Silence
rings hollow
explosive
in the crisped hush
whispered in our –
blushing ears
–
Crushing crescendo
a round of –
applause
clapping against windows
in between
muted secrecy
Author’s Note:
This is written for W3
Poetry
I Have Been Human
I have been victim
I have been villain
I have been kind
I have been cold
Young and old before time graced my bones
I have tried
But not all the time
I have lied
But also spoken truth
I have been ‘only human’
Just like you
But now I will be tried
Before mob rule.
Authors note:
Mob rule is looking for scapegoats. Politics is shifting to extremes. Minorities are the canaries in the coal mines. The scapegoats.
That’s what this poem is about. Humans. Humanity. The humanity that some people, some who are in power, want to take away.
We Are Algorithm
Exiled to the babbling snake pit
ghostly sparrows wings
brush our hands
embroiled in this rage machine
praying for bark with no bite.
If history was rehearsal
now the audience is algamated
Dr Algorithm’s mutants
and just as the monster became Frankenstien
we are become Algorithm.
Exercising my writing muscles to get back into the flow
Using words of the day for inspiration the following was written
If only I could succumb
to the lagom of swirling leaves
be as free as that which glides effortless to sleepy death where hollows don’t know their depth
where no words drew abyss
into which to peer
For the endless dark matters none here
It just is, it just is, my dear
Whispers the crunch of leaves under feet of deer
Seeking Primal Scream
These feelings are caged in civilised speak
but I’ve got a book of matches that strike against my bones
and every breath I take
Is oxygen to this rage
Inside my skull the passenger in my brain
recites all the shit you’ve done
the things I’ve said and the unsaid dead
grinding down my teeth
as my tongue twists and writhes helter skelter
Seeking primal scream
Sunday wordle: as yet remains untitled
We will be demolished in good time
no matter how eager we shout from our chests
we will turn where we are left to lie
Left to age again one more time
I am afraid, with much doubt there will be no stepping into white light
Those tales of afterlife, immortality will have been the biggest scams of our lives
So with all that said, this is the one life we know ourselves to have
And our legacy? Well, that’s not up to us to write
its all written in another’s mind
The clipped Sounds Of Drowning In Autumn
Welcoming the pitter patter of rain
we pull on our boots
walking hunchacked under looming clouds
the voices of builders amongst the bangs and drills
clipped in our cotton wooled ears Bleating absences sheepishly grey in our years
And through the hustle and bustle Depression whistles
as if through the teeth of a biting wind
Our noses cold, dripping with the tumble of leaves
Centipedes scratching at the leather of our boots
looking for crevices to dig through.
This is for W3
Hush the big……. slumber
Something in the woods loves you
something with susurrous hush
hush in communion
hush in gossip swirl
swirl of leaves
swirl of amber crunch
crunch of rugged boots
crung of snaggle-toothed roots
roots baring fingered crowns
roots tapping into earth
earth bares it’s teeth
earth feasts september’s harvest
harvest falls and bares crowns
harvest scythe bears deaths prowl
prowl in frosted trails
prowl in winds sail
sail amber seas
sail on swirling fall
fall to embers hearth
fall to earth’s rebirth
rebirth to silky worm
rebirth to nutrients swarm
swarm of leaves crisp and scrunch
swarm of bees buzz back home
home smell of comfort pie
home stuffed with bellies full
full of whimsy
full of dripping hats and coats on hooks
hooks of umbrellas pointing up
hooks of fingers in come hither crook
crook and crannie
crook and bow
bow out
bow down
down in hidey-hole
down from restless beg
beg of cool breeze
beg of nest of books
books spread whimsy
whimsy cradles inner child
whimsy tucks me in
in the warmth of bellies beast
in the night fall of harvest feast
feast on sleep
feast my eyes too big
big homely comforts
big dreams in slumber
slumber
comforts
Authors note:
The first line is the title of a book I’m currently reading Something In The Woods Loves You
Poem for W3
This did not work out well for the title…..
Spiral Skeletal Helter Skelter
I’ve got spiral staircase skeletal remains
in me jackboot hidebound laugh of a patchwork body
knock on wood, ya can hear the shallow refrains
rolling like marbles in me brain
I was ground to clown by tryin’ t’ stay supersane
now i’m helter skelter
a draft written up and screwed
thrown in the bin in a ball o’ white rose petals
a sham written in’t flesh
No doubt about it, no God could craft this.
Ameneurosis
Plastic bottle lungs wheezed under rattles o’ nettles
along with the dusty breath o’ old sleepers underneath our feet
scuffin’ our lungs as we headed forlorn into the gapin’ maw of sorrows feat.
The gaps in our teeth whistled our rush
The air was terminal, a yawnin’ chasm o’ our fill
as the day gasped its final hush
And then we felt it, the jolt beneath our feet
Then came the chuggin’ o’ steel and sparks
a ghost train hauntin’ us with its owlish hoots
Steamrolling the breath perched in our lungs
our breath that held us tight in our hidebound chests
Exhalation felt like another absence
a truancy that staked our hearts as rebels
Ameneurosis
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