The stream (all workshops)
Hi Ian …you call me bro or bard …tis okay
send me my fare to London
I will come to meet a lovely one like you
and
borrow a million pounds or two
Oh your rich all know
maybe that's why your poetry does flow
wow you know
as Sadie also says so
sometimes
you just gotta deal.
your cards have been dealt.
now play with them.
take your shitty hand and see how it matches up
and it's okay to feel like less.
it's okay to want more.
just know that you're the only one
who can take it.
Shit Carothers we are only brothers
Do I have to wipe your stinking ass?
Come on now let go of Mothers plea
I’ll tell you straight what’s wrong with me
I am so sick of your spoilt stupid face
The way you behave is a bloody disgrace
I have spent many wasted years with you
Trying to make it so that you pull through
Come you donkey dropping let me go
I have my own life to lead you know
What of the family ties we have made
They are false and have destroyed my days.
Gust gushed through windows with no glasses
Rumbling sky signaled swift changes
Blank pages rustle in mid classes
Rain and storm arrange their exchanges
Literary tyros in despair
By the absence of their teacher
Classroom blocks in bad shape, to repair
Yet, we sing about getting richer
Bare blackboards portray our state of mind
Banged empty heads will have nothing to give
We watch the clock tick on, as hours wind
Bracing unread volumes with a heave
There was chaos in my sleep,
in the blackness of my sleep
but they said I was not dreaming,
only sleeping,
only dying,
on and on the river flowed,
a raven flying by the shore.
The moon shine lit the water's face,
as often as he kissed the rocks
where for a time
my dreams lay dashed,
and swam with flotsam
from my cog.
Why am I here? I asked the bird,
that demon bird,
that corvine sprite,
He landed on a jutting rock
and in his priestly prayer
Raising ecstasy....
Let me be young again...
in the summer of my life...
in bikinis or without..
in seas wide and deep
and you will feel the rods inside out...
as you will nod
and in ecstasy...
rebound only
if I could turn back the key...
the lock could open easily...
if you were as exotic
too...
new wave poetry
well the same mind coughs so very often...very often
some music flows in some ears
while for else it’s a cause of tears,
As fuzzy clouds convene in the blue sky, Flames of passion burn with bliss nd ecstacy in my inner being nd as crisp chilly nd serene winds assuage the heavy heart of mine, A sentimental sensation of felicity rudderlessly arouses my stoical spirit.
You will visit
the
ball
where everyone's faces
will be covered with masks
and I won't be able to find
you.
My face too will be
underneath the mask
and someone else
will find
me.
After,
on my way to home
I discover the masks,
you're a ghost
I'm a liar.
At home
I take my clothes off.
I'm standing in front of god,
there's a mirror in front of
me,
dead as matter
alive as process
both indestructible.
waking up was an effort
a struggle of the senses
with a reach to my phone
I found it was mid afternoon
I thought what the hell?
next to me was a glass
clouded and half full
like my memory,
I stretched my thoughts
but only flashes and
glimpses came back to me
it had started well,
quiet drinks
bourbon and Cowgirls,
then Father O’Leary’s
with a dash
of Green Ginger wine
Tia Maria was there somewhere
and it all crept up and bit my ass
erasing parts of the night
Some thoughts about the household cat,
an independent cuss is that.
Not like the family dog who'll sit,
or on your lap will try to fit.
The dog obeys the master’s call,
the cat it seems can't hear at all.
The dog will let you pet a bit,
the cat just out of reach will sit.
The dog tries to communicate,
the cat treats you like real estate.
The cat when only in the mood,
allows affectionate interlude.
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