Category Archives: Words

The Lost Astronaut Poem to Self

Have you ever felt your insides boiling in the heat of a Morning Martian sun?

Because, here you can explode immediately so I advise you to please not come.

There is a planet, just one along that’s a little cooler, with water a plenty.

But, I warn you now you won’t be welcome; you’ll be ripped open before some bastard counts to twenty.

So I advise you to stay at home or better still go somewhere else!

If you stumble across their alternate selves, remain very cautious; in another universe, man + man, still = nauseous.

 

The Evil Wallpaper and the Stuffy Room

I cannot speak in this room, my tongue is sewn to my inner mouth like an old rolled up, tatty, old gym mat, left tied in a locked and forgotten storage room.  I am now reduced to a baby regarding my quality of speech, no-one, not even myself will understand my dialect now.

Subsequently, my eyes are like CCTV cameras, tirelessly scanning people I will never know. Such resources require feeding before I again starve myself from predictable individual markets of specialised code. Right now I do not want to buy into anything, other than some much need for some personal inanimate objects, or Mother Nature’s pleasantries.

Then, surprisingly, a section of room clears, I notice someone familiar to me; they sit directly opposite as if waiting in a crowded underground station for a train that will never arrive.

Immediately, faces and limbs move blurrily around them like a meaty aura, descaling time, they somehow cut a somewhat dominant figure with a slouching posture; sitting in an otherwise frenetic sequence of scribbled picture flick images.

All the while, a hideous wallpaper pastes the background; unnaturally large and repetitive design of supposedly beautiful coloured flowers. Seemingly this Rorschach of entangled petals also emits a pungent scent from hells garden, choking our airways ever so slowly. Or, a ladies offensive perfume that loiters excessively as she struts passed on death-defying stilts with a cocktail.

Slowly the wallpapers flowers grow, entwine and weave, swallowing all that stands near it, suffocating the lost and forgotten drones that are top-heavy while on the edge of walls made from verbalised, exhaled breath; an endless wordy fever swells the room into sickness.

Then a sudden refreshingly pure breeze blows playfully, it caresses my moist cheek, my unacquainted companion acknowledges the very same, welcomed oxygen.  As I raise my right hand to my drying face, I notice at precisely the same moment they do the very same, it is as unnerving as it is welcoming.

It is then we leave the room together.

 

Wintering

Branches bare

Black and white print

Cloud covered blanket

Adds shadow over tint

 

The frozen ground

Unpliable and plastic

Threatening, overhead

Dropping white static

 

The Sun feels its age

Winter owns this place

The warmth of my body

Versus the freeze of outer-space

 

I shiver in a fit

I breathe as a dragon

Red/Blue and swollen dead

I’m wintering, a cold cannon

 

 

Night and Day

The day is the same as the night,

Except at night there’s less natural light.

And so the night is the same as the day,

But the day lends itself away.

 

Then if the day is the same as the night,

The night hides the obvious from sight.

Only the moon outstays its welcome,

Hanging there as a forgotten kite.

 

Not can be said of the moon and the sun,

The moon controls the night and tides for fun.

The sun is the day and directly cannot be seen,

Improves your mood and raises self-esteem.

 

Without these forces then where would you be?

Are you a tree hugger or drawn to the sea?

Do you have a connection? Receive power from the moon?

Will you run to the sun, be a shadow by noon?

 

Frog In Fog

Do as I do said a frog in the fog,

and he flopped into a pond.

How lucky was he,

for he couldn’t look beyond.

Do as I do said the frog in the fog,

and he leapt out to dry.

How lucky was he,

for he didn’t even try.

Do as I do said the frog in the fog,

and he swallowed a fly.

How lucky was he,

for his word is no lie.

Do as I do said the frog to a toad,

suddenly some lights; dazzled, he froze.

The toad belched, you’re in the damn road!

The frog in the fog, so it goes.

Halloween on the East Coast of Nowhere

In the descending fog, someone’s getting lost. Late night tales are telling, Hell-o-ween, I said! How’s my spelling?

It’s the trick and no treat, that slow knock on the door, from no-one. Those masked, silent at your gate, come on now kids, pack it in! It’s getting late!

Do they celebrate death and worms? Tell me what you heard, what you saw? Now tell me again, ok, prove it to me, I want the gory details, do you see!

Because, everybody in the house might scream! And something in the house might go arrrrgh! One by one in the house they will go!?! Hello? Anyone left?

We love the scare; we love the violence, for it’s a full moon tonight, how nice – (silence).