Augustus Young       light verse, poetry and prose
a webzine of new and unpublished work

How dare you take
my sun away
with your long shadow.
Worse than blinds
because you see
what you are doing. 
Rain proof
The refrain of the rain
on the roof is a proof
you at least have a roof
overhead. Why complain?

Yesterday was My Birthday
July the eighth.
A little late
to be born again.
The next breath
could be my last.
All I can do is wait.
I’ve never been a health purist.
I drink rum and smoke a pipe,
and don’t mind taking a risk
-  without a helmet on the bike,
and swimming wild - not to be found
dead at home, rotting on the ground,
till the weekly bonne comes to clean
the unholy mess. Me, I mean.
The first lover
but not the last.
Her future is
to have a past
Bad Loser
I hate everybody
that isn’t you
because they are alive.
What right have they
to exist when you
I would kill them
only it wouldn’t
make any difference.
I’m giving up breathing because of pollution.
And having injections of oxygen instead.
I’m hoping it’s an advance in evolution.
Being alive when one’s technically dead.
Le petit besoin
I came to France
Not for romance
But to piss in the open air.
I   took my chance
unzipped my pants
and was met by a tourist’s stare.
I would like to be a tree,
so I could branch out as me.
Leaves would be my immortal works
But being deciduous my crux
is that, blown down by the wind,
swept up and bagged, they’ll be binned.
Cultural Hierarchy
Sunday Supplements: Ireland
Fashion and Beauty
Food and Drink
Health and Life
Homes and Interiors
Art, Books, Film and TV