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Sunday, 14 July 2019

Raced Days And Wasted Days

The man
He fasts
He fasts as fast as he was racing the longing
He longs to know all there is to know
Of the knowing

He knows there is no belonging
He now knows there is no belonging
For which he ought to fast
Or for which he ought
Still to be for the longing

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Saturday, 13 July 2019

Open Wound

Such that now we run a writer's group
Troupe the colour with pastiche and plagiarism
We write then we recite our own words

With the barest minimum of critique
Although, as you know, before I met you
I didn't even write at all

My soul didn't spit out any sort of ache
My rages kept inside me, by the thin
Twists of barbed wire, also the corrugated tin roofs

Even today as I get caught behind a farming machine
I ask what on earth can it mean
All these people needing to work on a Sunday

Don't they know that that's the sure way to ruin
That's the road whereupon
The wheels will always fall off

Don't you dare scoff
For I'm sure it's all part of the reason
For the that of whatever happened between us


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Friday, 12 July 2019

Old Straw Hat

There is a breeze
A strongish breeze at that
The new trousers are creased
Creased fairly well at that

I have lost quite a bit of weight
So that now, now the tummy lies fairly flat
It hasn't been too too difficult
For at the moment that's where I'm at

I'm shedding all manner of things
The pounds, the fedora, the old straw hat
This morning I meditated
As I used to, in my Kingsbridge flat

I don't hesitate to tell you about my life
For it's where I'm going, it's where I'm at
I've been thinking a bit deep
Yes, I know that's not my usual scat

It's not that I want to say something cheap
No that's not what I'm any longer at
It's just that I thought how to be
You know; that:

One person is one person
Two people are two people
And when you weigh it all up
There's not much more to it than that

You could have been anyone
So could I
We could have been anywhere
Until the day we die

Yet we did meet, we connected
One day we even learnt to fly
No wonder I think of you
On this day with the big blue sky


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Thursday, 11 July 2019

Misguided Guidance

You said to ring you later
But it was already late
And we hadn't yet booked an hotel
For our trip from here to there

You said to use the guide
On the floor in the next room
Actually there were several
Yellow Pages type directories

Scattered all over the floor
Yes, you said, ring me later
For then we can talk for longer
Without fear of interruption


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Wednesday, 10 July 2019

Harvest All Of What You Sow

The fields are filled to overflowing
The breezes, the breezes are certain but gently blowing
The farmers, the farmers are the ones all knowing
Soon their harvests, soon their harvests will be showing

You showed me fields of potatoes
You showed me tunnels of carnations
You showed me glasshouses of tomatoes
All picked by the labourers of less wealthy nations

You showed me the watercolour paintbrushes
You showed me the oil-based sketching pastels
You introduced me to the joy
Of producing the rushes of the wayward rascal

You said I should have a large loft
So as to paint on a bigger canvas
Yet you never mentioned the croft
Where I might write of a different class

I wrote that you are more, I wrote that you are many
I wrote that you are sat at the glass topped table
In this way I was, and I still am quite rudimentary
I take care of myself, preserve all of which I'm capable



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