1029 - Death's eye

Death’s eye does not look down on us tonight
For it has lost its visionary gleam
And so, not from death’s eye comes any fright
But only from our own internal scream
The light of death, a dark red laser beam
That penetrates our skin, reaches our heart
And, as we lie in bed, dissolved in dream
Some part of us tells us it’s time to part
Our own executioner, our own dart
Rises from within, reaches a great height
Then turns, descending, too fast to be seen
Not seen, just felt, victim of prisoner’s art
A cold black feeling spreading from one bite
Your hear your organs play your funeral theme
Mon 29 June 2009

1015 - Dreams versus reality - round nine

A pleasant enough day at work, then… oh!
The desk melted, the computer flew off
The sun a pea, the moon a petit poi
And I Antonionio Chekhov
This dream of life is real, you can’t shake off
These visions as head falls into basket
You can’t scream or squeal, you can’t even cough
Your lungs are several feet away, dammit!
What a relief! I believe I dreamed it
Yes, welcome back, reality! I’m so
Pleased to meet you again, for dreams are tough
Far better to just sit and eat and shit
To stay low so you can’t ever feel low
Except in life’s dreams that you can’t shake off
Mon 15 June 2009

1014 - No time to do nothing

I thought I’d slept okay, had energy
To get through the day, starting with tennis
But I’m wiped out now. Maybe yesterday
And today I’ve been so active that a rest
Is what I need. But time is so precious…
I can’t rest while there’s songs to be arranged,
Recorded and learned. I just can’t dismiss
This dream, that, as I get older, seems strange
This dream that I’ll be at home on a stage
You’d think my recent fitness strategy
Would help me to make music my mistress
Push-ups, sit-ups, stretching, walks, sport…The page
Has turned from lazy ways, permanently
Or as long as motivation persists
Sun 14 June 2009

1005 - Dark June 2

The sky darkens now that summer is here
This is the season of disappointment
Hopes dashed with each raindrop that splashes clear
Onto the piss and vomit-stained pavement
We cannot say this summer rain's recent
It seems to be the mainstream, quite the norm
Old dreams of lazy hazy days are spent
The plain reality's this thunderstorm
Imprisoning me here; I can't go home
Just yet or my face will be wet with tears
From the heavens above, from where love's sent
Running in dirty streams down drains to form
Subterranean rivers; disappear
To sea with all our dreams, our innocence
Fri 5 June 2009

903 - Impure memories

The man sat at his desk and nodded off
Literally nodding, his head rose and fell
In half a second, he had found enough
Memories, fantasies to cast a spell
And zoom back in time and space to a girl
That redhead with the long straight hair, she spoke
She touched his arm, and laughed, and with a twirl
Of her head, her hair rose and fell. This broke
Thirty years of regret, gone up in smoke
His shyness flew away, a smokey puff
Thirty years of experience served him well
Though both were still at school; mature and tough
But witty with it, now this man could bluff
His way into her heart, his teenage belle
Mon 23 Feb 2009

883 - Lying to myself

I don’t make my bed, but I lie in it
It’s cosy and warm, a little noisy
My face on the pillow dribbles its spit
The digital clock says it’s half-past three
The night’s half-gone; not lonely, just sleepy
As flakes fall off and float onto the floor
Fresh skin metamorphosed to dust bunny
So painlessly done, I sleep on once more
Dreams undisturbed till I wake, and then for
A few seconds, a flashback to my split
From daytime’s fate to night-time’s fantasy
Where it belongs, a quasi-heavenly bore
Comfortable padded cell to self-restrict
Resisting unpredictability
Tue 3 Feb 2009

784 - Peter the Puppet's Poem

I wish I was a bird and I could fly
Well maybe not, because I don’t like worms
Besides, that ginger cat that lurks nearby
Would seem a lion; those are my concerns

I wish I was a fish, swimming oceans
Well maybe not, because my memories
Would be so few, I’d never ever learn
Your name. You’re looking fin tonight...Louise?

