Trapped in anger

Did you ever encounter an asshole
meet an insufferable beast
did you ever confront a demon
did you call out to be released
were you ever trapped by the devil
cornered by mephistopheles
were you tortured before the ramparts
did your traducer never cease
have you ever lived in abhorrence
did they call your abuse just a tease
would you set flame to the devil
mis-remembering that’s where he lives
fuelling it’s pitiful slander
testing your soul to forgive.

 

Scissors 

Phantoms cascade
down from the ether
singing songs of colour
rattling their sabres
riding on flames
declaring open summer.

 

Vicious bow

All colours
arch across the sky
in a ferocious bow.
green and blue side by side,
screaming across the stratosphere.
yellow and red ripping through the air,
sweeping down in all of colours rage,
tearing through the ether
to plunge deep into the Earth.
a shattered mountain crumbles,
where the rainbow ends.

 

POV

While here, we never know us
as well as others know us
we are far too close to us,
to see ourselves completely
when we leave,
we turn and witness
who we were.

 

12 Haiku

Now now is past tense
we can concentrate on soon
where now only dreams.

If music be food
let it play beautifully
for all we have loved.

Tap tap tap return
indent tap space tap return
tap tap tap full stop.

I can hear guitar
string mystery echo love
reverberating.

Wisps climb evening
smokers watch the poison poured
sip the unwinding.

We watch the water
pouring away down the drain
as the drought begins.

Morbid is the skull
to the vacant peoples minds
every skull empty.

The library full
of all knowledge we could gain
but laziness wins.

There is not one thing
there are many sorts of things
try of all the things.

Did you notice how
that hug made you feel lovely
now pass that hug on.

There is no too nice
there is only not nice enough
fuck conservatives.

Twelve a place to stop
sure there’s many more haiku
but enough today.

Waking From Reality.

Pinching and pinching, pinching till I bleed, yet still I am asleep. The clowns are marching down the high street, honking horns, declaring war on sanity. An orange bouncing man blows bubbles, acid bubbles that float offensively, sparkling and bursting, melting on the curb. Each burst bubble greeted by the crowd with joyful cheers, they fizz and hiss and kill. The nightmare is so colourful, so realistic, so heartless, so surreal and so cold. I am so bruised from my attempts at waking up.

 

A Twisted Tree.

A twisted tree can be a beautiful thing, an analogy of interesting, of individuality. But my thoughts turn to a different metaphor. Looking at a bonsai tree, it’s natural wave. It’s idiosyncratic branches are encouraged to exaggeration, to twist and to warp, to double and to corkscrew. Like those people with cruel and simple tendencies, are prodded and encouraged to be sadistic and depraved. A vicious seed fed with poison, to grow more hateful and destructive with every dose of venom. We hope untethered by the cruel governmental gardeners, a toxic seed is given the freedom and nurturing to bloom in loving joy.

 

Heaven’s Demons.

Straight to Hell they rode
on a granite chopper bike
Ripping up the black top
doing what they’d liked
Shrapnel from their jaw bone
venom from their tongue
Demons with no malice
confusion’s what they sung
Dark is just their colour
cacophony their show
Time is torn a new one
as they let the throttle go
Scorching through the city
burning like the free
Playing clowns are dancing
terror strewn for frivolity
Not one intent to bully
just intent to laugh
They banked on heading
along on Heavens path
Songs they sung in ego
notes written in reams
Pouring from the fountain
their hedonistic dreams
Rumour and condemnation
hissing whispered words
Gossip on the breeze
the slanderous absurd
Expectation is nothing
all poor pretences fell
As finally they arrive
at the gates of Hell
Swinging burning rubber
we really never know our fates
Turned down at Hades entrance
they tear through the Pearly gates.

 

The Same Change.

We want change, as long as things remain the same. We can’t have these monumental tides of transformation, advancements and revolution. This only causes distrust and panic. If there is to be any change, it has to be as it used to be, there is comfort in the past, for we survived the past, therefore if we can capture the past, we will survive the future. The simple formulas of the fearfully unimaginative.

 

Poem Casino.

“Write a verse, no more than twenty lines, seventeen dollars per entry” They write. A gamble on one’s own talents. But gambling is always profitable only for the house. Their hat is always full of hopeful dollars, they pull a number, read it out. ‘Me, it’s me!’ We hope to proclaim. Yet, we never do. The winners appear in a fortnightly magazine the house sells. Which we buy.. But who wishes to read those lines. It’s like being sold a Patriots yearbook, when you bet on the Rams. I have quit gambling on hope. I’d rather give my soul to the grateful, than my blood to the leech.

 

Gear Change.

I can feel a change has happened, yet not yet.
Intuition felt a flutter in the force,
like small surge of a gear clicking into first.
The clutch is still down, there is no motion yet.
But we are in gear, soon there will be movement.

 

…

A book with no title and no words, a sentence with no meaning, a paragraph of no conclusion, the pages turn none the less, written in every soul.

While sleeping.

