I’ve got a block of tofu
yet to be flavoured
staring at me, begging for some sauce
perhaps some liquid smoke
or some spice
let it soak it up….
but alas I remain uninspired
and in case you didn’t know
this is about writers block
Poetry
NaPoWriMo: Pushing up daises
If we push up daises when we’re dead
does that mean we’re all gardeners in the end?
but…
No. On second thoughts
it’ll just be another shade of death
when some fellow human ape
comes along with weed killer.
NaPoWriMo:Modern Dinosaurs
To a worm a blackbird Is like T rex
Haven’t you heard?
The dinosaur is in the magpies Sqwark?
In the titter tatter of bird talk
Dinosaurs have their beady eye on you
From between the leaves
Hunting and singing
Perching and swinging
Souring above your head
The rattle of a dinosaur.
NaPoWriMo: wise tree
I centred myself In the knowledge of a wise old tree
All gnarled limbs and weeds
A beard of moss
Sometimes wisdom doesn’t speak
NaPoWriMo: Alone sparrows
I’ve got a teenage forehead
but the rest of me has aged
I look pretty funny
but I never claimed to be anything but this mismatched man
if God is real I guess me being whole wasn’t part of the plan
God must’ve thought I could live on the edges
but look around
they’re all fenced up
ask yourself where are the birds and the hedges?
Does a bird mistake a fence for a hedge?
No, he knows.
It’s me alone with the sparrows.
NaPoWriMo: Humus
Don’t we look happiest without the flesh?
I thought to myself as the worm wriggled through my eye socket
having played its part in returning me to humus
NaPoWriMo: Trains and maps
Train stations and maps
lay the world bare
in blue and red lines
like scars
telling you where you are
in this town
where we lay ourselves down
watching downtrodden humanity
in raindrops on windows
and a plastic bag
driven by the wind
to God knows
are we as flimsy as this?
Our fragility is strong
a bruise upon our cheeks
writing maps on our skin
telling us where we are
without telling us our place
what use is a train
if we don’t know where we’re going to, anyway?
NaPoWriMo: I am dead, said Fred
‘I am dead,’ Said Fred
‘I’ve got worms inside my head
slithering through the aftermath of my death
I am carnage
I am meat on bones
eat me, eat me!
Bring on the crows!’
I said
‘You’re not dead, Fred
and the worms in your head
are just thoughts you couldn’t catch
turned to fog before you could grasp
I’ll call the doctor
he’ll bring you back.’
‘I am dead,’ Said Fred
If you call a doctor
call Dr Crow
say, ‘Dr Crow, Fred is dead’
And she’ll know
how to return me
And son, I’ll be seeing you
from a birds eye view
NaPoWriMo: Drunk. Pulp. Piss
Tv screens and radio
magazines and stereos
all these thoughts
pulverised in our minds
whole little worlds
behind our eyes
some of us becoming pulp
dazed and confused
I can’t organise all this shit in my brain
how on earth do we get off of this fucking train?
I need a warehouse
to store all these fucked up thoughts and feelings
Cuz I’m apt to start screaming
don’t hold us close
when we’re all going away anyway
I can’t take another goodbye
so don’t say
don’t stay
All these lights lock my brain
always wired
the humming in my brain
the smell of piss on the streets
cuz everyone forgets their heads
drunk to forget
NaPoWriMo: The dysphoria of twos
I’ve got some new boots
what does that mean for my other pair
it doesn’t seem fair
can both exist at the same time
or does one erase the other?
If I close my eyes does one pair stay
and the other disappear?
what if I wore odd boots, one from each pair?
will I look a mug, when I got out there?
if I keep them both in my sight
they’ll both exist and that will be okay, right?
unless one is my Monday pair
and the other is my Tuesday pair?
But does that mean I need to buy another fucking pair?
And then another, then another?
One for each day, so that none are left behind?
What a fucking bind!
I’ll keep the one pair, if you don’t mind.
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 