Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Branched

I am talking with
Twig the Wonder Kid
 who is telling me
what is was like
when Jerome walked
 out and left him.
His shaking hands
lay out the
bare, bleached bones
of the relationship
so that I can't
help reaching
across and holding
both hands.
Which wakes the
spider in my heart
who unfolds
and laughs at me.
And details my
actions when two
boys were caught
kissing at school.
"Weren't so caring
then, eh?' it says
and scuttles back in.
Which is true.
Stupid, narrow minded
provincial boy
scared of love.
Because it would
open you up
like a pipi.
Which is what
it did eventually
so that now I can
hold hands and
 walk arm in arm
 with Twig.


pipi

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Coded

A man on the bus says:
"This is the end of coding"
and this pleases me
because I never get the codes
that people use.
The life we live,
 being cheerful,
 while doing work
we don't like
with people we have
to put up with.
I'd like to think that now
we'll be able to say
"My life is not too good right now"
without being thought
Gloomy or Depressed.
Just, you asked and I told you
Did you want the truth
or was this more code?
Or  is this where
 I bravely
soldier on
 because
Things Always Turn Out
Don't They?

Friday, September 13, 2013

Joined

I often pass the darkened office
wondering what is glowing, inside.
Today the curtains were open
 and I could see
 a computer screen saver.
A close up photo of
 a little girl laughing
her face a demonstration
of delight.
If it had been a oil painting
and not glowing pixels
she would still have lit that space.
Further on two Asian women
were photographing
an older lady, standing by
an ivy covered wall,
with their tablets.
They showed her the pictures
and her face lit up
with a smile.
At seeing herself,
so quickly
so proudly standing there.
There was joy
and I felt some
stick to me
as I walked by.





This is really happened, this very morning. In about 2 minutes. You have to notice this sort of thing.

Friday, August 30, 2013

Sláinte

Don't let me keep you
from fucking the world over,
but Seamus Heaney has died.
Just some old poet
guy with a funny accent
who wrote about stuff
in peoples hearts and minds.
Not serious things like
gassing and bombing
and killing, I know.
Some old guy
who looked between
and saw what was there
and reported back
so that we could ignore it
and buy another TV.
I think that it's
worth noting that he
bought Beowulf
back to life
and wrote of turnip snedding
in relation to life
but that's just me,
what do I know, poetically
Things I learnt from him, mainly,
though he was the man
and I am a boy.
Yeah,
sorry,
going on a bit.
He was a good guy.
You have to get back
 to your work, eh.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Our Fences

You get a feeling
that you are in this
on your own.
All around are
the little places
that we put aside
to call our own.
They have borders
and fences, even
trees, blocking
the others from entering
those little worlds
we make for ourselves
and our families.
Though nature will
not recognize
our divisions.
There a tree
marks the corners
of three places,
but is owned by none of them..
It is these
divisions that bind us
together as we try
to be be apart
looking for a safe place
in this world.

My poem 'Australia Ablaze' on Poetry24

My poem is here.
I volunteered to be an editor there and feel very privileged to have been accepted. It is a very good poetry site and I felt that it should not be allowed to fold up and the founders had decided to move on. I absented myself from the selection process for my poem.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Unemployed 2

It would be today
that they would ring
but they haven't.
So that is gone.

Last month I thought
the email was
quite promising,
but it was the usual.

It gets harder
to keep trying,
to have some hope,
to care.

Because, obviously
something is wrong
with me that only
other people can see.

I told someone that
it felt like I had been ejected
from society and that
feeling is still there.

I should be at my peak,
now, should be running
something, while I seem
to be the one who's running.

It doesn't help
that I don't believe,
anymore, in the things
that I should.

_________________
A work of fiction but with tendrils in reality.
Site Meter