Ever’body you meet –
At work,
In the street –
Seems to be rushing by:
All furious smoke
An’ sugar’d rage.
If’n they got
Tomorrows in mind,
Ain’t none of ’em
Makin’ it obvious.
Ever’body you meet –
At work,
In the street –
Seems to be rushing by:
All furious smoke
An’ sugar’d rage.
If’n they got
Tomorrows in mind,
Ain’t none of ’em
Makin’ it obvious.
I’m so tired,
Work’ll do that
To a body, a mind;
Perhaps my thinking’s
Not so straight
But this?
This is too brief,
Has been nowhere
Near enough.
Too short,
Too black and white,
Nondescript.
No sweetness.
Robbed
Of life,
Of space
Of tomorrows …
And this was
All it deserved?
This passing,
This new burden-old,
This one-more-time grief:
Intrusion, parasite opinion?
This savagery?
I’m so tired.
“Home,” sighed the captain;
One quiet word, on
The edge of the outbreath:
“Home,” a wish-whisper prayer.
And, fatigued, we cut
Ourselves free of the
Toil, toil nets,
The hook, hook ropes;
Turned our backs on
Long-wave whale roads,
Aurora sewn skies;
Opposed the route the
Miserable creature
(Monster-to-some) took.
We are done – again –
With the north.
“Home,” the captain sighed.
Photo source: http://www.mikes-place.connectfree.co.uk
8/2/2013
Double-moon insanity,
Diamond-double intensity:
The reflection and the shadow.
He’s working hard on something,
Feeling the constantly rising
Steam-stream pressure –
Any one can see –
But nobody understands, so
We find it hard
To follow,
To get excited,
To join in.
A hundred and forty makes
Our noses, our ears bleed;
Frustration is free,
So who-are-you free.
We write letters that
Will never be sent,
Drink each other’s tears.
Silver tape and fireworks
Hold us together,
Push us onto the beach:
Love, love and anger
And the tides and pebbles
Of unconditional reconciliation.
29th June, 2012
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