Darkness

The door is closed

The blackout blacks out

The finest pinpoint

Of light or spout

Wander of bass

Slow the rhythms fold

No walls to touch

No chains to hold

Accustomed to nought

Nought is lost

Unless you count

The time you cost

Therapeutic introspection

Images roll

Scroll through wasted years

Memories unfold

The door opens

Into night

Into nowhere

Further than sight

The blackout

Blacks out the night

Now the finest pinpoint

Shapes the shapeless flight

Burn the acorns

Crush the leaves

In the darkness

Sight deceives

The time is now

Over hollow floors

That we receive

The open chamber door

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There it is

There it is

The new car has been ordered

Another random reflex reaction

On my way to PE22 7NA

This time it is a Kia

My brother an ex mechanic

Speaks very highly of them

Anyway it is Interstellar Metallic Grey

I did seek approval

Not wishing nor wanting to surprise

I don’t know the deeper thoughts

But put on the spot she said yes

Its due to be collected

This time Friday week

After my retreat with the Bamford Quakers

Who may or may not have anything to say

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How does the youth conspire

How does the youth conspire

To look as old

As the customers she serves

Is this really

Life on the edge

Or have the copyrighters gone soft

There are more stories

One about the beginnings

Of container cargo ships

His name was Malcolm McLean

That’s right, not Malcolm McLaren

Who you may know from the Sex Pistols

And why would Vivienne Westwood

Or a serious lookalike

Enter the café right now

What is the story behind her full length

Tiger-striped onesie if not

To stand out from the old folks

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You will know

You will know

Where I have been

As you also have shared

Where I am going

With your friends and our friends

Is there any discrimination

For instance I do know

You have told of the rent I am to pay

Is this fair

That my life enters the public domain

Without question or thought

As to my feelings

It is too too late now

What is spoken cannot be rescinded

All I can hope is that due to its unimportance

It will soon be forgotten

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Step by step

Step by step

Long arms

Hunched shoulders

A Breton T-shirt

Beneath his canvas jacket

It is as if

He was looking at me

As I was walking

But he passed by

Without saying a word

The fishing man too

Is also all alone

Yet he does appear

To have a purpose and a method

For his support of solitude

Should I have lunch

How late was breakfast

Isn’t my body supposed to tell me

All that I need to know

Yet today it doesn’t seem to want to

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