I wish I was an alien, who sees
His girl each weekend in her galaxy
Or sometimes in his; you could just take turns
Well maybe not, because of space fuel fees

The bird, the fish, the alien and I
Say good night, sweet dreams, till daytime returns

Mon 27 Oct 2008

736 - Dream lover

If I stop drinking completely I find
The noisy neighbours deprive me of sleep
I become super-sensitive; they wind
Me up as I lie listening; they creep
Around, bang things and each other; they keep
Me from the point of drifting down the stream
Away from this dull, marshy plain to steep
And heady slopes where success is no dream
Gold nuggets just for me reflect the gleam
Of the still-rising sun, caressing wind
Undressing beauties, clothing in a heap
I lie at the top, position supreme
Then a bang in the night and I unwind
Unreeling, rolling through the real snow
Tue 9 Sep 2008

697 - Stop that train

So tired. I hardly slept last night. Bottles
Of beer to blame, three before turning in
Which made me wee a lot, jimmy riddles
Heard all those poems in that collection
On CD, s’posed to bring oblivion
And usually does, but last night, no such luck
After Benjamin Zeph, masturbation
I should have tried pills, Schopenhauer’s book
The graveyard radio discussion stuck
For a whole hour on old steam trains, whistles
And rattling sound effects. Old steam engines
Just count ’em, shiny black sheep on a track
Three hours late - 4 am - my arrival’s
Announced at Sleepytown railway station
Fri 1 Aug 2008

677 - Noises from above

Singing and clapping in her bed upstairs
My daughter, five, too excited for sleep
I think she's happy - I can hear the airs
From Mary Poppins, not counting of sheep
Hush! All is quiet now. Will slumber creep
Into her room to claim her soon? Surely
As darkness keeps falling from space so steep
Her shadowed face, her eyelids so heavy
Will slink like a black cat in jungle tree
Into the silence, into lofty lairs
Above the soil and grass, where night birds cheep
And gravity can't spoil, lovely and free
Necklaces strung with pearly moons, and stars
Sprinkled on cornflakes. Now it's safe to peep
Sat 12 July 2008

590 - Carry on dying

Hello everybody, how are you all?
Well, not so good, but we must carry on,
Like Kenneth Williams, maybe appalled,
But determined to try to eke some fun
Out of this existence, even when some
Try to prevent it. What’s the bloody point?
Well, good question. Perhaps you should ask mum
Or dad: what did they get out of this joint?
I spose, if they’re still alive, they might point
To younger days when life was still a ball,
A time that they still like to reflect on,
When hope still burned, when older ones anoint
Them with what they had learned before the fall,
Before eternity’s oblivion.
Wed 16 Apr 2008

504 - The winds of time

The wind blew my umbrella inside out
And I could only walk backwards, helpless,
Through unseen puddles, unable to shout,
Like in the nightmare when you’re powerless.
Whipped up in the air, now in some distress,
The hurricane flipping me upside down
And back to front, whipping off clothes. Undressed,
It put me down among some girls I’d known
In my teens, when I was shy and withdrawn,
And now, here I was once more, in no doubt
That this time I’d fulfil all hopes: the best
At everything, no longer that young clown,
But a suave man of the world, and without
Looking older than eighteen. I’ve been blessed!
Mon 21 Jan 2008

484 - Eternal springs

The year opened hopefully with a dream
Of success, aided by professionals,
All members of a young and sexy team,
Devising advertising so it pulls
In customers for my product and sells
Whatever I’ve produced, creatively.
Some believe in dreams, some believe in spells,
And even I’ve listened to prophecy,
To tarot and palm readers when they see
Things that appeal to me and somehow name
Those crazy desires, mirages, and fool’s
Gold sprinkled on the beach, washed by the sea
Of dawn’s reality, cleansing the screen
Of fiction’s theme, eyes resuming sad roles.
Tue 1 Jan 2008

