The Fork of Ambiguity » Loneliness http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com Multi-tyned Poems Tue, 13 Jul 2010 07:57:45 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0 Thought’s of the Narcissist http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/198 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/198#comments Wed, 13 Jan 2010 11:44:07 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/?p=198 I am.

And you, Sir

definitely

are not.

]]> http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/198/feed 0 The Tranny Dowstairs http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/194 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/194#comments Thu, 17 Sep 2009 11:11:31 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/?p=194 air kisses show a
transsexuals monsters –
averted eyes
sticks and stones don’t raise
lady lumps and man bumps

]]> http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/194/feed 0 Barefoot and Redfaced http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/191 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/191#comments Tue, 14 Jul 2009 11:29:02 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/?p=191 my feet are a
labyrinth in the maze –
lobster on the beach

]]> http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/191/feed 0 Dog Soup http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/188 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/188#comments Thu, 30 Apr 2009 20:22:35 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/?p=188 Today I’m eating my dog.  His bones give a literal feeling to the credit crunch as I crack them in my month for marrow.  The old man dispatched him quickly; all over the country.  His soft white fur lines the slippers of several lawyers wife’s, his meat is resting in the window of a well known middle class butcher and his skull will soon be high London art.  I’m left with a bag of bones and bits for soup.  I threaded a dewclaw onto a tendon and fastened it around my neck and boiled the rest in tined peach juice.  He’ll warm cleaner feet tonight, but I won’t have to share my breakfast cabbage.  When the world turns my way again, I’ll use the DNA from the claw to clone him anew and after church we’ll once more dance in the local park before a heaped Sunday lunch. A Candle Maker is never out of work for long, so I’ll sleep deep for the morrow.

]]> http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/188/feed 0 The Silence of a Dry Twig http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/178 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/178#comments Thu, 11 Dec 2008 13:06:56 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/?p=178 A dry twig off the old branch
of the long dead oak tree,
that stands alone against
the slow outside curve of the
more than man deep stream.

A dry twig held in two clean
fingers and an everyday thumb
chambers the silence inside,
the prize of the noisy mind
that now pushes skin on wood.

A dry twig cracks its silence out
freezing rustling feet and closing
cheeping beaks; soothing wind,
water and thought into a single
image that stops the clacking clock.

A dry twig severed and emptied
discarded on the muddy bank,
is tidied away to the magpies
nest high in the dead oak tree
where silence rarely falls.

]]> http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/178/feed 1 Channelled http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/177 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/177#comments Wed, 10 Dec 2008 14:30:19 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/?p=177 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.


ii
Tonight the voices of a million families raise in hilarity
as Bob’s futile levering with an old broom handle,
bursts the dead moose that has jammed in his rain gutter.

Four million pairs of eyes check the picture-in-picture display
of their patented intelligent anti-moose guttering system.
No moose has entered any gutter in 84 days of operation.

Tonight’s happiness: knowing that the smell of a rotting
dead moose won’t make them miss their shows or put them
off their micro-waved low fat cheese favoured nacho bucket.
iii
Creating the White Dot is easy; just point and click.
Within reach of everyone; but out of their line of sight.
A real alternative choice, maybe three paces away.

Stand up, walk forward and hit the switch. As the
crackling fades; go outside, into a different state of mind.
Your mind. One of us will make eye contact with you.

]]> http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/177/feed 0 Front Window http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/61 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/61#comments Mon, 23 Jun 2008 13:58:33 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/?p=61

lawn littered
by fat leg’ed witless oaf –
depression lingers

]]> http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/61/feed 0 Cunning Detritus http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/31 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/31#comments Sat, 29 Sep 2007 13:18:27 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/31 Several half smoked ciggys
and a damp Havana butt.
A broken kiddie’s tricycle.
Enough planks and beams of wood
to make a large dog house
And an old dog house.
Nuts and bolts and the spanners to tighten.
Bottles whole and in half
And assortment of branches,
a thick trunk and a bundle of sticks.
A bonnet, two doors and a seat,
enough tyres to stack as high as my head
and a black bended steering wheel.
A severed dolls head and a dead cat.
A huge double mattress hiding
the mangled end of a ladder.
A paint can not quiet crushed flat.

A veritable mountain of rubbish,
some of Stigs favourite things.

It’s commonality of purpose?
Nothing but trying to kill me.
During my many miles of
merry motorway motorcycling.

Thrown in my face and lap
Piled up or just lying in wait.
Making a tyre go suddenly flat.
Hitting my feet, smashing my legs
and bashing both my arms.
Smashing my bike completely to bits,
almost succeeding and securing my fate.

I’ve weaved thorough it,
swerved around it, jumped it even.
I’ve stoppied before it
with my arse in the air,
once making a huge bunny hop.
I’ve even slid on my back while
my flailing arms mowed the verges.
Anything in making an escape.

So far it’s totally failed
to bring my untimely demise.
We are both very persistent,
so I sure we’ll meet again,
as still I know I must ride
because only then, truly,
I am alive.

]]> http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/31/feed 0 Downpause http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/25 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/25#comments Mon, 10 Sep 2007 08:50:22 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/25

tightness fills the air
lightening strikes downward soon –
butterfly under leaves

]]> http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/25/feed 0 Webzietgeist http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/26 http://the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/26#comments Sat, 08 Sep 2007 08:56:25 +0000 lunc http://www.the-fork-of-ambiguity.com/archives/26 The mighty walk amongst us
looking just as we do but
seeing only themselves in
everything they do or say.
I see nothing of them.

The righteous sit above us
looking down as we do but
reflecting our choices in
anything we do or say.
I get nothing from them.

The ambitious stand upon us
looking upwards as we do but
thinking of our feelings in
nothing they do or say.
I am nothing to them.

The masses wait before us
looking hopeful as we do but
living with the shortfall in
something we do or say.
I have nothing for them.

I am outcast, punished by want,
hated for greed, surrounded by need.
Yet, I can’t leave. I am investing in us
teaching you, pushing myself higher
giving everything for our place.

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