… the Plan

Here’s the plan:

Light the fire,

Lie under gravity’s

Perfect blanket

On grass

Lit grey by

Half moon;

Watching the Fingers

“Waiting …

Is doing something …”

We can always tell ourselves;

If, after waiting we are

Doing something.

So – we wait,

Watching the fingers

Do their usual business:

Numbers clicking on and on …

And …

We wait

Just a little

Longer.

Waiting for the Wolves.

Like liquid-drop

Spatter-rocks,

Debris thrown from

Heaven’s crater-cloud volcanoes

Spots of rain congeal briefly,

Waiting for the World

Waiting for the bell –
The inevitable bell –
To ring.
Not the bell that starts the
“Seconds out!” action,
The bell
To tell me
I can’t make money.

Waiting for the call
To come,
The call that means
I am not wanted.
Waiting for the message,
The subtle-strong words
Being formed
That start, surely-softly,
To strangle my
Innocent soul.

Waiting for the day to dawn,
The day when I am worth
Less than half of nothing…

Waiting for the world
To wake;
The world that,
Simply, cannot
See me.

223/1/2013

Waiting

Waiting for love,

For love and coffee;

Lively backbeat,

While I’m training

And paying for

The songs I forgot,

Cushions and the sun.

Even on the rainy days,

When I couldn’t see

The strings,

Purple and night-black:

Waiting for love,

For love and coffee –

One more time –

Lively backbeat …

Perhaps

Perhaps

Patience destroys love,

Destroys love

And lovers.

 

Perhaps

Waiting for

The right moment,

Throwing beauty

After the beautiful

Is always wasted.

 

But it’s

Still patience,

Still beauty,

Still beautiful.

 

27/7/2012