MORE MEMORIES

always the pomes are all of memories.

and star ME!

or songs/mostly songs.

or

the stone cold draughts thru Embankment Station.

plastic beers under the Hammersmith flyover.

awkward noon work lunch/day already so long.

orphan bombers born on the Egyptian border.

or

whatever.

always in the pomes i star as KING

watching VHS tape for nostalgia cuddle of recent past/a TV hug;

Flatliner’s

for example.

(I am Jack Bauer’s flatlining corpse)

because i need a hug more than interview Nixon

with fop Frost full in his face

ASKING!

always asking.

or

whatever.

always in the pomes i drop out or i’m dead.

its always horrible and always awkward like 15 forever

but

with

no COMPROMISE! 

EVER!

no NOTHING! 

NEVER!

always i am CONSTANT/STUBBORN and i listen to songs.

because i am only unmurdered

like

a

writer

in Sri Lanka.

(anyway and whatever)

always in the pomes

my baby heart is always chucked out 

with

tins and grounds and crusts and rinds and new plastic packaging.

a broken toy in the rain with the seagulls.

(there's songs/always there's songs)

 

always

then

i listen over and over and over

to

the same same song.

always i trick tears into a melancholy flood of simple chords.

of

wooden pub afternoons/shared chips in a bowl.

of

epic self pity/5 AM hallway wailing/blind and complicit delusion reinforced in the dark when i clock in again.

or

whatever.