A pulse is
something you can put your finger on,
but an impulse is something you go on,
an idea that takes you from here,

I was there once on the off chance
that here was a chance
but in the end there was
no chance,

I take no risks,
my finger's always
on the trigger,
safety off.

We have to be and play safe
this is no place for kitty cats
or scaredy cats
that's as plain as day.

Some breathe fear and
some breathe fire
I do neither,
ice folds itself in and
my skin is **** frost

nor am I lost or found
and
the only sound
is you telling me
another
crossword clue

the answer is in five letters

counting down from now
finger
trigger
some things are bigger
than
the moment.

(20 minute poetry)

This day,
what day?
Monday
that day!

On my way,
the pilgrimage to
work,
It is a sacrifice
which I make
five days a week

and two days shall I rest
one more than God,
quite odd
considering we think
that he knew best
or am I mistaken?

If the proof is in the pudding
'let them eat cake'

we need no validation
for this is
occupation
an occupation,
the formulation of a man.

I wear my armour like
a decongestant,
am I not a contestant
sitting out the race?
spitting in the face of
evolution.

and who cares who wins
anyway?


(Wrote this on the way to work and promptly forgot I had) Doh.

Caffeine
a pen
I yawn and then
yawn again

nothing flows out except
mothballs

cloth ears they called me
deaf to their pleas
but
I was as different as
chalk is to cheese.

I yawn once more while
weevils bore into my brain
and yawn again.

The snipers have got me
shot me on Monday
sometimes I wish
I was
Solomon
Grundy

then I fall
into the week
because I'm weak
or antique
couldn't hold on to
the
yawn again
dawning on me that
what I see is
what I'll be
by Friday.

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.