“At the End of the World” by Phil Clements

I remember endless summers passing in a day
Aladdin Sanes came to invade
The lanes that pulsed with the parade
I remember storms that brewed out in the boiling grey
Of a coastline there to glare
At the threat of sea salt air

I remember paint that flaked from grand deco hotels
As decay demanded age
From all those who trod its stage
I remember helter-skelters lit like blazing Hell
Day-glo Daleks miles high
Screaming pleasure at the sky

I remember slot machines that begged to be abused
Singing songs in blurts and bleeps
Lulling lazy dogs to sleep
I remember crowds that seemed too easily amused
Swooping gulls sweeping the lands
Tearing tepid chips from hands

I remember raging seas that spilled onto the shores
Little boys on breakers, braves
Pointing wide-eyed at the waves
I remember how horizons yawned like gaping jaws
How the joy was swallowed whole
The burning nothing of his soul

I remember when he sent him seven wasted words
Written in eyeliner black
On a picture postcard’s back
I remember how the sun sketched silhouettes of birds
As those words swept off the pier
“How I wish you could be here…”

I remember when he would sit naked on the beach
Waiting as the tide came in
But it never once took him
I remember fruits that were forever out of reach
There was Pride before the fall
But I try not to recall


Phil Clements is a London-based writer and illustrator who has penned pieces for theatre, audiodrama, online and print magazines. He is regular blogger for Pride AM and he owns the most delightful electric blue trilby.