Buzz Phrase

Down on your luck
or, as they say, "financially embarrassed" ...
with little in the way of hope,
less palaver    -
drifting in & out of theme parks not unlike
El Paso, Prairie Junction
between jobs, causes and wives...

letting "it all hang out", in the jumble of the moranese
letting despair and the pig iron law of economics
have their say    -
shouting "moral support" in the face of the rocky
"well-wisher".

I read all the plots and each ends up as a grave...
once in a single afternoon I even gave up on
golddiggers
who, though just passing through meant dress rehearsal
for the bigger jive, "longterm"
and since when should "patching up and catching up"
make starry-eyed even that slip of a girl, commitment.

Paul Cameron Brown

Paul Cameron Brown is a Canadian poet known for his extensive work in both poetry and art criticism. Born in western Canada, Brown has had a prolific career in writing, often intertwining themes of human experience and nature. His works have been showcased in various literary magazines and anthologies. With a style that is both reflective and evocative, he has gained recognition not only in Canada but also internationally.

Paul Cameron Brown

Chopsticks

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Slaughterhouse

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Homuncular Forms

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Ending Up

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Water Fast (The Pearl Fishers)

    Shopping in their heads
    - a man a pair of shoes
    right colour (tan, off-white) shape -
    only good physiques need apply,
    degree, tall;
    self-confidence a "must".

    Not yuppie, really,
    more consumerism as in
    I made the grade (she really
    thinks this; meanwhile, she's
    plump, dull).

    Standing in the showroom window,
    she spies the mirror image of herself.
    Your attitude is your altitude.
    Of course, he's "polished"
    (tho' not worn), urbane
    witty - this goes without saying.
    Well-travelled, maybe, though potential
    liability, here, suggestive of footloose.
    Restless. Perhaps given over to bouts
    of hedonism - a dangerous portent.

    Feel I've stumbled ba...

Paul Cameron Brown

Twillingate

    We all end up badly and
    it's not the season nor the salt
    rather, I suspect but type of gherkin used.

    We all end, badly, at least
    the more modest of us do.
    the old salts they dine on
    limericks anyways.

    We all end up, sadly, the distances
    and the wiles only last up,
    sideways, and barely with
    the edge-ways of a smile.

    Some of us, sadly,
    limit our losses
    call off the posse
    quit deals, the
    quicksilver steals.

    Some of us, gladly,
    surrender or catch
    a slow boat to Twillingate,
    if not willingly,
    at least painstakingly.

Paul Cameron Brown

Gangland

    A sailor, "tatoo you,"
    the cigarette Players
    with tape-deck playing
    a jaundiced "Yellow Bird",
    Cerveza, Dos Equiis, the
    two horses, in red flame,
    across the label.

    Trolling in a deep sea-trench
    (spinners and chubb),
    the dark night
    a religious procession,
    acolyte stars in hymnal to the wind.

    Across the channel
    a Party Boat
    - the words almost demand capitals
    with actions so diminutive -
    creased laughter "to go" cross the waves
    flicker of lights, siren call
    then a lemon shark strikes the bait
    on anchor reel, Horse-Eyed Jack
    perhaps borrowing the name
    from the Outback -
    think pantomime, enter Wahoo
    and the aesthetic of fear...

Paul Cameron Brown

Chain Letter

    I'm sitting in a "sixties bar." No put-on.
    All around old Rolling Stones music is playing.
    I can tell it's a sixties bar by the spiffy waiter recycling sheets for
    tablecloths. The sixties was "into," environment.
    It's the eighties now as Heineken was unobtainable in 1969.
    Someone reminds me in order to run a tab a credit card is needed.
    This seems logical but very out of sorts with the people power complex I'm nurturing.
    Even the jokes above the bar are old hat.
    This confirms with certainty that Madcaps is Nostalgia.
    It's too built up for Sha-Na-Na, fintails or Nancy Sinatra's,
    These Boots Are Made For Walking.
    In my sensible decade that tune is considered sadistic. Obviously,
    the effect is too sophisticated to imagine I'm even ...

Paul Cameron Brown

Shivaree

    These kettle bells.
    Is it the axe-murderer,
    with green garbage bag
    in the shadows?

    No. Green trees so thick
    their tops are folded hands
    or knotted knuckles
    to make perilous shrubbery
    by the garden wall.

    Yet this is a state of mind
    and shards of multi-coloured
    glass dot the top of stones.
    Interesting. Should a sociopath put
    out his shingle, come calling,
    a much under-estimated, rude uttering
    would take place.

    Still bees are active in the night air,
    not swarms, but a hum. Pleasant odours waft
    thru stiller air. There is no charged electricity
    to things, no tautness or leathery tightness to
    individual seconds. Still and stricken still.

Paul Cameron Brown

Chemin De Fer

    Had I been
    a gambling man,
    eschewing the "shoe"
    of chemin de fer ...
    perpetually perched upon that throne
    ... effete kingdom of the dice.

    II
    I am that gambling man ...
    taking free access to many
    a natural habitat, lure
    of the open road,
    contents under a bottle cap,
    the riverine delicacies
    of female flesh. Svelte, like
    the croupier's green vision of cloth,
    tingley-trigger smooth yet addictive
    to the touch.

    III
    Or the pleasures of Ovaltine
    (not necessarily the brand name)
    ... by the handful or cup ...
    upon a summer's day,
    the mind blur of expensive art.

    IV
    Blackjack. Three card stud.
    The poker-face...

Paul Cameron Brown