Soggy Crunch
middle mangement –
can’t even control their
own middles
their crunch starts at home
one thousand, two thousand, three
Happy Happy Sad. Repeat.
Looking out through my reflection
I hear the pride of the Robin,
chest puffed into the early sun.
Below fevered Sparrows strip-mine
last years leaves into untidy slag.
A weary Gull struts centre stage and
the heavy footed dance begins;
hobnails softened on the heads of worms.
Dark under Rhododendron cover Boris
watches all with a commando crawl,
a black cloud oozing forward as
whiskers whip back the crowds.
A disgusted banging razes all hope;
only still and silent remain whilst
the warm imprint of the hand of God
fades slowly inwards from the sky.
In the bathroom I shave the frown
from my face; lighter now that
I don’t see myself staring back.
Outside, courage tickles away
tightness from bellies as
they lurk outside my world.
Channelled
i
Freedom is a White Dot.
In a state where even thought is vicarious, broadcast
wholesale, there is no struggle. No freedom fighters.
The free are seen every day, hidden only by last years drab.
Backgrounders; talking, playing, sitting almost off camera.
An underground of conscientious objectors; questioning.
Loose Fruit
Filed under Poetry, Tanka | Comment (0)tangerine orange
rolling across the tarmac
grab it and run
my juicy wish fulfilment
or return for a smile
Generations
Filed under Poetry, Senryu | Comment (0)random selection
spins combination lock –
big crab claws
Where’s the Beef?
Town living is a blessing.
I can walk almost everywhere;
the shops, chemist and to bingo.
But a house right on the
High Street is not without issues.
It’s dark, it’s after ten PM
and my door bell rings.
Local kids are bored again.
Playing “knock and run”.
But without any actual running.
Feek Stink
Mostly a sock is much the same as the next.
Designers agonise over shades and logos
for a tube to keep stench off your boots.
Posh shops know this and wrap them well.
Each sock cosseted in tissue and branded silk,
inside a solid shiny box tied with a bright ribbon.
The quality of these socks is only perceived.
They won’t last as long or stop your new shoes
blistering your ankle; you’ve paid for packaging.
A person is a bag of bodily functions, attitudes
and ape imprinting with feet that stink up shoes.
A pretty ribbon is rarely worth the higher price.
Multiverse
From the bottom of the garden
with my head tipped right over,
it seems like the yard is vertical.
There’s this theory that for every
choice in life you didn’t take there
is another universe where you did.