Spider Brendan

A few weeks ago, for one of our PASTA nights, we had a theme of Childhood. I toyed with the usual musings on my own childhood but nothing seemed right. Then, during a walk around my old home town I stumbled on a piece of graffiti which fired a memory. A couple of days later this poem had been produced. I love the title Spider Brendan because it makes no sense but hopefully has enough about it to make you want to read on. Here we go:

Spider Brendan

At eleven
he spent most of the Autumn term
doodling daft faces
onto the sperm
which lazed
across the pages of Biology 101.
We all did quite frankly
But his better ones
looked a bit like
Youngy’s mom.

At twelve
on the walls all around town
he’s spraying “spider”.
Started off with crude childish lines
before the designs got tighter.
Soon
like we’re eating five gobstoppers
we’re silent
admiring them.

At thirteen,
thanks to a library book on
New York Subway graffiti,
and some shifty spray can thievery,
his spiders became 3D.
It had quite an impact on us
when we’d reach out a hand and touch them
to find they were flat

At fourteen
while we’re all trying to get off
with Emma Salisbury
he’s painting a picture
of a spider catching a bumblebee
on the door of the cop shop.
Right under their CCTV.
He even drew a spider invasion
across the door of the Chief Super’s
Austin Aggravation.

At fifteen
after marking more of the town
than a pissy dog
he’s decided to hang upside down
off the overpass.
Then he’s done a spider
towering over a silhouetted city
examining the tableau
through a looking glass.
We day know about
metaphor and simile.
We knew it looked good though.

At sixteen
this story gets to the crazy part
because this Egg Chips and Beans Botticelli
this Council Pop Pollock
this UB40 Klee
only got an E
in GCSE Art.

(c) 2020 Dave Pitt.