Cogs

Sensitivity

They were so open. All of the good and evil was felt. Of now and past. There is only going to be more of it as history rolls out. They tried to find a purely good place to be, to rest from it all. Naively they went to the long standing maternity hospital, the place of birth, of new happiness. But they found the most horrible despair too. The despair only a lost child can cause.
To the long standing park they went. Where running and laughing is heard. But alas in the war, it was torn asunder. At last they think they have it. The oldest ice-cream stand in the world, the spot where millions of happy faces received their favourite treat. Alas in times past, a child lost all three scoops to the pavement. Oh what a struggle to be so sensitive.

Syndrome 

A smile rarely reciprocated.
That shares no context with present time
I feel embarrassed for a while for their lonely glee
I then remember a smile is the happy soul’s face
No matter where that soul is placed.

Cogs

The high cogs increase
the low cogs whirr ever faster
and when they break the machine?

Before the cogs are stripped,
we need a new machine.

Animal attraction

Walking the street I spy on the opposite path a couple. The young lady is fine looking. Her eyes bright, her interest in her surroundings, she is vibrant. She ambles behind a young man who is yet to grasp how to wear clothes, his jeans hang down, he has to hitch them up so he can still barely penguin along. His dead eyes gaze at his phone, not one word to her. He gets into a battered car with various tupperware glued to it and what sounds like a broken exhaust. She gets in too. I cannot fathom why.

Distraction

We headed out in the evening. The night was sharply cold, so we wrapped up in thick coats, scarves and hats, me and she. Fortunately the day was dry, so no ice to clear on the car’s screen. Just to get in, turn the heater on full and get going. I reversed out of the drive, asking my partner if the other side was clear, then drove off. The air seemed blue white and still, no chance of mistaking how cold it was beyond the windscreen. Lights bounced in the rear view mirror, then swept away as the following car turned off. In the distance two dim lights wash up and down on the bumpy road, leaving streaks of red on my tired eyes. I heard “..But what do you think?”. What? She was talking all this time? Shit.

Bubbling under.

I went out early as it was a nice morning. Barely a wisp of cloud in the deep blue sky. Just the merest breeze to take the edge off the sun’s heat. Walking to the bus stop I spied only two other people, an older man carrying today’s paper and a young man nursing an unidentified bottle in a paper bag, a bottle of some strength if his fragile gait was anything to go by. Neither wished to meet my eye. At the bus stop the shelter had been vandalised again, glass strewn across the seats and path, the perfume add looked less than romantic hanging from the broken frame.
I was trying to decipher the smudged schedule, to see when I might expect the first bus of the morning when a pair of men came into view. One was wisp thin, short and had the greasiest hair imaginable. The other was tall and broad, like he could eat a meal without noticing. Though I fight the preconceptions and prejudices of my mind, they still looked like trouble. Sadly my prejudice gained a notch, as the thinner man out of nowhere kicked me in the shin. Disbelief ran through me before the pain could get a foothold. What? Why? In a delayed reaction I leapt back and asked why he would just kick a stranger in the shin. But I received no reply. They just shared a laugh and made inaudible sniggering comments to each other. Thoughts of being a fighting master crossed my mind, what I would do if I had those ninja killer skills. I tutted and rubbed my shin.
This severely disturbed that beautiful morning. I did not wait for that bus. Instead I returned home and plotted imaginary revenge, while soaking in the bubbles of my bath.

Reaper rhymes

He’ll tickle your ankle, take your hair
you try to sit and he pulls your chair
tighten your veins, shorten your breath
picking where you fray till your death.

as depressed as a toothless beaver
proud as a control freak at all his leavers
regretful as the atheist at the pearly gates
gleeful as the reaper when the airbag inflates.

The reaper came soaring from a tree
I worried he had come down for me
my heart was lighter and more free
he said he was just late for his tea.

Death he came and sidled up next to me
no eyes under his hood and lipless teeth
his scythe it glistened in the evening sun
It began a tremble down deep in my tum
my fear gathered my heart almost stopped
he said “Nice weather” then off he popped.

Even if I knew when death was arriving, no cake for him.

Don’t worry about the next trip
you sail upon an immortal ship
all the way to unknown shore
I’m quite looking forward
to what’s in store.

Optimist

I am friend to feuding cats and to the birds
and my friendship to both is undeterred
they both still find it quite absurd.

The mole learn’t to fly, his mind of darkness and earth exploded in new found air and colour. A new crease appeared on his snout, as a smile emerged.
Now imagine the dove doing the reverse. What sickness is this? he thought.

Those with the most toys, long for more while crying,
while those with no toys, look joyfully at the birds flying.

Watching nature’s dance
I forgot all I did not have.

The Ape appeared, it popped up in the frame
all the mice they cowered, casting forth the blame
who sent it, who’s fault is this monster up ahead?
how do we survive this damned bringer of all dread?
This brute it stood mighty, it blustered and it frowned
but it tripped on it’s own ego,
tumbled to the river and it drowned.