When it’s all too much or you just can’t stick it,
And your impulse is to refuse.
But what if this is a trick, can it be too late?
Now… how funny is this? Or so cruel,
How strange; repulsively-beautiful.
But right now you can’t explain; you can’t begin to try!
Because…
At least one of us is the same; you feel better now —
Finding found… Goodbye!
Loaf of bread, best before date 1-2-16
Banana, best before date 2-2-16
Skimmed milk, best before date 3-2-16
A bottle of wine…
Barn eggs, best before date 4-2-16
Whole Chicken, best before date 5-2-16
Sugar, best before date 6-2-16
Bottle of water, best before date 7-2-15!
Dates, best before date… correction
One bad joke, use by date…
This poem’s best by date…
Everything expired… rotting freely.
Do you see what I hear?
Because I can hear you looking,
And I can feel your influence upon me.
Goddamn it! Unknown…
Make yourself known!
Only real horses with real legs allowed!
The signs, at the field, ordered, as the wind howled.
The rockers rocked slowly; utterly devastated.
Being fed a downright lie; their field was so highly rated.
In their fury they rocked hard and rammed the signs down.
The real horses while shitting; fled, galloping to town.
The field was now theirs and everything was great!
Until the towns-folk arrived with rusty saws and spiteful hate.
A long, calamitous battle commenced in which nobody won.
Then the contractors arrived…
Daphne’s rain was immense and abnormal; weather so adverse that individual drops of water (the size of one of her own fists) exploded mercilessly upon contact with her petite frame; her shoulders sharp; set to be coat-hanging for a lifetime.
Then at a moment; when her dry humour was her only shelter, she decided she would stand, waiting, slowly drying in her new rain; showing loyalty even beyond her understanding.
Sometimes —
In a world full of sirens and
clatter,
a perfectly timed silence,
that pause in the chatter,
speak louder
than those injected sounds of
violence.
I love repetition; I can really get into it.
I love repetition; I can really get into it.
I love repetition; I can rarely get out of it.
Repeat…
Those choice words; from under breath, you told.
Then, from over yonder, someone screamed, ‘who the f***?’
It was a perfectly timed coincidence, but your blood ran cold.
My days are numbered
But I can’t count on it
Even though one is alone
Two’s company
Three’s the magic number
Four can be dirty
Five can be high!
Six can be nine
Seven is somehow lucky
Eight likes its own reflection
And for some nine means no
Tenfold!
At an aggressive speed
I was losing my way
I was feeling so alive
Seeing what could never be
The atmosphere burned red
And so I thought of what will be
…from now on
I noticed then what I never see
Chrome slithering roads and bloodied sky
With all moistures weeping in blue
Rolling, cruising, endless
On and over flattening mountains
This is what I’m telling you
Those slow buildings in green
I’ve finally found out what I almost lost
And sensed what I had never seen
All around while dissolving out
Through and into the Firesky!
I Eat Let.ers 