ITS TUESDAY (MORNINGS AND DREAMS)

MONDAY MORNING

monday morning always tastes of monday morning
when the bedside siren calls time on oblivion
and my dreams turn b&w in the neon smack of day
and struggling to understand i lock them away

and they wait 
on a crack 
in the light 

between responsibility and habit
to run their mad riot again


COFFEE AND JUICE

monday morning tastes like that metallic burr of strong medication
even
tho
we
are
off
and
laying in
with no vet panic or auto repair for a change

a subsonic bell rings a slice of loss 
without time to be noticed

before coffee
and juice
obscure with floods

animal sense and the residual derelict party of dreams


WEEKEND

mondays barcode is smudged

my mind bleeps NO like a posties machine
in consecutive failure to understand

after 
saturdays free tease

and 
sundays broadmoor 
    
    exercise yard
     
      blue 
      chug

from crowthorneheritage.co.uk

LOOKING AT A HEDGE TOO LONG

i wonder who is responsible for this hedge

  its dusk 

 in this light  i dont know  
   if the dark green i see
    is a memory 
      after
 the orange street lights
  have taken  its colours away

  this  hedge
   
    look at it

 all  those leaves
   small leaves
  so many  small leaves
          and  
   i  wonder how they would taste

 i  am reminded of cornflakes
  covered in melted chocolate

  its  a dense raggedy tangle
     but  well pointed 
 like a new builds chimney breast

  and  it comes round the 
 retirement homes barred windows
   like men  forming up on parade
      between the pale order
    of  stacked bricks

        or an orphan
      from a royal mans
        garden  maze
  looking for  attention
    in the pleb streets

from atlasobscura.com