blind beggars
on Ronnie Kray’s funeral
1.
The great madman, trapped
in a headache, whizzed
from weeds pulled out of
the soil’s bunting, a
bouquet of red fire.
Florid petals pour
grotesque painted skulls
and trombones played in
the disjointed songs
of old pearly dears
passing between life
and disfigured death
on the old kettle
creeping boulevard,
the wolves will scent the
mould whitening meat.
Poor crimson petal
covered madman with
his cheap black suited
East End funeral,
the mourners all had
stained glass Chelsea grins.
Yellow skeletons
leer into the hearse
and wither all the
wreaths. The unfound dead
march like soldiers and
raise their heads again
ticked in seaweed cockles
and headlong concrete.
Grant Tarbard has worked as a computer games journalist, a contributor to football fanzines, an editor, a reviewer and an interviewer. He is now the editor of The Screech Owl. His work can be seen in such magazines as The Rialto, The Journal, Southlight, Sarasvati, Earth Love, Mood Swing, Puff Puff Prose Poetry & Prose, Postcards Poetry and Prose, Playerist 2, Lake City Lights, The Open Mouse, Miracle, Poetry Cornwall, I-70, South Florida Review, Zymbol and Decanto.