Roddy Williams – The Atheist Poet


Winter’s Grip (2015)

Winter’s cwtched us starved
of hope
of our mad bad will

Teardrops crack underfoot

Blackthought dog skates close

Do you hear the bait breath
beat the long days’ hollow?

My tongue curves words arced
to the dark from their meanings

No one can catch them


Having seen Godzilla (2015)

There was a beforeimage.

The door closed on us then
we did not see the battle
between them or how it ended.

I was left not only with my cheap tv set
but also
the afterimage
of silhouettes sprayed on to the mist

fuzzy monuments of rage.
They hissed as they cooled
to a fixed point.

This became remains
not fossilised but saved
into this editable format

morphed, evolved,
sang itself to a new song

created its own being.

Oh how this returns to me
with its minuscule changing
as if beaten
with mindhammers to another shape
by tiny monster hands.

In a bad place (2015)

Have you called him?
He is in a bad place right now.
I know how bad the place is.
I have no need to call.
I’m in the next room
with the big light on

the big door locked.

Where is this place
so bad yet with a phone? I can’t
call, no. I am
busy bleeding, well lit.
I’ve been juggling
with worry razors.

They’ve cut the line.


Browbeating (2015)

Sid (2015)

I wait again
in a different hotel room.

‘Ring me when you’re on way.’
‘Definitely, Rodney, love,’ you say.

Patient minutes carve the light away
from day.
The shavings gather on the carpet
far too slowly.

After this amount of time,
mountain ranges of shining slivers,
you’d think he’d get my name right.

gps (2015)

and nowadays
our gps is tracked
like perps on cbs and csi
their clean up rate is very high

keen detectives scan the
screen to shadow my
clandestine trek
from m&s to mfi

Shepherds Bush 27/9/15

The Sunday Street Food Market
has security guards.
Large men
with large letters on their backs.

Large enough to guard paella,
keep the roti thieves at bay.

They watched me as I passed
appraised my girth
as if to measure what
amount of pleasure I would

from trying to rob
the gravy train.

March 2015

A Science Fiction date, back in the day
this was; March Twenty Fifteen. The future.
We have flying cars, telepathy and
people live on Mars. Grow very lofty.
Androids stalk the streets, rational godlings
keeping watch on crime, the world safe from harm.
Transporter beams translate us to the Moon
then soon to Jupiter and on beyond
the empty bible black between the stars,
nebulae so vast that light takes decades
to traverse these ginnels of gods long dead.
Unholy species hide in the corners.

We thought the danger would be lurking there
not in that dusty book behind Dad’s chair.

The Song (2015)

I thought I heard you singing

the voice broke the seal
of the tin tune
I’d wrapped you away in
like magazines we stash away in attics
but never mean to read

Pandora must have felt like this

I can not herd the tracks
like reminder bats
back into the dark

Pandora’d have been well pissed off
as was I
realising all was wrong
all was gone

and it wasn’t even you
singing the song

The New Commandments VIII (2015)

Thou shalt not download
illegal mp3s, neither shalt thou
pirate, nor purchase a pirate,
from a pirate
in a pirate outlet,
nor any thing that is his,
for it was not his to flog in
the first place, so saieth The Lord.

Neither shalt thou board a bus
via the exit doors
whilst thy driver looks not
toward thee,
nor take home pens and boxes
of paperclips from thy workplace.

Thou mayest take a dressing gown
from thy hotel bedroom, for The Lord
hath decreed that they
knoweth what goes on
and factor the cost into
their extortionate prices.