Chicken of Despair

Every dawn I romped with the chicken of despair.
Afterwards I would roast it and eat it hot.
The dinner dance often clucked ‘til dusk;
fat with chicken I was a stout but happy fellow.
Now, your diet pills, taken with cold water
(because a fat man must never dance outside)
make me hate even the smell of chickens.
I am not thinner.
Nor am I empty.

I’m a wicker man.
Virgin fear clucking in my belly.
Alight, we could roast together,
but I must let it peck and claw my insides;
eat my cornflakes and cheese sandwiches and smile
(because I know it will want a dance after its tea).
I say I like them and you say I’m better.
I am better.
Better at hiding chicken bones.

Keep Fit

manicured lawn –
seagulls dance on the heads
of juicy worms

Passing of a Nut

I am a nut upon the ground
where broken husks lie all around.
Squirrel teeth have cracked the shells
and chewed the life from all my pals.

My crisp and shiny skin stands proud,
I will not hide within this crowd.
Soon my rodent chum will eat his fill,
but greed will make him take me still.

I’ll ride away stuffed in his cheek,
he’ll jump here and there just like a freak.
Spit out into a hole and stamped right in,
I hope to lie here deep, and totally forgotten.

Chirstmas Gift

Christian ethic –
will you let me burn in hell
by taking your place?

Insider

Behind every democracy,
one that’s dodgy or great
there lies an evil dictator,
zipping his fly and
kissing your vote away
with soft salty lips.
As she adjusts his tie,
she whispers your fate
to the smiling front man.

Ice Cold

dark icy river –
suns warm touch wakes
tormented waters

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.

Continue reading »

The Last Mile

wise feet know their path
through threadbare carpets –
last sip of hot tea

Holding Back

I do not dream of working naked,
of sporting prowess or having super powers.
Nor do I wake from falling downwards,
from ghoulish monsters or daemonic hatred.
I wish for but one most simple pleasure;
that I might take a walk upon the sands,
bolstered by the cooling onshore breeze,
my dogs running circles against the sea.
My want is but to be as free as them,
to cross my path and speed right on,
instead of tripping in its rutted depth,
cut by dampened chain and morbid anchor.

Unsatisfied Hunger

unseen force whips last
biscuit coloured leaf away –
empty wrappers burn