TMESHARE DICE

 

playing
such
a long game

that 

not 

only

does it
look like
i am not playing

but i can

sometimes forget 

i am playing too

REGULAR HORROR 6

nights obsidian shine

allows
dawns
grey
washcloth 

in

like a parent

loosing a game

with a kid

on purpose

for a quiet life

MYTHICAL CHESTNUT

living in the moment

that mythical chestnut

is for kids & animals

got no money

got no politics

  

wonderfully ignorant 

of their skin in the game

MIDNIGHT LANES

lighters changed hands

  with the theft as a game

kebab dregs spilled

  on the taxi rank concrete

cigarette smoke hung 

  in the bus stop rain

king skins folded

  into a marlboro soft pack

flat bottle nectar

  helped bogart the pain

& delirium shone
  on us / in jeans / back then

a sticky eighth tucked 

  in a rothschild pocket

electric moons lighting 

  our midnight lanes

  

AN ECONOMY OF PASSION

looking for light
in the dark of the park

odd pop misunderstood
in your eggshell mind

alone in dusks inertia & ennui

by your own divine hand

the fm rules 

missed your 

short wave gain

you are an economy of passion

a child in the inbetween

photo - Tree & Fuzz from the Dagenham Archive

OUT OUT AND OTHER MY-KUS

 

read up 

&

up game

reset the rock dominos

play a fresh hand

~

all the glass is second hand

i wonder - 

does the city miss me ?

~

 get out / out-out

 out-out ?

   

not so easy & anyway - 

you seen it out there ?

STRUGGLE PUPS VOL 20

  the 

  myriad menagerie

  of 

  struggle pups

  silently call

  in 

hopeful telepathy

  to

netflix & the lottery


~

  food bank

  clothes bank 

damage-control left for later

theres no later

~

    

  & 

  they keep on keeping on

 

  flesh nubs

  semi-conscious

  in 

  the 

  confusion bowl

shame in the laundry basket

names in the game

photo by Pablo García Saldaña on Unsplash

TENDER CLICHE POP

strange but
in pain is strength

tender cuts grow
in
the
great games shade

in loss
i cliche find

from bestfondue.com

THE NOWHERE HATCH AGAIN

well it was all gone 
wasnt it

left the nowhere hatch open again
didnt i

my mind i mean - well
i picked up
what i could

it was like packing chips
sticky and almost food

i put them in my breast pocket
a stain appeared there and spread

some i left online like waypoints
like memories and markers and yardsticks
and crawled under the soft blanket
and slept in the daytime

and later my mind dried like beef jerky
i tried to put it back together with tea

but it needed the mindless nothing 
of a cookie cutter movie
to get it to up its minimal game
and 
regular 
acceptable 
low grade 
behaviour

from mycustomhotwheels.com

I SAY/COMA POPS

1.

theres lots 
of people 
out there
indignant and 
newly horrified
cos of 
the politics
these days

they stamp
their feet
they use
new words 
they learned
last week

i say
welcome to
the game

where have
you been ?


2.

lots of 
people saying
imagine some 
poor person
waking from 
a coma
and seeing
all THIS 
on the news

i say
i was
in no coma

dont undermine
my shock



3.

talking 
of shock

well im 
in it

i never
took my
eye off
the ball

and i 
float about
in ptsd
these days 

saying we 
survived worse . . .

and still 
not keen
to breed



4.

and whats
comas got
to do
with it ?

its just 
shorthand 
to imply
your/our 
bameless
surprise

i say
wake up
and smell 
the 
black money
the
arms trade
and 
the
superconducter complicity 
charging on 
your nightstand

from moneyinternational.com

4th ANNIVESARY GUEST BLOGGER 5 - MISS MORIARTY

Beware the Cyber Cunts
by
Miss MoriArty

It’s just words

From behind a screen

I was naive

You were keen

I won’t forget the times we had

But all those words are now just bad

Take them back

Delete, wipe clean

Some words I wish I’d never seen

If we now met

I won’t see you

I’ll see the words, the lies, your game

Things will never be the same

They’re only words

No harm done

So for you

This is my last one

CUNT

 from store.vampirefreaks.com

The Death of Summer Love
by
Miss MoriArty

The last hot embers of Summer

Begin to fade

Drift off

Into dewy Autumn trees

Orange – Red – Gold

They hang there for a while

Glowing

Contemplating their demise

They fail to cling on

Whispered screams

As they fall

Onto Winters cold hard ground

To rot

And be forgotten

photo by miss moriarty