A Nut
Sorry but my head don’t rhyme
exposing oddities like
my words that aren’t poems
rhyme either not does,
and
as evident
the characters lined up
fail to say anything using
established literary techniques; so
in a nutshell (not a metaphor) there
is a nut.
A
“So what’s her verdict this time?” A said. “Any fanciful new insights into your stagnating life? Anything worth repeating I mean.”
I was barely through the frontdoor and here she was again, poking and prodding; she should know better, after all she’s the one forcing me to go.
“Well … yes.” I said. “ … she had one insight … relating to my dreams…”
“So? Spill it.” A said.
“Something … about expiry dates …” I said. Better to be vague; ragged and baggy eyes, she could do with a few more hours of sleep.
“That’s it? Is that what I’m paying for?” A said. “Should we switch to another one? A male perhaps?”
“Definetely not.” I said. “You know me and men, doesn’t really work now does it.”
“No, sorry, I forgot.” A said. “I’ll grind another bash of black beans for a brew, then we’ll sit for a chat.”
Oh great, another sitting down, digging deeper into the life of …
Age is just Time on steroids,
a Meter unable to count
the lawful circumference
of fifteen point nine one
five five times
a pie too desired
to consider.
Age is just a Meter stretching,
just Time gone awry.
Her movements always turned subtler just before delivering one of her thoughtful insights, but the twitch of her head, the carefully suppressed cough meant I was never caught off guard.
“The problem, as I see it,“ K said “is that your dreams have no expiration date.“
The Nobel Prize in Poor Judgement
If there was a Nobel prize in poor judgement I would win, hands down I would and claim it with my record as evince, signed and sealed by the magistrates of fate.
I have no defense, no means to fake my failing flaws, hereditary in nature yet I did not see this coming, did not anticipate rust where no iron could be present; where love came knocking like a vacuum cleaner salesman on a Friday just after lunch.
Yet I refuse to give up, refuse to give in to the promised land, the green grass and swelling seas beneath the permanently present sky in all hues of blue.
If there was a Nobel prize in poor judgement, I would win. I would thank them for their judgement, being a being of poor judgement, what else could I do.
Lies Intertwined
I intertwined the lies
the spoken and the heard
with lies soon unearthed,
I formed a plait
wore a short skirt
and painted lips,
I danced your night away
saw the last coil straighten
and a man slowly reverting,
I let it loose
let it fly
and left my sign,
I unpacked and embraced
your final muffled words
behind the plastic mask,
I dyed it blue
my innocence
in a kiss,
I danced alone that night
along the river of dreams
atop your shallow barrow,
I stopped
and turned
to remember,
to greet a stranger’s smile
with a twirl and a bow
is a lie worth pursuing.
creaking in a blessed night,
wickerwork and cold shower
taps; they made another,
an other spawned from darkness
of night – and of minds
creaking.
incomprehensible: her words of love
and loving and living in a moment,
he found in there no understanding
of the magic they shared; words
so eloquently painted
on a canvas of divinity, of light
where he could only see a moment
fleeting, a lover fleeing and in love
the ultimate betrayal.
no one shares him, no one will
carry forth his stories: the facets
of an unpolished rock
slowly disappearing
slowly becoming
a desert devoid of mirages.
Bad Robot
I blame bad programming,
the programmers themselves
badly programmed
by bad programmers;
I blame bad programming,
the operating system unchosen
and low-level language used
by those inherited classes – fools;
I blame bad programmers,
the parental trap of tinkering,
the unspoken words, the hereditary
misgivings and an environment
unfit for purpose.
