What It’s Like

Vacant sign hanging plates

It’s like walking around with a ‘Vacant’ sign around your neck.

It’s like being scooped out by an excavator.

It’s like being a songbird without a voice.

It’s like walking along a jetty studded with couples clinging to each other like barnacles to pylons.

It’s like being on the esplanade ripping into a pulled pork burger like an animal ‘coz you’re on yr own so it isn’t all bad.

Mistrust

fruity cereal in a bowl. white background.

 I’ve come to mistrust the little guy who lives inside my head. He used to be such a nice guy but over the years he’s become a little loopy, his thinking transgressive. Now I hardly know him. He’s a loose cannon, an IED waiting to be stepped on. Look, I say, let’s be reasonable. You can’t say that! And you definitely can’t do that! You want to end up in prison with me? Sometimes I give him drugs to quieten him, talk him down, try to get him to see reason. I love the little guy. I just wish he was more like me.

 

do you find yourself warring with yourself sometimes? how do you resolve differences? is there such a thing as a fully unified being?

Holiday from Blame

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I want a holiday from Blame.

I’m sorry I ever knew its name.

It should be sent up in flames.

 

I know its nasty little game.

From small beginnings it sneakily came

into our lives. Could not be tamed.

 

No love affair can be sustained

In the endless barrage of Blame.

So let us now both abstain.

 

I want a holiday from Blame.

A holiday from Blame.

Won’t you come with me?

We can start again.

 

 

Before I Met Her

indhhh

Before I met her

I always laughed at cartoons

alone,

was astonished before paintings & poems

privately;

 

but now

five years later

I pass the magazine to her,

the one with the crazy cartoons.

Look at this, I say, & she does and smiles

Span our faces & rumble our bellies

like little laughing Buddhas;

 

Trouble shared is trouble halved,

my mother used to say — but Joy

Works inversely:

It is doubled when spent with another.

 

indhhh

 

Lost

 

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I met him on a winding path beneath the bridge

leading to the zoo. I had lost my girl. He had lost

the plot though I did not know it then.

 

We talked briefly beside the banisters as a blue

Kayak passed us by. Before his accomplishments —

his CV baggy with published poems — I

 

was lost for words. I blubbered something

about his latest book. “Take care,” I remember him

saying. “He’s always had his head in the clouds”,

 

a fellow poet once said of him. Perhaps that’s why

a week later he climbed to the roof of a big city hotel

and stepped off.