Crow's Feet

A poem from 2017

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When I went to bed I was young and not that handsome

But young was enough - there was still some hope

It was always going to go one of two ways

(Well, assuming I didn’t die young I guess)

I was either going to decay like a bunch of grapes

Or I was going to mature like a fine wine

In either case it’s on the palate of the beholder

Yum yum

So I closed my eyes

I wanted to stay awake

But it was too much effort

You know how it is?

Afraid you’ll miss something interesting?

Caffeine can only take you so far

And I slept

I may have dreamed

I can’t really remember

I think I got a job

I think I got married

I think we bought a house

I think we had children

I think we bought a bigger house

I think the kids grew up and left the nest

I think she got cancer

I think she died

I think I was sad

I think I was devastated

But what sort of a dream is that?

Far too much like reality

If I’d really dreamed I would have expected to be missing trains or for my car to crash and I would have left the scene unscathed or I’d find that my wife didn’t look like my wife but she actually was my wife or the house wouldn’t look like it usually does but it would still be my house, maybe some creepy person would knock on the door and then enter even without me unlocking it

That’s what dreams do

Maybe I would have flown?

So which dream is more horrible? The reality or the surreality?

This morning I woke up and I was still alone in a double bed

A bit arthritic I think

I don’t really know where that belly came from! Gross!

Nothing to get up for really

No-one to please but myself

I wish that hand would stop shaking

Might just close my eyes again

Might just not open them again

Plumbum

A poem from 2017

My heart he so heavy

Massa make me slave away

Jesus, He comin’!

Sittin’ at me desk all day

Waitin’ for computer to load

Glory, hallelujah!

Muss aks to use coffee machine

Put up hand to go toilet

Jesus, He comin’!

Angry cuss’mer bawl at me

Put ‘im on hold and talk to colleague

Glory, hallelujah!

Can’t catch me breath before nex’ call

Supervisor stan’ ober me

Jesus, He comin’!

Cuss’mer wid sexy voice

Wishin’ me could be wid her

Glory, hallelujah!

Force cheerful voice readin’ from scrip’

Loud colleague, can’t hear meself tink

Jesus, He comin’!

Lie to cuss’mer dat me help ‘im now

He gib me four out a ten ratin’

Glory, hallelujah!

Cuss’mer wid tick accent

Me aks him tree times his name

Jesus, He comin’!

Computer goin’ slow

‘barrassin’ silence on de phone

Glory, hallelujah!

Sun go down now me go home

Eat fish an’ chip an’ drink me beer

Jesus, He comin’!

Sleep eight hour in me bed

‘Morrow start ober again

Glory, hallelujah!

Attack Dogs

A poem from 2017

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Release the hounds!

Storm troopers death star

Private army death squad

Fringe militia death skull

Nihilistic banner death thugs

Subvert anarchy death march

Violent sucker death punch

Unjustice fanatics death chant

Siege mentality death circles

Fire starters death drones

Domestic terrorist death bleach

Unreason crack heads death stare

Name callers death rattle

Dissonant narrators death spittle

Smash mouths death swords

We blow you kisses, you beauties!

You are the story

Enemies enemies friends

We delight in confusion

Sow our seeds and up you grow

 

Kittens

A poem from 1986

her wild eyes betray playful anger
as he bites into her black and white neck
a pillow cushions her head
he walks away
                        unconcerned

My Girl

A poem from 2017

If I were thirty years younger

And lived on a different continent

And were a little bit famous

And a lot less shy

And a lot more handsome

You would be my girl

Scab

A poem from 2017

Forty years ago my husband left me

It didn't happen out of the blue

I thought I was marrying a devout man

A faithful man

He talked the talk

But true colours will come out in the wash

Twenty three affairs he had

That I know of

When I went out to church

He was at it

When I went out to work

He was at it

My cousin

My best friend

My boss

Some randoms

Most of the time he didn't leave but when he did

I always had him back

Dependable me

Manipulatable me

But one time he didn't come back

I was defeated

This was the end

This was with another best friend

I didn't eat for days

At the fireplace I'd just gaze

Empty

Yet sick in my stomach

We divorced

And he denied his affairs

He wouldn't accept he was at fault

And I cannot forget

I threw myself into work

And charity

And helping others

And the pain would not go away

And every chance I get

I tell people the whole story

Even if I've told them a dozen times before

I can talk about it for an hour or more

Without pausing

I want to be loved

I want acceptance

I want to remain a victim

I want to cry

I want to be a strong woman

I want to be admired for my fortitude

I pick the scab

It cannot heal

I get comfort from knowing it wasn't me

The comfort hurts so much

So so much

Six Degrees of Separation

A poem from 2017

MAHATMA GHANDI in the year of our Lord 1900 volunteered to form a stretcher-bearer group in the BOER WAR

The BOER WAR in part came about when in 1866 a DIAMOND RUSH prompted a massive foreign influx to the borders of the Orange Free State. A subsequent gold rush in the Transvaal brought many English speakers to the Boer region in search of fame and fortune

In 1908 a DIAMOND RUSH in German Southwest Africa created mining settlements which today are GHOST TOWNS

Craco in Italy became a GHOST TOWN when in 1963 there was a landslide. It has now become famous as a film location - one film was Mel Gibson’s THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST

THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST caused protests before it had even been released. A furore over presumed ANTISEMITISM

A major example of twentieth century ANTISEMITISM was in 1930s Germany when Jews were denied basic rights which ultimately led to mass extermination under the evil eye of ADOLF HITLER

Just Like Kevin

A poem from 1993

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Home alone

silence is deafening

enjoy it while it lasts

Home alone

silence is frightening

it might last forever

Never the joy

of a good-night kiss

or a kiss

of any description

I

masochist

I

shattered

but on the mend

changing

yet the same

Time passes

I grow older

the poems remain the same

the bed is never shared

the silence is killing me