Tag Archives: words
‘What part of your life did I walk into?’
The Face in the Dirt (in the Festivals Field)
The face in the dirt in the festivals field
Has always kept quiet, never been revealed
The face in the dirt prefers lying low.
Only appears where grass doesn’t show.
One eye is on the clouds, the other; passers-by.
Never communicates, doesn’t even try.
Drinks from beer spilt and other revolting fluid,
Gobbles dropped food out of view from a steward.
A peeping tom from experiments gone wrong,
The face; never has said cheerio, so long!
It may be under a tent, where someone’s sitting,
Under you’re porta-loo with the smells emitting.
Maybe it’s just enjoying the music, the atmosphere.
When you tell people, make that abundantly clear…
And have a nice time!
Sundialling
My feet; creased and soft, had flattened a balding patch of spikey, dry grass. What’s more, in the dying light; a magnificent faltering bulb of a lowering watt. I created a sundial. My shadow had clocked-me-late, but ever-so carefully, and was fading out (with never a so long or cheerio). The burning star descended in my peripheral, until it hung in its laziest position. Since then, a peculiar theme; as my markered profile has yet to return in daylight; now forever it seems i’m followed by white outlines that duplicate my body in play and in still; from moon or moonless light.
Teenage Lust
He was all of eighteen summers,
She: just seventeen short winters.
In love; he connected fully with spring,
In love; her longing best served in autumn.
Together they lasted all but four seasons.
And yet years later; as they recall,
They’re split was for no reason at all.
Remember Me/You
When faces stick to names… then they’re gone completely;
Slow burning from the unsmoked fires of rainbow coloured flame.
As sentences of broken code are pillowed, all memory weathered in sheet lightning, reflections of you lie as you reflect on delayed whispers; that speed you through to inevitable sleep.
Catchphrase
“So you see, i think you’ve got the long end of a very short stick!” Said the man.
“You mean the wrong end of the stick!!” Replied the woman.
“Listen, you’re misunderstanding me!”
“Believe me, i’m not, but your phrase is all wrong and frankly, quite ridiculous!”
Little did he know that she was a veteran contestant and all time winner of the Catchphrase television show, and would’nt let this man off the hook easily (tragically, much later, the man felt the sharp end of one and finally had his chips!!)
Inspired Writers Block
Gonna get up
Gonna write something
Get up
And write
Write Something
Something great
The best ever
The number one
Gonna get up
Here it comes
Gonna write
Something
Something great
Here it comes now…
Ok, tomorrow then
Wait on Waiter
He said, “Wait a minute!” I’m not waiting in that sitting room, I’ll be over there, sitting in the waiting room — I can take the weight off my feet!”
While sitting in the waiting room, the waiters were busy waiting to set the table; as so he didn’t have to wait (because that’s what waiters are supposed to do!).
Then, they could wait on him.
The weight on him was something else! The waiters had noticed that while they waited for him to choose where he wanted to sit!
Eventually, his table was ready, but only after waiting for everybody else to finish and leave where they were sitting; typical, because that’s only where he wanted to sit!
Eventually, after an excruciatingly long decision on what he wanted to eat, whatever he happened to choose was off the menu. Three unwanted, overcooked meals followed, and with every excruciating wait the waiters arrived decidedly — very much late.
Before the bill, everyone fell ill, and in the end, all that waiting killed them (quite literally) in just one sitting. Much, much later they were carried off the establishment; in bags… none the less, only for the ambulances that carried them away to breakdown — in impassable traffic… what rotten luck!
Slow Bugs of Late Summer
Drowsy
Late summer bugs
Fly dive
Looping
Scuttle drunken
Lazily in ale
Under chilled verticals
Daggers of British rain
Flooding them magnetic
Unto themselves
Toddlers
The unloving
The programmed
Flutter precarious
With microscopic futures
Gumming abreast
Billions of batches
Altogether connected
Too impossibly dense
Worlds of forestation
Of extraordinary family trees
…
Slowed to pause
I Eat Let.ers 