Check, check, check again.
Is it good again?
Are you still my friend?
I've been rude again?
Said the wrong words again?
Regret the wrecked train-wreck again.
Wreck the set, stamp out the mess and tread backwards again.
Moon-walking and sliding , regressing time & rewind-again.
Instead of living life my friend, existing on the outside, to no end.
Outwards seeking eyes for signs and glimpses of kindness , admiring and
surprising finds only to find the scowling frowns yet again.
Thrown aside again.
I read that I should look inside not outside in order to regain.
the feeling that is missing and then
find my self, like a toy with a spring that was broken, then
pop up like a revived rabbit , bouncing big smiles lying again.
the inside is clearly retired, tired, decayed and never got started
never formed a semblance of any useful device that normal people retain.
Fuck it, grit teeth, I will move on again.
Wolves run in packs, each pounding body
jostling for position, akin to
males surrounding a rose flower
crammed on a sofa, like sardines.
Each bowing, trying to get in, nuzzle
into ground like pigs to truffles
muzzles snouts with nose and ear rings
and hats like clowns.
Actual crying sounds,
in surround-sound sounding
off about times when they
found their own flower to sing about.
A thorny issue no doubt.
Sit taking it in, trying to tune in,
Catching a glimpse of eyes
THOSE eyes, the ones that sing like
sparkling jewels in a sunbeam.
Ruby glints and sighs, laughs
and surprising smiles.
Banter and good times.
Flick flick reading
looks and tiny changes of minds.
But actually aching, waiting for
signs and signals to go
back to what was
And on and on goes the aching.
Hovering on the edge of hell
Anvil ankles like white egg shell
Dragged from baby frame to mountain male.
Look behind, a crying trail.
A dream did tell.
There is a future, know it well.
Did you see yourself there, promoted?
Did you see yourself there, wealthy?
Did you see yourself there , healthy?
Did you see yourself there, happy?
Handbrake turn slammed, SLAM this angry sham of a man.
Shake , rattle, roll. Reject the fake fatal flawed foil.
Now go. RUN.
Embers from footsteps as the souls remember, trembles..
padding, tiptoeing and steps thrown over large gaping holes
like flimsy coats and blankets over man-holes. A role played
by man, yet a man sold. Sell this man's soul, swallowed whole.
List the sellers , some small, the others tall.
Others retire after performing. So go perform. .
Puppet shadows on the wall.
This poem is an answer to you all. .
A polly-gram like a polly-graph , a year spent lying in dirty parrot-soil.
Not long after so-called friends befriend then turn on you once more.
Chewed up and spat out like bird droppings, trample all before.
Aged, like the frozen egg of a dinosaur.
Another sad poetic recoil, in a poetry lab, hands under a table , promises like a gun-retort, withdrawn .
Good will spent before the night is out. Withdraw. Yet the marks remain stained like oil.
Is he a male troll or merely an ingrained boil? to lance? Dancing kindly trying to find kind eyes , rising to meet mind to mind? No, not at all.
Lead down the path then tossed aside , is that enough? No I have more!
Lilly pads under frog spawn. Under the cathedral lights at dawn.
Rose thorns growing under your skin while you snore.
..the sharp fact of not wanting you any more.
Swallow nestles in dank, dense fleecy mess
pecked shreds, specks of flecked dread, like riven chicks coldly rendered dead .
Shredded blood black, now that was once scarlet red.
Not a Fox, but a metaphor for feeling the same old hopelessness. Try to look ahead?
I thought I'd try write something positive.
I guess Swallow isn't ready yet.
I close my eyes,
they glue and won't open
black worms bounce , vibrate like frayed rope, and
acid coral wings purple and orange and green haze
flashes madly across from one side to the next, stop !
I'm not coping!
I'm not coping?
Copying pair, one day clone to the next , each the same impostor
a double helix of ADHD binding , blinding tired old fool be the joke while you're joking.
Copulating sighs, winding like pale thighs snaking and winding inside.
Baying and hoping, for a climax of shame, still groping and groping.
But the thought of hope has expired, retired and died
I wipe my eyes then they finally open.
Stay for a moment and breathe silt air, sit, stay, try to repair,
pray, make vague note of any sign of rare times trying to relate signs
and signals , breaks in sentences, trials from said crimes..
Fair enough, if its worth sighting tried and died in the wool
Mind you it's a high crime to define slug lines in the sand.
A whole band of those I have bought to this uneven land.
Outlandish bonds , bound and tried yet never a trial.
Tried without a court. Sometimes. Somewhile.
A man with vestigial horns scowls at an entrance .
Yet he himself is deceitful and in-denial.
Torn chances, nasty and hating dances, he wishes to be the one who advances.
Deriving pleasure to displeasure the treasure of others.
Yet the isle moves as an Island. Grooved into continental movements away, away,
slowly as roses rise and entwine.
A rosy mind, red-light shining to the point of being blind.
Blinded yet kind, kindred eyes and a meeting of mind.
Fetch eyes mind the black coal walls
blocking stars, crawls across glass telescope shards
shocking locked continents apart.
Oceans infinite deep tears cried,
from a billion child's eyes dried.
Dark impaired, ink dry. Sand parched ,
Like the bones of ancient scrolls skin-pulled
like a skin canvas across rib valleys and child hide.
Dissolve like dust bowls on a clown terror ride.
In a cattle truck clinging a tiny child 's side.
Mule rising foolish raining beer rivers staining shoes
shaking , changing drinking gears grinding through grieving
heaving, hulking foolish memory shoulders, grounded fallen
onto gravelled, sodden drunken swirling bodies, flung
in twirling circles, dancing from bars to pubs to
bum haunts and dumps, raise the bar with a bar tab
tip the waitress while she waits to escape ,
racing to skate by, delivering shots of fire
or fizzy amber globules like lamp shades ,
displaying an insincere smile whilst
males gazing through Mule haze,
brazen, squint eyes trained
making a paltry
mosquito swipe at
an amber beer
Aim again, this time connecting,
realising the rejection after being rejected again.
Hit the road, this time connecting with head and chin. That's enough its time to reverse and run like the wind.
There are those who take from others and have no concept of giving.
And when they might choose to give, it is always on the condition of taking yet more.
by Paul Sinclair