six poems by adam j maynard


A pink cloud hung above
A modernist house in the woods
We had been smoking reefer
With a goblin in a cave
I had a degree in art
We really wasted a lot of time
You managed to upset
Even the biggest mountains
I got my city knickers in a twist
About the London property bubble
We were normally on the same page
It was so easy to get hooked
On this kind of thing, that kind of thing
Cops dancing in underground mansions
Ghosts playing drum kits
In the back of pick up trucks
We were high nearly all the time
Clouds shone wonderfully
We were on the same page
Watching the palm trees laughing
Inside the London property bubble
Better dancers were made of
Something perfectly flawless
You were always just leaving
Black Cliffs of Dover

The strawberries were there
Smoking cigarettes and laughing
An idiot with a flashlight
Was running around the garden
I was an ancient arrowhead
Flying through the nite
Who had recently decorated
The walls of my cave
With new sensibilities
Does anyone know what’s wrong
With the rain in any way?
A rabbit plays a synthesizer
On a rock outside my cave
I’m turning in to Jennifer
Shivering inside the cave
A pineapple drives by in a Hummer
Nearly knocking over two smurfs
Who are carrying a green sofa
Everyone is full of yet more
Fantasy gamers than ever
So I relent
I decide to let Goblin lick my ass out
Mick Jagger Hates Marmite

Oh, the queen of insistent nagging
Is here in the room with me again
She says, ‘That’s how you grip a ball’
A wolf strolls through the dining hall
The wolf has the face of Mick Jagger
Its lips are dribbling all over the floor
It says something like, ‘You downloaded
The Kim Kardashian sex tapes like
Twelve times already’
Somewhere in its head
There exists a glittering road

A midget on a pony
In a lime green mankini
Holds an AK-47
I’m the sugar plum fairy
Performing Bunuel tricks
I’ve never known a day
I got fucked up
Smoking a bong with a lion
Sometimes I’m a triangle
Sometimes I’m a rectangle
Sometimes I even sleep in a tree
I live inside a hollowed out bumble bee
And to be truthful I cry at christmas
I find Christmas drinks
Wonderfully, wonderfully frustrating
Ass Goblins

I’m off to Hollywood,
Where the worms drink Cognac like water
A raccoon is drinking absinthe
Outside the butchers
I very much look forward
To smashing your face to pieces
A pelican in an apron says,
‘I remember seeing you,
but I haven’t ever seen you’
The sky is very blue today
I wish somebody efficient
Would just throw me
In a giant gleaming trash can
Daddy (2)

All the poison gas rises from us
A girl in a red dress is smoking a cigar
You’re thinking like a man in love
Such a pussy all the time
Tom Hanks appears in a Garfield mask
A snake is tripping with him
Now I walk through the now
Then I walked through the then

Daddy has the blues
Cramming his face with bright green vitamins
Garfield drives by in a Range Rover
Which makes him cry really hard for days

I don’t know why I have inspired a generation

Oh, how I tire of all the inappropriate
And endlessly sarcastic diatribes
Wasps cutting their hair really frighten me

This place is the capital of depravity
And yet it has no meaning
But I mean, what can you really do?
Adam J Maynard lives in Oxford (UK). His work has appeared in Lamination Colony, Robot Melon, Pineapplewar, Spooky Boyfriend, New Wave Vomit, Zembla, Purple, Kill Author, Abraham Lincoln, Lit, Noo Journal, Housefire, The Corduroy Mtn, Pangur Ban Party, West Wind Review and others. His book of short fiction Stumble was published by Pulp Books. He edits the short fiction/ poetry site My Name is Mud. A book of his poems, Green, has been published by My Name is Mud Books.