I had a little trouble with the ground falling in the garden, the lawn sinking into who knows what, possibly rabbit, possibly badger tunnels. I am unsure if my garden was losing ground, or gaining height. One morning the lawn fell into the hole, now a six foot chunk of earth, collapsing down, and every day it deepened. I have read of sink holes, cars, land, even whole buildings suddenly lost into the ground. So I trod carefully around the increasing crevasse, wondering how much deeper it might sink, it was tempting to poke it, like a precarious rock formation, just seems like a nudge would create a dramatic cascade. But, there is only so hard you wish to prod into the abyss. On one cold evening I walked into the garden to gauge the progress of the hole, I found that there had been quite dramatic progress… In fact a substantial piece of the garden had collapsed entirely. I crept closer to the edge to look down into it, finding that it just kept going, the further forward I crept, the deeper I could see, yet still I found no bottom to this hole. The edge, free of earth, now rocky, strong, gave me a little more courage to go right to the very rim and peer down. What I found paralysed me with vertigo. The hole went straight down for what seemed like miles, yet towards the bottom there was not darkness, in fact there was light. Oddly, down this hole in my garden, I saw blue sky.

 

Another night, another dream,
Outside, in the neighbour’s yard, is a creature, a black creature. It appears to be half dog and half cat, it stays low to the ground like an alligator. It’s eyes glow brightly with malevolence, it notices me witnessing it’s antagonistic actions from my window. It is no larger than a fox, yet as it slinks along watching me it exudes straight evil. Yet, as I said, it is small and there is a window between me and it, so I am not afraid. I crouch down, we are nose to nose on either side of the glass. It’s sparkling eyes look to the side, to the tall window residing next to the central pane, it slinks along, it steps through the side window’s glass, as if through a curtain. Now I am afraid.

 

In my dream I was wandering halls and rooms, in an endless building. In one room I entered, a waiting room, full of folks sitting, waiting.. I went through the surgery door. There I found another waiting room, full of folks waiting..
There is a metaphor there I guess. That we are each others poison but also each others cure, if would stop waiting, and just go through the door.

 

Amazon delivered the parcel
it sat on the step
waiting for me to return
I fetched my knife
I cut the tape
inside among the peanuts
was another box
I took my knife again
inside was yet another box
how to fathom why so many boxes
inside of course, another box
now this box was only small
yet inside, another box
box after box after box
till looking into this tiny box
I found me opening a box.

 

The buckles have snapped
the soles are all gone
the leather is bare and split
nothing holding them
but hope and love
they are the most comfortable
shoes in the world.

 

We lit the fire at dusk
the fire bowl’s crackling nourishment
sending tangerine flames licking the evening air
as the sun escaped, the fire’s sparks rose into the night sky
taking their place in the heavens.

Sifting

The boat cracks as it pitches on waves
a murder of crows swirls and cascades
yet I can see one splinter of light
so keep rowing with all my might.

 

In the kingdom of fear and loathing
charity is deemed as theft
beggars are thieves on the side walk
no one has any change left.

 

The optimist wears sunglasses in the rain
while pessimists wear a raincoat in the blue
then some, through the dessert, drag a canoe.

 

Two tubby tabbies went to space, they did not think of how, they just did
they saw all the stars and galaxies twinkle in the universe infinity
then returned to Earth, they did not think of how, they just did.

 

Work as Demon to balance the world
to make the world less mushy
be hated by all that is good
though the job is cushy.

 

As mad as a kitten
as sore as the bitten
eccentric the kitten’s claw
I hear no sorry
they show no worry
as I writhe in pain on the floor
yet every kitten
is now forgiven
I do not see their soul lies
I cannot scold
I just wish to hold
the look in their beautiful eyes.

 

Red skipped through the glade
then sharpened up her blade
to the wild wolfs chagrin
she sliced off his skin
she took her prize
a furry disguise
another chap
to trap.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breaking clouds

The dark clouds hung over us as we left the house. They chased us along the road. In the cafe they haunted us still, while we sheltered waiting for sustenance. A silence hung in the place, like a wake, everyone waiting. As the food arrived, the clouds broke, sunlight flowed across the tables, conversation sparked. Contentment softly landed.

 

The air has some place she needs to be, she is so late that she is clumsily knocking over fences and spilling debris, perhaps she should have left earlier.

 

Back when I was a seven year old at school, there was a nook in the hedgerow that surrounded the playing field, a sheltered place of comfort away from the stress of interaction. One time after the school day had ended, I retreated there. I was joined by a girl. I had never seen her before, yet I felt comfortable with her. I do not remember what she said, yet I remember the comfort. I never saw her again. I sometimes wonder if she was real.

 

Same blood they say, under the different colour of skin, same bones and same brains.
Yet, I see this as a perverse route to acceptance, to pacify the fearful, make them see everyone as the same. Surely we must love our neighbours differences. Difference is not to be feared. Our default should be love.

 

The demons change, there will always be demons
watch them vaporise, while the flowers bloom
on another day another demon will come
we will continue to be reborn