Untitled (4814)
I used a typewriter
until they stopped
making Tipex
showing my age
circles
I think I am
loosing my fracking mind
about to
loosing my fracking mind
throw
loosing my fracking mind
the baby out
loosing my fracking mind
with the
loosing my fracking mind
bath water
loosing my fracking mind
again
final words
behind the last door
a naked clown; wryly smiling
a bowl of whipping cream; rabbis dancing
and a scythe; swinging
behind the last door
your final words
will be
try, trust and
undeniable lust
L8
Is it too late to discover
Is it too late to find
a thing to love,
a purpose among the stars,
not just counting the hours til the bell tolls and
they lower the coffin
into the ground,
Is it too late to discover
Is it too late to find
that elusive catch,
a fish not swimming away
a flow to go with
until
until…
until the dusk turns to
night
batteries not required
when your love runs out, and
you can see the rope swinging
let the humblings take hold
ignore the urge for bleeding
her devotion might be fading
but the Lords true path is waiting
… or so they say …
those with faith
I say stick with what matters
let the fingers do the walking
explore your inner talking
until the end
if in doubt – heart
I care not if you dislike my writing, or my feeble attempts thereof
I do care greatly though, when it tickles your fancy, awakens within,
something of old or ultimately young,
I care not if you label, ignore just because
as long as you heart that which raises your
pulse
a shape of darkness
I recall a painting, made at primary school
we drew our heads in perspective
using black ink or water colour
black heads then lined the walls for weeks
radiating evil; ….
I ever since have hated
that shape of head portrayed
the shape of head remaining
as dark today as then
atop of sloping shoulders
my darkness you cannot see
the painting long since shredded
the memories of childhood though;
remain
not a holy day
trying to be normal
making plans for holiday(s)
not a holy day
but gawd all mighty what a toll
it takes
the sky to fly
the home away from home
the road less taken in a car
of dubious making
the choosing of the date and then
the moulding of the cake
trillions of web browser tabs
of my choosing
and in the end
the lingering doubts
that maybe this time
will be no different,
a last minute cancellation
making these
stressful times
a wasted
effort
Sweet Fanny Adams
I do not like planning much
thinking ahead of what might be fun
doing
doing
doing sweet FA
is what I like
doing
doing
doing zilch
and thus you brand me
a boring
fuck
ring ring
I no longer
answer the phone
though I sometime get up
just to check
the likelihood
the caller
wanting
me