Sat among flowers and trees
With two cares, no fears
And a whistling breeze
Sharp to the ears and soft on the soul
Whatever that is
Identity is a state of mind
And it’s all psychology in the end
Disconnect and drop off, drip-fed
Emotion, like little blue pills
Ground up into your dinner
With all the kibbles and bits
To keep you calm
We all have memories
But we’d better keep them that way
And not let them loose on our hopes
Dreams and other creations
Our notions we hold dear, hold tight
As we hold our dearest in the dimmest of light
We turn to the line of ghosts
Who linger too long by
Bedroom four posts
Groaning and moaning
Some more than the rest
Wearing yesterdays clothes
Shuffling and scuffling over
Polished oak floor, digging ethereal
Heels into the rug
They all have stories to tell
Of another mans life
Long ago and barely remembered
Through the haze of cigarette smoke
And half bottles of gin
Make a man into a monster
And set him loose on the beast
To be rid of the pain of being a cliche
So strangle the ghosts and ghouls
And repeat finer written words
Or more succinctly selected phrases
Be all, end all and go strangle a
Swan for the third and last time
One care voiced and the other
Drops like porcelain, shattering into shards
Sharper than glass, duller in hue
Imagine Taken but without pace, plot twists or legitimate threat but with plenty of uncomfortable scenes of violence against women. Not a terrible film but I will have forgotten all of it by next week.
Wow, so this year is cracking on by. I’ve been kind of quiet on here with regards to poetry. It’s strange because I don’t feel like my productivity has slumped in any way but writing one new poem in 7 weeks is kinda slack. Especially when I was churning out three or four a month last year.
Despite the facts not lying, I still feel creatively satisfied.
In the last month or so I’ve released my first ever poetry reading.
This was for Rough Mouth, which using the wholly arbitrary and inaccurate “most hits”, I adjudged to be one of my more popular poems.
It was shot in one take. It makes me cringe to watch my big stupid lips and weirdly aggressive looking eyes but I think that, for a first try, it’s actually not hideous. I will look to be doing more of these over the coming months and then perhaps try a bit of spoken word or visit some local groups.
I also acted in my friend’s short comedy film.
Will is a great comedy writer and puts a huge amount of work into directing and editing his pieces. Working with him is awesome, as long as we stay on topic and keep clear of games consoles.
Finally, on the subject of poetry. I may be ponderously slow at the moment but I genuinely believe that the half dozen or so poems I have lined up for Hell Yeah; Part Three, particularly Thrones and Sent, I Meant, are my best developed and most involved verse so far.
On my drive into work this morning I witnessed a peculiar scene. Sat on a pavement there were two cats, one black tom, one ginger. They were sat perhaps a few inches apart, facing each other, with a relaxed and comfortable posture. Not squaring up to each other. As I watched, the ginger tom raised one paw with his claws retracted and bopped the black tom round the face, directly below the eye. The black tom didn’t even flinch, he just flickered his eyes at his companion and remained motionless.
Cats are bloody weird. They must have secret lives.
Take this photo for example.
I was walking back to my car in the dark and was just saying goodbye to my friend when a cat slunk slowly past, between us and went and sat on the garden wall behind. About 30 seconds later a second cat followed suite, then a third joined them on the wall. As I took this photo, a fourth feline was skulking along the wall to join them. There was clearly some orchestrated plan behind this, some organised meeting of grey cats on this wall, at this time of night. Though I wouldn’t even try to guess what it is they were doing. A mafia crime family meeting, the Duchia cats awaiting the Corvioli’s for a major sitdown concerning the catnip trade in the region?