How to Fake an Eye Smile, and other poems
Shane Dallesandro
Copyright 2012 Shane Dallesandro
Smashwords Edition
For Daddy; who I hope won’t be reading this.
Thank you to my publisher, bestselling Smashwords author Adam Croft and to Stephen, Alex, Rupert, Hester and Timmy.
How to Fake an Eye Smile
How to fake an eye smile, or a study in being charming.
It's not so hard, I shall guide you, but first you
must have love in your soul, that is something
you cannot act.
Stuff your love into your soul, ram it all in tight.
It's in the vicinity of your diaphragm if you are
too world weary to find it.
Soul filled, look into the eyes of somebody pleasing, or in a group look as a portrait does,
use your perspective.
Open your lips so slightly with the tiniest
movement, flush them with blood.
Push your eyes up, don't look up, a mere pulse, again it's slight, turn
the corners of your mouth up, just the corners,
If your eyes don't shine,
Your soul is leaking,
you must first find more pleasing company.
On the Renovation of a Hero’s Tomb
You've been dead over one hundred years
They've had to protect your grave
Kissing it proved what people too numerous crave
The lipstick corrosive added to expert fears
That if kept up could desecrate your tomb with its smears.
Destroyed by kisses of those who your words enslave
Admirers of your suffering and murdered heart brave,
Better than when people hated us queers.
It was they who shunned you, they who spat
Few stuck by you, a handful only remaining strong
Most people found your love mortally, terribly wrong
Seems maddening that back then they thought like that
So now instead people gathering must kiss another among the throng
Love lives on forever in such grand deeds, hate you taught us cannot last long.
Pins
There's pins to pin things in and to pin others out
There's that man who pushed them in his bits that I've read about
There are pins for hats and kilts and those
pins that punks wore through the nose
Nappy pins since we're in the past
Pins for maps to show where we holidayed last
Pins to pin on donkeys tails
Pins bought with pin money in the sales
There are even pins with ribbon for AIDS
Charity pins come in varying shades
There's the poppy pin that pops right off
And on your shirt collars if you're a bit of a toff
There's pins in with needles for a stiff limb
Pin pricks that might sting a bit to make you feel vim
Pins on badges favoured by Peter Blake
Pins to pin up details of loved ones lost in a quake
There's drawing pins to stick up posters
And lunch menus and cleaning rosters
Pins on rosettes to win the election
Pins on lips to quieten insurrection
There's the useful pin that lives in the blu-tak
But I'm still thinking of the guy and the pins in his nutsack.
Mrs de Leger is an independent listener.
Mrs de Leger is an independent listener and will advise you outside the hierarchy.
Mr Eddie Botts is a recommended taxi service.
Mrs Maguire will show you how the tumble dryers work.
The doctor, an R. Leopold, to be discovered between 1.30 and 2.
Under no circumstances are unwell boys to remain in their beds.
Paul Gunn is houseman and don't let him catch you.
Joy, Regina and Mary are the cleaners; blessed be their names.
Mrs Delve deals with admissions. You'll never find her but you'll like her daughter.
Visiting tutors Fyfe, Stanley and Williams.
Housemaster Mr. Hennley will have a word in his study.
A rice cooker is provided for boys on the ground floor.
Reverend Green, Chaplain, to be sought for matters High Church.
For Low Church, see noticeboard.
Playing Football in November
Evening footer matches
cold floodlight knees
warmed from afar
by the breath of the faithful
if you play well
their cheers caress your now
hot straining muscles.
If you play badly
disappointment
burns fiercely.
A roar of primal joy
buffets you even from
a scuffed ankle in a tight tackle
a hiss of disgust
leaves your core as dust.
The Interview
A place of corridors this
linear, ecclesiastically clinical
a monk might swish past but he
doesn't. Time goes slowly.
These passageways are
tangents too to get lost upon
leading to a maze of muttering sorry failure.
Heart beats quickly.
See them instead as roads
ones you've walked already
ones you will soon walk
with a familiar air of hard earned success.