Thursday, 14 December 2017

WAVING THE BUSES PAST




i
dont
move
now
how
i
used
to

i used to dance
with the heavy stock
in a warehouse ballet

tipping
endless
trucks
in
the
hurricane storm theatre
of
a
night shifts
dense AM
service road
fox parade

~

now i drag myself now

gimpy

lame

along the evacuated 
daytime streets
to the
bus stop benches

where i fold up
and wheeze
on the downlow
so no one knows

waving the buses pass

i only want outdoor air

and a glimpse
of
the
streetside
and 
the 
flashbacks
i left there

~

and
i
feel 
like 
an 
office-busted pensioner feels
in their 
last outdoor 
dog walking days

ankles wired
to the antiques roadshow
and 
the 
easy chair tune

but i dont wear 
their beige uniform

i will never wear 
that beige uniform

~

and
i
feel
like
i
been
eaten
up
by
the early chapters
proposition and drama
and
am

shadow of a subplot

in danger of
heavy editing

~

so 

quietly go about
my essential work
in
the
morning pockets

filing the reports
and 
writing the footnotes
under
the
cotton mist

but plotting 

steppenwolf redemption

and planning 

war with the machines

in
a
geriaction
sequel
coda





Image result for bus stop uk

clumber park cricket ground bus stop from bbc.co.uk

Wednesday, 13 December 2017

FOREVER CAT




the cat
is soft & warm & here

fur hot
from the winter sun
coming in the front room window

the feel of it
it takes me somewhere

& i bury my face
into his coat

and go there

for
all
the
times
when
i
wont
be
able
to
anymore




Image result for cat fur

from dailyexpress.co.uk

Tuesday, 12 December 2017

SOMETHING GOING IN SOMETHING COMING OUT




i
read
poetry
on the toilet

something going in
something coming out

it
makes
a
Great Sense to me

~

all those pages
i marked with
small fold in the corner

well i picture
someone looking thru them
for
something
to
read
at
my
funeral

Primo's Monday
or maybe 
his Give Us
that
i read this morning
in
there

something going in
something going out

( no wait
  read his 
  Song Of Those Who Died In Vain )

and . . .
flush

~

and im wondering who that would be 
looking for something 
to read
for me ?

when i think

Screw You

im not going to die
theres too much Madness
i dont want to miss

these
pages
are
marked
for ME to read
at YOUR funeral

if i get up the guts
on your Big Day

~

or
i
will
read
them
at your graveside

i could do that
at least

or at your cardboard urn
when your ashes
swirl like starlings
into
the
great wherever

with 
hollywood 
golden leaves
all around
and
thin
mocking
english
rain
getting under
my collar

~

or maybe 
i will 
read them
at home 
for you

do i really need to go out ?

would my proximity
to your cadaver
really matter ?

maybe
itll
help you 
rest in peace

tho
i
dont
know
how anybody can




Image result for cardboard urn

from pinterest

Monday, 11 December 2017

HEAD WEATHER VISA




the only time 
to
act 
as 
tourist acts
is
when
the
inside rain clouds gather
and 
infiltrate your given light
with their rented gloom

notice it
lift your camera
but
know
this
is
not
where you live

know the dark weather
for its transience
and
if
your
zen
allows
it
then thank it
with gratitude
that
you
live
privileged to see
both
sides
of
this
strange coin
even
as
the lightning strikes
your hired hatchback

and there is an edge
to this coin
and if you straddle there

for work
for safety 
or in a hatless crisis

make
sure
you
call
it
Journey
or 
Motel

as it no place
to make camp
for
long






from scottedleman.com