Quick, since home
Peeps in view
The oscillations
Become familiar
The feeling
Of conclusion
Fills the body

I am watching
The rear view eyes
Deep in scrutiny
The poor sky shuffles
Its feet, cloaks
Itself

Swift tides move
And the laces of the road
Move with them
I fidget on my seat
Hear the violent music
Rise behind us

Quick, now, the storm
Is on its way
Soon, the world
Will start its run
Trees are looming
Already, and
The door to home
***** like a wing

Stop, now, stop and
Rush through
Bar the windows,
Blind them, shake
The fireplace awake
And, little fly, bake
Your biscuits and read
Your books, till the edge
Of day breaks
And clever dust
Lulls you to sleep

Quick, quick, quick.

But the rear-view eyes
Leap upon me
Precise as leapords,
Prying, plying
With sharp disquiet
Cold rain tusks
And I speed
Reckless forward.

Do not come to me to comfort
I am strange and I can say nothing
I can say nothing as might soothe
Your electrical worry or doubts

I am a chocked word, suddenly
Teary. The lip quivers, the eye
Crinkles, and hands begin to move
To try and hide a thousand things

I am shuffle, snort, stumbled
Through the hard-edged streets
Shadows curve upon me, but
Move unstopped nonetheless

Do not stop, stare, ponder kindly
I may break to a hundred bits
Of sordid limb and red, I may crumple,
May thin, I may really begin to weep.

May be dead,
But she lives in my memory everyday,
That was how much I loved her.
18/10/2023

Verboten


        Yes, I’m Irish but not

      related to Rick O’Shea,

    yet, my life is no different

    to that of an atomic poet.


  Sometimes I feel as though

   I am the bouncing bearing

   on a pinball machine, often

   parked similarly, on a *****


    Occasionally I am woken

    by flashing lights only to

         be told, game over,

  move on, camping verboten.

Twenty little sheets of paper
Some with one name, some with many.
Each a plea to God through Jesus
To be granted freedom from a need.

To be made well, to be set free,
To find the sun in a day of darkness,
To feel comforted in the wake of loss
To reach out and find a helping hand.

One at a time the names come in,
Sometimes maybe two or three.
Often their story is attached
But most assume that God will know.

My avocation is to pray for them
Unworthy as I know I am.
Why should Jesus listen to me
When I beg for things for someone else.

Weak and small as I seem to be
I offer prayer to meet their needs
And hope that Heaven answers us
And lifts me up with all the rest.
ljm

We are every bit as worthless
As the dirt is
But it grows
We just impose
And peddle
Influential
Genocidal droves
Is all we ever will accomplish
From the reaping
That we sow
Our own destruction seeds
Implanted
In enchantments of a scene
With ease
Entranced
By what askance
Dehumanizes us,
Machines

See me.
Just see me.
I'm more than a fantasy.

Here I stand, here I be standing before you so proudly.

Forget about any hurt that others bought to you.
I am here to erase everyone from your memories.

Yes, here I stand.
Here I be, call me your forever and you realize there will never be another.

Yes, here I stand, here I be the one that made you keep you so happy.

Considering hunger

    comes with eating

   and thirst goes with

   drinking this implies

    that neither of the  

    complications are

    chronic, therefore

a watery soup should

remedy both conditions.



Signed:


Dr. Pudgy O’ Bese.

HOPE*
That every problem has a
solution.
23/8/2023