Dark Spots

There’s an ad on some Word Press posts saying,

‘Don’t Cover up Your Dark Spots’ and I thought,

Whoa, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?

Keep our sins and prejudices in the attic,

not hang them out like dirty linen in public,

to hide our inner trolls, I know what the ad means.

I’m not stupid. Just got carried away by the metaphor.

And anyway I almost put up a post yesterday

Revealing a darker, nasty side of me but my therapist

Urged me not to put it up, that there are dark spots,

she said, that are best concealed.





  • Tribute to Blenholt by Natalia Zaratieger on Pinterest

You Scare Me

You scare me.

What did you do wrong?

Once you were the envy

of bloggers like me

hungry for numbers.

Okay, I was competitive

but every entertainer

wants an audience, Right?

And you were the king of numbers.

Then what happened?

You must have been dismayed

as I was shocked.

What does one do to shed an audience?

Put up politically incorrect posts?

Bite the hands that feed you?

Change lanes too often?

Stay in the same lane too long?

Veer off into obscurity?

What?

There is an art to alienation

& you seem to have found it.

I just hope I don’t stumble across it

anytime soon.

You scare me.





*what scares you?

*have you written a short poem about fear you’d like to share here?





*pic by hermes-rivera from Unsplash

Parties in my Head

I’ve been having parties

in the top right hand corner of my head

where the music throbs incessantly

and civility is dead





have another drink , one says

I don’t mind if I do

and the hunchback pounds on the old piano

till well past half two





a bulky fist hammers the door

Joe sent for me, he yells

& a smokey eyeball peers out

is this heaven or is this hell?





I wouldn’t mind so much

take less of a dim view

if due courtesies were observed

& I were invited too

My Furry Friends

You are furry like a dog

sit at my feet like a dog

follow me around like a dog

always under my feet

but you don’t woof.





You are my slippers,

a handsome, friendly pair.

My ex never liked you.

She said I’d be wearing

a dressing gown next,

smoking a pipe,

reading cozy murder mysteries

in front of a log fire

but now it’s just you & me.





You often hear the phrase

‘let me slip into something

more comfortable’

as a prelude to sex

in steamy novels

but comfortable to me

means something else.

You can’t get into much trouble

wearing yr furry friends.

  • pic courtesy of Pinterest

			

The Ninth Crypt

I am about to read a book called ‘The Ninth Crypt’,

A novel I acquired for twenty dollars at the supermarket

But fear I may have made a grave mistake:

Browsing through the blurb I see mention of only

The ninth crypt, all well and good, but what about

The other eight? Perhaps the author is planning prequels

Based on the success of this volume but seeing he is

Now a septuagenarian who came to writing late,

This is most unlikely; perhaps if I bury myself deeply

in the text I shall disinter enough cryptic clues

To keep me happy — but at 800 pages !!! I await

Clarification; in the meantime this tombstone of a novel

Shall stand on my shelf of great unread books.





  • have you got any big unread books on your bookshelf?
  • photo by Grangeburn on Pinterest

My WP Friends: an Ode

.

I love my community of bloggers.

They’re fun.

I love them

Each and everyone.

There’s Hobbo, Beth,

Eden, the Don,

dear old Ed

& a Coyote name John.

There’s Chel. also,

formerly Chelsea,

a big fat can of worms

Little Charmer’s pithy poetry.

There’s eob2

with her eyes of blue

her mystical poems

their music too.

Karen, of course,

her Yard Sale of Thoughts

teasing us with ruminations

her imagination has wrought.

Then there’s foresty Ulle

what can we say of him?

A man , sharply observant

with a taste for whim.

Then like a shooting star,

there’s our phantasmagoric friend:

David, jester and artificer

on a trip that will never end.

Not forgetting Jewish Young Professional

and Sarcastic Fringe Head

like my mum used to say,

you wouldn’t for quids be dead.

So to my fellow bloggers,

one and all,

each day spent with you

is a real cyber carnival.

So Where Are You?

So where are you?

In a galaxy far far away.

No. Where are you really?

Tralfamadore.

Isn’t that where …?

Yes, where Billy Pilgrim went.

That time traveller from ‘Slaughterhouse Five’?

Yes, he went there on his days off.

His days off? From where?

Reality. Reality bites, you know.

But what if you never came back?

Like Hugh Conway in ‘Lost Horizons’?  Dorothy in Oz ?

Yes.

And Peter Pan in Neverland.?

Exactly.

Would it really matter? You’d be where you want to be. Would you even want to go back?

Have you a favourite fantasy place ? Which fantasy world would you live in if you could? What if you couldn’t come back?

The Problem with Aldo


 
Aldo thrust his hand forward
eager, anticipating.
What could I do but shake it?
I didn’t have a coronary,
a brain bleed
or a meltdown
but shouldn’t we have touched
elbows instead, feet
[‘The Wuhan Shake’],
given a fist bump to each other
or even the Tibetan Tongue Greeting
though it seemed as warlike as a haka,
something a little less intimate
than a handshake?
Are we loosening up too early?
I wash my hands furiously with sanitiser
& keep 1.5 m from myself
for the rest of the day.
You can’t be too careful.
 
 

Losing One’s Lid

My rubbish bin has lost its lid

& asks me what to do..

“How would you feel if your Id,

was exposed to full view?





All that rancour, all that passion,

the outright lies and fibs

You wouldn’t want someone peering in

the trashcan of yr Id.





And what if the rain should tumble down?”

“All right,” I say, “all right, don’t be such a squib,

I’ll phone the local council up.

You shall soon have your lid.”





Everyone should have their lid,

pleasant though firmly secured.

The Id is not a pleasant spot

& should not be long endured.

Hittites

You jerk

awake

black thoughts

scuttle across

the floorboards

of yr brain

little

armour-plated

Hittites,

the cockroaches

of yr mind

  • photo by Hermes Rivera from Unsplash