climate. Rumored to have been conceived and raised in the nook of a knotty pine somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, Laugher was forced to abandon his true calling (pottery) after having one night experienced a vision in which a wise and generous hawk appeared to him through the shimmering static of his television set. The apparition spoke to Laugher of an aching need for some new kind of media perspective, one that elegantly incorporated esoteric vocabulary, gratuitous alliteration and penetrating pun-manship. And so it was. And so it is. And so it always will be.
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