Tag Archives: poe-try

Triskaidekaphobia

1. A Fear of the number 13
2. Friday 13th.
3. Unlucky for most
4. Who witness this
5. Dumber One
6. Assault on the senses.
7. Another old Greek word is
8. Demagogue
9. But the more modern
10. Douchebag
11. Says it just as well
12. And Shouts louder
13. On July 13th

 

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New Orleans no.1

Jenga in the hotel lobby
Brass bands in the street
Towers get built up to the sky
And knocked down on repeat

There’s plenty of conflict
And an ongoing war
But here the hand grenades
Are for throwing from bar to the floor

 

Like an abandoned shopping trolley in the breeze

Like an abandoned shopping trolley in the breeze

He moves back and forth on the bench

Shuffling his notes around

Waiting to speak

The time doesn’t arrive

He moves back and forth on the bench

Australia!

As of nearly 2 weeks ago, I am a resident of Sydney, Australia. There is a lot to write about and explore, but for now, here is the first of many responses to this new life…

 

From over and out to under and around, the day seemed clear enough

We’d pack all our things and depart on the wings 

And go from there to here.

Australia chimes through as melody

A loud enough blast of intensity and colour 

The shine directed with no hidden extras

Everything in shot and strictly in focus.

The smell of the lotion mixes with the sea spray 

The early morning birdcall sounds out an age-old greeting :

The sun, the sun – the giver of life!

Folded

Folding arms
In wait of an unexpected unwant
Form and context
Leaves them in struggle
How to portray the thoughts
That appear unbidden
Without giving away
Every last detail of misgiving?

A dog barks somewhere
And a hand is raised
The game play changes
But the rules remain
Arms become outstretched

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

Cans for Hands

He’s got bottles for fingers
And cans for hands
A dumbphone extension
Leading straight to the glands

I know what he’s after
Cos I used to be the same
A blinding of the drama
And some pissing down the drain

Now he’s got no time for dinner
Or anything sane
But the clock is still ticking
And still he might change

But he might not.

Motorway Spirits

Here I lay
Struck cold by a van
On the motorway.
Still and quiet
Like a dead bird or rabbit
Though getting hit by cars
Is not in my habit.

I turn and wave
As each new one
Passes me by
Bits of bone
Bits of flesh
Blowing from tarmac
To sky

Got proper stuck from A to Z
So chucked the roadmap instead
Drive on or walk on
There’s nothing left to see
Abandoned dogs listen
I promise them:
We shall run again