482 - Dreamathon

You’ll never believe this, but this morning
I slept even later, till ten minutes
To eleven; yes, just one hour wanting
Till noon. My lie-in record lies in bits!
I’ve had some good dreams lately. Often it’s
Set in a hotel like those ones in which
I stay on work trips, where everyone sits
Down for their meal in some big room. A hitch
To this plot is that personnel will switch
From work colleagues to teenage friends who string
Along in my mind’s resting space that knits
Ill-fitting places and faces, a stitch
Somewhat surreal, but surely congealing
These disparate discrepancies, misfits.
Sun 30 Dec 2007

481 - Dream on, scheme on

I slept and slept and didn’t wake till ten.
That is the longest I’ve slept in for years.
Maybe having this cold helped me remain
Unconscious for that long, so that repairs
To viral damage could proceed. Now there’s
Almost a good reason for being ill:
Staying in bed half the day, no affairs
Of concern, body warm, relaxed and still,
Mind in another world in which my will
Has more authority than this cold one,
This unresponsive mistress, she that cares
For nothing, not only not for me. Till
Bedtime, now only an hour away, then,
I’ll endure all bodily trials and tears.
Sat 29 Dec 2007

466 - Dream lover

When dawn breaks and you’re floating in your bed
On intermittent dreams and wakefulness,
You can’t seem to keep pillow under head;
Instead, billowing waves and octopus
Transport you to a subterranean place
All shadowy, the pale light flickering,
Where they show movies shot behind your face
Which naturally you enjoy watching.
Maybe one day we’ll all be directing
These dreams, recording and replaying. There’d
Be no need for reality, unless
You’re strong enough to prefer it. We’d sing
Of God’s love and the life to come, but dead
Are those hopes in the modern age, I guess.
Fri 14 Dec 2007

420 - Dead dreams

Woke up at six, tried to get back to sleep
Dreams starting, then stopping immediately
I couldn't cross that threshold into deep
Dark pyramids of times gone or to be
But lay yawning the dawn away, slowly
Waking to my fate, Great! I thought, this means
I'll be cream-crackered, low on energy
A half-empty, not half-full, tin of beans
Too tired even to summon up those scenes
Of soft-core sexual sickness I've seen creep
Across my inner screen repeatedly
Auditions by wannabes, might-have-beens
No fanfares, only cold water, the seep
Of Monday, caught in its reality
Mon 29 Oct 07

389 - It's been a nice night out but now I'm tired

It’s been a nice night out but now I’m tired
Looking forward to crashing out in bed,
Departing from the real world, retired
Into the land of dreams, vanity fed,
Taking the centre stage. Once more I tread
The boards of fantasy, an ego trip
In which I find that romance is not dead,
And I empty my bladder, drip drip drip.
Reality’s just me lying, this strip
Of flesh and bone in underpants attired,
Oblivious to all that’s done and said,
The autopilot of a lost ghost ship.
And so, digesting the meal I admired,
I sink fast, like a zeppelin of lead.
Fri 28 Sep 2007

389 - It's been a nice night out but now I'm tired

It’s been a nice night out but now I’m tired
Looking forward to crashing out in bed,
Departing from the real world, retired
Into the land of dreams, vanity fed,
Taking the centre stage. Once more I tread
The boards of fantasy, an ego trip
In which I find that romance is not dead,
And I empty my bladder, drip drip drip.
Reality’s just me lying, this strip
Of flesh and bone in underpants attired,
Oblivious to all that’s done and said,
The autopilot of a lost ghost ship.
And so, digesting the meal I admired,
I sink fast, like a zeppelin of lead.
Fri 28 Sep 2007

353 - I keep on thinking that today's Friday

I keep on thinking that today’s Friday
I keep on hoping that I’ll soon get rich
I keep on thinking tomorrow’s my day
I fantasise I won’t die in a ditch.
Don’t wish your life away, you know a stitch
In time saves nine and mine must be stitched soon,
Because your life blood, so precious, so rich,
Is leaking from age’s enlarging wound.
My diagnosis done, let’s hear a tune;
The prognosis improves with beer, so hey,
The cool fourpack of Stella’s in the fridge,
And strict old sun replaced by looney moon.
Soon I won’t care, and care I can’t bear. They
All live for the weekend. The five day itch.
Thur 23 Aug 2007