Oh You Know, Just Stuff

My Immortal Love.

As the conscious darkens,

Buckles to fold,

And wavers on smoky night air,

My mind finds a hook.

Touching your sweet soul,

I connect and tie my soul to you,

And as my spasms come on

I clench my scream and sex

And our telepath link swims,

As we fly high,

And curl insanely like Indian smoke,

And restrain our screams

To gusts of whimpering and

Colossal quakes of soul release.

Touch me in this place

Deep within this scarred old face,

And die briefly eternal,

On this giant mountain-side

My immortal love.

Mushrooms.


Mushrooms get stuck in your teeth,
Milk tastes of magic and poison in old tea,
Smoke tastes of biscuits and acid.

Watching the receding reality,
Waiting slowly for slow unravelling,
Tangling senses touch deep ethereal lines.

Drift after the rush, and dwell in mind exile,

Occasional bitter biscuit mushroom aftertaste,
Bilious back of your mouth,
Earthy and natural, but focus slacks.

And the gaps in your teeth,
Like those in your life,
Are biscuit-filled and tea-tasting.

As colours start to paisley and dream,
The first tingle at the end of your tongue,
The first casting of moorings to


This perfect but dull reality,
Fragile gateway to delicious and heavenly,
Just a mushroom-step from surreal scenes.

 

 

Our First Date.

Standing, soaking inside the cafe,

"You really are quite a laugh"

She says, as I feel a fool,

Standing shivering in my pool.

"Twice with bits, once without,"

I stand and hear you shout,

The bags arrive and you smile,

Your teeth perfected with some file.

Vinegar, shake onto the chips,

Briefly turning I brush your lips,

"Salt ?", "Yes, but not much thanks,

"Tomorrow I'm out driving tanks."

I giggle, falsely at your jest,

You clutch the chips to your chest,

"I'm a 'Terri'" you tell me,

About a third of the regular army.

We make the bus stop just after nine,

We've done alright, we've done just fine,

A film, followed by a drink,

I kissed you, and turned you pink.

"Not here, people can surely see,"

You said, then winked at me,

Now we're waiting for the bus,

Why is love such a silly fuss ?

Back to your place, or to mine ?

Your eyes really do glint and shine,

Is this really our first date ?

I really really cannot wait...

To get you home, on our own,

And dear reader, do you know,

What will happen when we're there ?

If you don't, I don't care.

See, I still maintain some sort of level of sense of humour, even if it is totally misplaced right now.