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Best Poems Written by Kevin Mcallion

Below are the all-time best Kevin Mcallion poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

Silver Spoon

Born with a silver spoon
In his mouth
But it's rusted now
By the heroin flame
A world of possibilities
Washed away by pain

The blue blood
In his veins
Is polluted by junk
After taking the step up
From smoking skunk

Just another junkie 
Now

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

The Quick Fix

Give us the quick fix
The easy way out
A heady dose of
Instant gratification
And we'll forget about 
The intellectual annihilation
Of sixty second news 
On BBC Three
Then prime-time karaoke
From deadbeats on ITV

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

Word Association With a Hypochondriac

Hello
Goodbye
Morning
Sickness
Cigarette?
Cancer
Drugs
Salvation
Fluffy little bunnies
Myxomatosis
Yoghurt
Bacteria
Sunshine
Melanoma
Toilet
Armageddon
Death
Everywhere
Drugs
Salvation
Healthy
Obsession
Hypochondriac
Moi?

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

The Hospital Bed

They gather round the hospital bed
United in a communal dread
Brothers, sisters, daughters and sons
Here to see the departing one

For there's no way back,
The doctors relate
And the poor old boy
Will soon meet his fate

A life cut short
By the demon drink
So into the ground
His body will sink

He didn't want it to end like this
A pale shadow of his former self
And faintly reeking of piss

But that's the way 
It's sadly to be
At least his soul
Will soon be free

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

Greed

STOCK	
SHARE
GREED
NEVER
STOPS
EATING
AWAY
AT THE
WORLD

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

Parents For a Week

Parents for a week
Over before it starts
Hopes and dreams washed away by blood
Leaving two broken hearts
How will we remember you
Twenty years from now?
The false start, a minor tug at the heart?
Or the last shot at happiness,
A tragic work of art?
Farewell little one, we'll bid you farewell
Your spotless soul's bound for heaven
As this world descends into hell

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

Rich Kids From Hutchie

Another rainy Glasgow day
And I'm stuck in this train
With the rich kids from Hutchie

Bound for work
With a heavy heart
And they're all mocking me
In uniforms so smart

Confident and cocky
With the world at their feet
I wonder if they pity
This man the world has beat?

Anger wells up inside
As high-pitched squeals 
Pollute the air
So many lives unburdened
It just isn't fair

But this fury is really envy,
Mourning for a youth lost
I'd swap places in an instant
Even with the sullen goths

For there's no greater freedom
Than not knowing what's ahead
Memories of an office wall
Won't linger when you're dead

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

Sunday Service

They used to flock here
Of a Sunday
For worship and prayer
Lost in a world 
Of private contemplation

Now they come
For that first Sunday pint
Praying for an end
To splitting headaches
And that endless ennui

The wafer and chalice,
God's own flesh and blood
Have given way
To Bacardi breezers
And two for one burger deals

No need for a collection plate
To pay the poor priest's bills
The greedy owners rub their hands
As cash flows into the tills
 
A couple of miles away
Young couples arrive
For a peek around
St Michael's showroom flats

The baptismal font
Of property awaits
If they stump up the cash
And take a leap of faith 

Mortgage advisers
Wait in the wings
With chequebooks open
Ready to earn their corn

For this is modern Britain
Born of Thatcher's greed
And moneylenders in the temple
No longer brings scorn

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

Nightclub Queue

Standing near the front of the queue
The boy rehearses his lines
"Just three or four pints"
Over and over again in his head

Focussing on every step
That takes him to the inquisitor
Stray too far to the left or right
And there's no way back

Behind him, the underage drinker
Tries his best to blend in
Three years underage but 
Looking sharp in his best togs

"Play it cool," he says to himself
But the doubts creep in
As butterflies mingle with 
The Merrydown in his gut

Further back, a girl peers
Into her make-up mirror
As she tries to remove the traces of vomit
From that alleyway spew

The icy wind drags its nails
Through her ample bare skin
But it fails to break her concentration
There's drinking to be had

The guy behind can't help but admire
As she bends over to dab
Chilli sauce off her high heels
With a Johnson's baby wipe

With girls like this around
He will surely add another 
Notch to his bedpost
By the breaking of the light

A more miserable night beckons
For the punter round the corner
As a half-empty bottle of beer
Smashes full in his face

As the perpetrator takes flight
With an impressive turn of pace
His victim crashes to the ground
And awaits the siren's call

Details | Kevin Mcallion Poem

Technology

Technology was meant to set us free
Sadly, it wasn't to be

A generation of zombies 
Wasting our lives away
Poking people down invisible wires
Laughing out loud as they reply
With a 10-second video
Of a monkey drinking his own pee

Weren't we more productive
When only four channels were on the box?
In the days when watching nobodies 
Go about their daily business
Was reserved for peeping toms 
And the secret police 

Christ could come back tomorrow
Dispensing wisdom
That would echo through the years 
But nobody would be able to hear him
With white Ipod headphones
Stuck in their ears

The moral decay is well under way
When a live feed
Of bestiality
Is just a click away