2 Aug 2019

Half seven



I get up in the morning
And step in the same stream
Twice

Three times
A million

Dry my feet and brush my teeth
Walk out

Forget to check my face in the mirror
Fall face down in a puddle
This works just as well

Get to this place
That place
Nine a.m.
After being up at seven thirty

Again
As always

And my chest contracts
My arms and fists clench muscle and bone

Because somewhere not that far away
The sun is only just starting to
Go
Down.




9 Jul 2019

A strange medley



These poets
All these writers (a different thing, I think)
Are the same same same
Goddamn trick of the light

Then one pops up and says
We need more risk taking in poetry
More anarchy
etc etc
Well yeah, shit

Problem is all those who adhere to a good old
Fuck you
Won’t get published as they don’t fit
One of the many boxes

I think of RA Wilson
Every time
Writing all those books and no one knowing
What shelf to stick them on
What to call him

Dig it
The less they can stick you in a hole
The more they see you
You soak through the barriers and cross
Into brains north south
East and west

It’s not some rebellious bullshit
My writing flits and jumps and (mostly)
Falls on its ass before
Dusting itself off

And then finally
Hopefully becoming this strange medley
Of voices and songs and light and dark
Come along
Colour it in.







14 Jun 2019

The new human



  
The new human is soft yet evolved
Surrounded by wire and plastic
Susceptible to rain
Wind
Flame
They are strong in small corners
Yet easily beaten
In the great wide open

Being inherent to the crowd
They do not stand out from the crowd
A contradiction
Ants that swarm without interaction
Carried on the promise of importance
Anxious and driven by
Someone
Somewhere

The new human is destined to fail
To devolve
Plant pots on heads
Boiler suits
Screaming surreal nonsense for all to
Enjoy

And they can’t even see it
Coming.