Serviced apartments
where temporary people stay
provide disagreeable odours
from indistinct sinks
and patent leather mushrooms
on demand.
Author Archives
Unspecified
Infected
with the memory
of silence
prototypes of protozoan
breed in arid paddocks
like arguments that congeal
before they bleed.
Withdrawal Symptoms
I was prescribed
an aggressive analgesic
to modify
my osteoarthritis pain.
I decided
to eliminate the pill
because I dozed all day
and overslept.
My camouflaged mind
disoriented
simmered slowly
for several days
It lurked
behind my complacency
like a stalking lion
before attacking.
Sweat began to ooze
then slither
down my brow
inside the wintry living room.
Electric light
harshly bright
replaced
the ominous descending night.
A tormenting band
squeezed
my forehead
remorselessly.
While lying prone
my muscles twitched
spasmodically
cramping unpredictably.
While futilely yawning
my mind
vividly evoked
intricately detailed fantasies.
Jumbled images
zoomed and loomed
kaleidoscopically
as flickering mirages.
The ennui
like an exorcism
seemed ordained
by my conscious mind.
Shadows gathered
amorphously
in close clusters
around my persecuting pillow.
I felt apathetic
and exhausted
by lack of sleep
a prisoner of time.
I hoped to see it through
somehow
just another day or two
whishing for oblivion.
Melancholy days
as the futile sun looked on
glowing and gloating
ironically.
I existed somehow
while disintegrating
and decomposing
with each dying day.
I’d forgive the mind
its heresies
if only to sleep
and dream again.
The Minds of Time
Our gardener’s name
was Gray
about the time
World War Two began.
Aged seven
I hardly noticed
the crouching man
with the leather wrist band.
Middle aged
and slow of movement
he continued weeding
not looking up.
He never said a word
which didn’t bother me
but I since was shy
we failed to communicate
When the time came
for afternoon tea
my mother cried ‘Gray’
from the kitchen door.
I can see him now
beside the verge
introspective and silent
and wonder who he really was.
.
Thank You Loraine
On the final day
the beast rested
and began consuming
human flesh
to the chants of yellow animals
dressed in red.
Lost moments
woven into dreams
of a life
compromised by lies.
Forests of empty trees
alcoves where alibis lie
plagiarized
by resumes that never end.
A solitary life
washed by solemn waves
in a mellow pool
of bubbling lemonade.
Please Louise
be kind to me
cling to your fantasies
deceive me if you wish.
The piano plays
a violin sings
the avenue to truth
is closed today.
Channel Vision
Time to celebrate
the end again
of just another
carbon copy day.
The TV
emoted vacuously
like a churlish child
demanding to be recognized.
An inanimate icon
dissonant and brash
it spruiked constantly
defiantly, contemptuously.
Platitudes
permeated the atmosphere
with the smell of fried fish
pot and stale beer.
A grimacing face
at a commercial break
gabbled insanely
at confetti heads.
Yesterday’s facsimile
began reading
the evening news
dispassionately and blandly.
Chaotic scenes
flashed fleetingly by
as he carefully enunciated
each word and syllable.
The usual spin
from politicians
with the PM
posing with kids again.
The poem ends
as a paean
to the adversarial system
of half-truths and lies.
the evening news
Perturbing Words
Indications of a desultory day
With rust and wrinkled rain
Grey disembodied faces
Callous and devout.
For those about to die
In dreary waves
The inevitability of decay
And tomorrow.
The theatricaliity of normality
Refined by lies
Of happiness and joy
In the desert of the mind.
Stranded
An unsociable moment
Beneath a rock
Or a saline drip.
Unmotivated
Decomposing slowly
Deflated and disjointed.
Like drying seaweed
Isolated
Scattered on a beach.
Unable to believe
In truth
Or a divinity.
An abstract mind
In a jigsaw
Difficult to place.
A recluse
Insulated and alienated
Mesmerised by fantasies.
An old man
A sea urchin
Or shell on the sand.
Grace
Lives immortalised
Eulogised and sanctified
By a paradox.
Condolences or a Kiss
The indignation
Expected joys rejected
Dejection then this.
