Category Archives: Poetry

Ambition

Working on ideas
New ambitions
New missions
New ways to clear out the cistern
Transform the system
Filter out the noise
From outside speakers
Bent double-time in scriptures
A pointless so-ill-oquy
That tarnishes the hi-fi
And chucks blue dirt in blind eyes
This journey needs a new compass
Because we need to see
North from South
Up from Down
Right from Left and Right from Wrong
All wrong and no mistaking
No more cries or bellyaching
Things cannot remain the same
Things cannot continue as they are

Repeats

Putting the pieces together
And then taking them apart
Frustrated by symmetry
And a semblance of art
When all around is confusion
And chaos on demand
The schedule is nightmare
A sentence without remand

I’d like to change the picture
And bring it more in line
But as you know tracking’s touchy
And the bells don’t always chime
Whether we like it or not
This shit’s always on repeat
So don’t bother with the timer
It’ll be on again next week…

Snap or Chat

Snap or Chat
Chat or Snap
Face or Book
Book or Face
Worth a Look
Try to Talk
It’s not Compressed
It’s Worth a Look
Chat or Snap
Face or Book

Surtr

The Norse fire giant Surtr lived in a small electricity power station just outside my primary school. The bringer of Ragnarok was a distinct presence around the playground, with tales of his wanton destruction and grief-giving the talk of many a troubled playtime.
Once an overzealous goal kick led to a fly-away Frido football pitching up just outside Surtr’s modest home. I went to retrieve the ball. As I approached I was gripped by a sense of pure dread and dark foreboding as if this was it, the phase of all-consuming fire. A warning sign of ‘electricity – danger of death’ glowed hypnotically, radiant with the full fury of the arch-demon. I stood there, entranced and with a feeling of impending doom.

And in the furthest reaches of my brain I heard a bell sound and a voice, stark with intensity:

“Oi, Rob, where’s the Frido?”

Maneki-neko

The lucky cat wants to say hi, I think.

Or maybe goodbye?
A farewell to memes, shared themes and cultural icon dreams?
Or a welcoming of clickable debate, pop culture pointers and tales from long ago and far away?
In fact, the feline is a good luck charm and symbol of fortune, often used outside street vendors and commercial enterprises.
All of which stood me in fine stead as I shrugged off a rough night and strode the miles to my temp job for another day of unrelenting similitude.
There is a cat looking out for me, I remind myself.
They are waving a paw and offering good luck.
Something to take to the photocopier, I think.

Robert W Monk

City

In the shadow of Etna
We live, work, die and love
Threat and power loom over us
As a reminder of what could be

But possibility does not impede
Instead, it inspires
To take the time we have
And use it – here and now.

Birds

The birds are not singing for you
The birds are not singing for World Peace, an end to oppression or a return to the Godhead
The birds are not singing for workers rights, libertarian values, social mobility or true sexual equality
The birds are not singing for a slap-up lunch, a boozy weekend away or a 2 for 1 deal at the supper club
The birds are not singing for hacked elections, the virus in your hard-drive or the End of all of these Days

The birds are not singing for you 
The birds are singing because they need to.

Badmus no.1

badmus1

Something on the Floor

There was something on the floor as I walked back home after my shopping excursion in town. I had been to Marks and Sparks to buy some new comfortable socks and pants, as I was running pretty low. I had also bought a nice bagel from a cafe and felt the edge of my despondency gradually diminishing. There was something on the floor as I strode with purpose, thinking of opportunities current and others due to present themselves. There was something on the floor as I huddled under a pub front awning to escape the steady flow of drizzle. There was something on the floor; it was a bit of bread that looked like a hand. There was something on the floor. There was something on the floor there was something coming out of the floor it was a hand coming out of the floor it was a hand that look like bread it was a hand that looked like bread that looked like bread like bread hand bread hand bread bread bread

I held onto it.

bread

Diluted

From pupils being dilated
To culture being diluted
The underground’s running all night
But there’s not a party in sight
The clubs and venues closing
To make way for global cloning
The ambience gets peaceful
If you can afford it
It all gets a bit more ‘nice’
And wildly overpriced
Time to make an impact
A declaration of intent
Music and clubbing is part of the Fabric
Of what makes a city a city
Keep it alive

http://nightlifematters.com/