I notice that you’re a dreamer
That you continue to stand there,
With Sir Polar Bear;
Engulfed in its colossal shadow,
And I can see that you know,
That I know
That you know this too.
It seems you can be forever surrounded,
By an endless sea of molten metals
Your mysterious lands;
Crumbling,
Decomposing with rust;
Endlessly being anchored –
By your hidden flamboyance
Always to be taken –
By complex science
To a certain past
And a future lost.
Dry felt-tip pens
Odd florescent socks
Tracing paper
The Muppets lunchbox
Sweetshops
Dull board games
Lots and lots of dice
Shortened holidays
Longer Sundays
Missing the bus again… twice!
Morning Telly
Pop! Go the ants
Nothing and everything
In soaking wet pants
World cup dramas
Bad wrestling fights
Unwelcome relatives
The endless summer nights
Bad haircuts
Cracked pavements
Thick scabby knees
Puddles
Beer sweets
Sherbet dib-dabs please!
Fake blood
Loading times
The gallop top 40
BUNDLE!
Less of your cheek
Naughty-naughty-naughty!
Too short in the trouser
Satchels
Gizmo top of pet names
Xmas, birthday, Xmas
Nonsense ball games
First love and embarrassment
Marbles on the drains
Saturday + Sunday = two day week!
Diving paper planes
The register
Good… morning… Mrs… Teacher!
Worms and Daddy longlegs
Scare girls but won’t eat ya!
The dreaded Chinese burn
Now wait your ruddy turn!
I could go on…
Someone out there,
Identical to you; in every possible way,
and you passed them in the street, unnoticed…
Only yesterday…
Oh well.
Losing my grip now,
and so gravity ensures
my future’s prescribed.
Gently tumbling;
prolonging,
buoyant;
like a fleck of fresh dust.
How structure and design
now discards me;
to unearth odd ceilings;
calmly engage my feet;
on hovering,
flirtatious,
ground.
Wheels rattling
Hardened grip
Push shunt
Kerb trip
Toy fallen
Toddler crying
Comfort-comfort
Parent trying
Winning line
Neck stooped
All losers
All pooped
No jokes please! Not without first approval.
Especially long ones, they will result in your removal.
Most likely it won’t be funny or slightly amusing,
And if I should smile, point a finger to myself, accusing.
At some shit-awful joke told reliably badly,
I’ll give you the punchline of your life… gladly.
All thanks to a lens in your eyes,
when the sun outlines the horizon.
A sunset: no different to a sunrise,
just something to keep your eyes on.
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!
I Eat Let.ers 