A Fortune Told
Time reared its rusty scythe
towards the fortune-teller;
a fortune-told now rests
beyond the reach of existence;
time moves on, ticking to unwind
the perpetual feathers tickling
the twinkling eyes of night
into laughter.
Teddy
Teddy did not move
, but there was room:
no
physical constraints
no
chains;
Please move I said, the basin
is dry
now, the demons gone
and I have this towel
to dry those weary eye
s,
– lakes never swim the poster claim
, but Teddy remain s
in stasis: soaked yet
dry; his eye
prostituted like
the dove I bought
at breakfast;
Teddy did not see my chain
placed upon his furry skin
Teddy did not move
, ever again
.
A Favour SVP: Amazon search for missing books
I am having a dispute with Amazon. They claim my books are available for purchase in all of their regions, but when I look I find that in some regions they are listed as unavailable or not found at all (which is strange considering they are print-on-demand).
I am hoping that this is because I am searching from the UK, so I am looking for a few volunteers to do a quick search in their local Amazon (.com .ca .es .fr .au etc.) and message me the following:
– seller: who is selling the books, is it Amazon or some third-party seller
– availability: if you can purchase them, and if they are available through Amazon Prime
– Price: in your local currency
Please search for these two ISBNs:
9781916364301 (Ghosts)
9781916364318 (Imbalance)
With Thanks 💜
Reynoutria Japonica
But I want to evade the world, I say
with a forced smile like a simile
cheaply acquired at a countryside
auction: the barn barely surrounded
,
,
by wire, the fence avoided as
life versus live wire will surely sting.
But why evade the world, you say,
avoidance is
not sexy,
not listed
as a pretext to fading
into sunlit solitude without shade.
So why do we evade the world,
why do the thoughts invade us,
keep us apart in apartments
and houses built from clay; why
do we avoid The Everything
that matters.
Meaning of Memories
I carried a debt deep within,
an unawareness of place and time,
a lingering doubt this place was mine
to rule and ravage as I found it
inappropriate: approximate
like a half-rhyme sanctimoniously
split over two vaguely poetic lines.
I saw you going further: forcing
a full rhyme at the cost of – of, of
the sacrificial crucifixion: named
forevermore the plurality of pens,
the chopping of a single glyph:
an enjambed word!
a single silent s, to start a new line
to confuse and to contain
a singleminded rule of rhyming.
I carry a debt, one I never intend
to forget: you words dividing,
searching for meaning of memories
and migration: birds, beach or
the hill of Babylon;
I will never become another.
Pink Pigs Crashing
I am no poet; wordsmiths are a different kind
of beings: alien to my pen of blue ink; of crumbling tapestries
they weave and conjure blue skies from the terrors deep down
where their unconcerned clouds no longer linger.
I am no poet; writers write their blue truths:
blue moons and pink pigs crashing, crackling,
roasting to feed the alien men, and beating heart
of a Lady’s pen.
I am no poet; never saw his Skylark soaring in his sky;
never bought her beach bird’s obsession: food, food,
her Sandpiper’s ceaseless search for food, no pathos felt
for nature’s deep-rooted drive to survive.
I am no poet; I fake, I take His words
mixed and unmatched with Hers,
to simmer slowly a tepid truth
served crumb-less, cold, meatless, untold – a bowl for fools.
How to measure a life, measure
The time you have lived
Instead of the time you have
Been alive.
How do you judge that life, judge
The success without comparison
To another’s, unbiased thoughts
Signing the bottom line.
How do you measure a life,
A lifetime of time passing
Without waves shaping any rocks
Or gravel left to others.
How do you judge that life
Without scale and sense,
Without any signs of ever having
Been alive.
Worried Voices
A worried voice whispered, did you
Squirt; a worried voice whispered
Did it hurt; two worried voices
Embraced and exclaimed
A single No: there were no leaks, no
Dreams shattered or sore stars
Sailing far above. The cold embrace
In the tenebrous tower, this story’s
Proleptic irony, her farewell and Bon
Voyage became a ballooning belly
Sparked by another’s life force,
Another’s life forced upon her.
A worried voice whispers
Of mad… sad… moments of
Memory recollection without
Trigger and without purpose:
Mindful madness resting
Among the Stars.
DARK SARAH – All Ears! (Official Video) | Napalm Records
Study music for the last push: four weeks of intense essay … procrastination.
(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)