As the Audience Walks Out, The Heat Rises......

Welcome to another slice of nonsense.

 

Gatekeepers

There are stories, every where you look. Some of them you can relate to, some you want to tell...some you want to bury.

As you get older, the differences in your take on which is which, and what is not, and those that are worth keeping, and those that aren't, but that other people will carry for far longer than you, and bring them up at the wrong moment, all fade into one big melt of "This is actually me".

Or not, stress has a huge number of fans after all......

Speckled Wood.

Ent Porn

"Home"

Next door but three.....

Not my cat, not my problem.....

Let's get a few more posted, in this 30 degree midnight silliness.

Pinhole

And there it was, in a flash of a second

Of a dream,

That you were having, maybe,

Perhaps,

I captured your soul, as the Victorian dreamers

Believed.

What do you believe?

With your wooden horse tactical dreams?

With your paranoid, but true dream boys,

And a gypsy lover?

As the cat curled her claws in, and out,

on fake skin settee love realm.

The dream was captured forever,

Thanks to someones dream,

And my camera love

For you,

And my cat.

 

Pub Days.

By the familiar fire-bricked corner place,

We sit, in comforting beery haze,

And tell convoluted tales, of far-off days,

And laugh at how Birdy never pays.

The day to the power four, or five,

Has passed with us still left alive,

Some have sunk, but some still thrive,

Some nurse headaches from the dive.

Years later round the same table sit,

With us and shed your battle-kit,

The night is young, hang on a bit,

If we wait any longer they'll have the fire lit.

It was strange then to think that you are dead,

That you would still never leave your bed,

That we all remembered what you'd never said,

About this and that, and never getting wed.

But the "time" bell never rang in here,

We drink all night to douse the fear,

Never for valour do we sink the beer,

But why you shot yourself was never clear.

Stargazing.

I was sitting, watching U.F.O.s,

Dancing across the sky,

When the thought popped in my head,

Have I ever questioned why ?

When my stigmata had passed,

And the false wounds had healed up,

I felt the mental static blast,

As you spontaneously burned up.

The dead letters in my head,

Were blown off in the breeze,

But the corn circles still stand,

Before my eyes to tease.

Then a flying saucer landed,

I was surrounded by green men,

Who mostly were left-handed,

And smiled backwards now and then.

"Take me to your leader",

One was heard to say,

I said "But I still need her,

"You'll have to go away."

But you were gone from the faery ring,

And I guess I'd dreamt it all,

But at night when the U.F.O.s sing,

I wait to hear your call.

Stormwatching.

Pitch, with a haloed golden island,

Deep in electric black storm,

Leaning out my windowed body,

Into impossible first floor night.

Attendant of whisky, chocolate and smoke,

Big downfalls.

Wait suspended, with heavy pulse,

White nano-flash, lights this vault,

The void fills these valleys,

Ridiculous topographical illumination.

Draw deep, smoke and toke, chew thoughts,

Big pictures.

Dimensional cathedral shades the cleft,

Of hills, rivers and hysterical sheep,

Cloaking the ions and reversing their charge,

Infinite marquee of valley static.

Slug, scotch, smooth, slightly serious,

Big ideas.

Show stopping finale, or is it just half-time ?

Galactic interval, intermission to the bar,

Atmospheric performers strike a final blast,

Leave easterly orderly and drag night in behind.

Mull this dark chocolate monstrosity,

Big calories, perhaps.

The Wall

As your soul spirals away,

Helical plughole extraction,

The cracked heart sinks,

Leaving the empty vessel.

You build walls, bars to more pain,

To the outside, self-defeating,

Self-defence, isolation switch,

No current, no charge, no spark,

No power, no light.

But walls restrict your view,

Unless you lie to yourself,

And decorate them with mirrors.

A cry for help, muffled, walled,

A spiral of mirrors, inward punishment,

Dark times, dead soul, empty, sunk,

Cracked, damaged, powerless and alone.

Reach out, and feel the cold glass,

Where should be warmth and love.

Stop lying to yourself and demolish,

Breaking glass, stone and steel,

Let the sunlight fill the space,

And extinguish the punishing helix.

The Self-Accused.

A red-headed challenge to

This this hormone guided torso,

Falsely obstacle arraigned,

And falsely accused of being "The One"

Though silent,

the challenge echoes from distant years,

Familiar barriers,

Holding back familiarities,

And red-headed opportunities,

And torsos.

Arraigned with class and style,

Though regrettably unchallenged,

At least.

Properly, the groundwork's long done.

Familiar hormone guidance,

Falsely unlimbered in futile echoes,

And unfamiliar torsos,

Barriers to class and distant years,

Come haunt these groundworks,

Silently arraigned redheads,

Always accused.

I wish you all well, but then I always did.

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