Sinister: Monday Poem on Tuesday

[Barrett Ronan]

In the finest tradition of the Monday poem, I'm a day late after offering   
to do it.  Oh well.

Simon Armitage is a Yorkshire poet who many of you will be familiar with   
from the much-missed Mark Radcliffe Graveyard Shift.  As well as writing   
5 books of poetry, he has also written a fine play called "Eclipse" and   
he has a prose book out now called "All Points North" which is well worth   
checking out when the paperback comes around.

I've taken this one down myself from an audio tape by Simon called "Wild   
Blue Yonder", so apologies for any mistakes, etc. and all punctuation is   
mine (never my strongest point).
I always think his poems sound better when he's reading them, as you miss   
certain stresses when the poems are written down (he almost spits out the   
words "You baby" at the end of this poem on the tape).  The poem was   
written around the time that Robin was due to be dumped from the Batman   
comics - Armitage feels that Robin was "linguistically at least" the more   
important of the two.

For next week's, I nominate Chris Leonard on the condition that his poem   
doesn't contain the word "pish".  If he hasn't been "it" already.


Kid by Simon Armitage

Batman, big-shot,
When you gave the order to grow up
Then let me loose to wander
leeward, freely through the wild blue yonder
(as you like to say)
Or ditched me rather, in the gutter

Well, I turned the corner
Now I've scotched that
"He was like a father to me" rumour
Sacked it, blown the cover on that
"He was like an elder brother" story
Let the cat out on that caper with the married woman
How you took her downtown on expenses in the motor

Holy Robin Redbreast nest-egg shocker
Holy roll me over in the clover
I'm not playing ballboy any longer, Batman
Now I've doffed that off the shoulder
Sherwood Forest green and scarlet number
For a pair of jeans and crew-necked jumper

Now I'm taller, harder, stronger, older
Batman, It makes a marvellous picture
You without a shadow
Stewing over chicken giblets in the pressure cooker
Next to nothing in the walking larder
Punching the palm of your hand all Winter

You baby
Now I'm the real Boy Wonder


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