tossing and turning
she: I can smell smoke, can you?
he: that’s my neighbour, below, on anti-depressants; poor bloke, it takes some effort to toss himself off
running for my life
I don’t believe mental health issues
are contagious; per se
although from experience I say
that as anything you come into
contact with; it rubs off on you,
being just a revelation of doubt
or perhaps a contraption to spill
your hidden thoughts; the fear
you carried so long; buried
deep inside, now take flight,
ignites the dry autumn leaves
left in your corners aged,
your fiend – the wolf now
showing his teeth,
you either run or stop
to face the beast
nocturnal feast
Without doubting myself
excessively; nor prematurely
I can sense the grim reaper
approaching.
Shall I lock the keep
bar all entrances
or invite him in to
the nocturnal feast.
the days of thunder
the days of thunder cometh
a stampede across the plane
the broken and resisted
abandoned just the same
they carry forth desire
survival at all cost
though no one told the
leper to bring evidence
to the priests
it has begun
It was in Tel-Aviv
awkward at first but
the trust grew with time
the searching of bags
scanning of bodies
not trusting
only to keep us safe
I saw, finally.
Today again
in Paris on a
sunny day
the searching
the scanning
I did not even flinch
I know now
the world has changed
without return
to safer days
this is it
the future ahead
the days may be sunny
but the ruin of man
has begun
to say that I never lie would be a lie
if you want to
know me
do no listen to what
I say
.no.
do not listen to what
I say
…
take heed of what
I write
as
my poetry never
lie
Undeclared
on occasion
I ask myself
what purpose serves
my writing
the answer invariably;
none and nil; as such
yet I carry on
in equal measures
boredom with
wrapping of hope
needless desire of
wanting where lust
wobbled and ability
faltered…