Maybe it's just because I'm bleeding inside
Or it's because I'm no body and cannot be found
Or it's the bad luck that is always by my side
Or it's the wound that hurts and won't subside
Or it's the skies that never rain nor have a cloud
Or it's my green fields that I love but never find
Or maybe it's just who I am, a man with no pride

Shut
Both
Eyes
And
See
With
Other
Eye

(20 minute poetry)

You've got to be kidding
the weekend just slid in
and now
it's at an end?

It came
I saw
and I hanker after more,
tell me
what the hell am I working for
if
it's not for Friday to come.

Monday and I'm numb
don't feel no pain,
and
only work to chain
me down to
London.

Friday and I'll go out on the town
again
cast off that chain again
and party.

Cut my tongues from the scriptures and on blank walls I'll draw pictures because in a room full of lonely there is only myself.

I read Romans and the Acts came before them,
talked with Ruth who knew all of the bad men,

So
In this land of Canaan I'll be slain then?
and what of Goliath?
Samson's got him in a headlock,
Delilah's going to give him a haircut
and the Baptist will read all a sermon.

A bit fanciful to suggest Beau Geste, but a young fräulein from Mannheim calls for the check
I think what the heck,
Geste
can stay  in.

it's a walk on the plateau and you know we all want too
some do
some try
some don't even bother
and I don't
want to know why.

A streamer hangs down lifelessly,
the party is over for you
and for me
the ice cream has gone
the candies have too
all that is left
is
me holding you
and the party is over
we
had lots of fun
we danced in the moonbeams
and ran through the sun

we tasted so much
touched even more
it's time to go home now
time for
closing the door.

I took a photo
so I'd know
that Tinkerbell
was really there
but
now
although I've looked
both high and low
I can't find that photo
anywhere.

It's interesting in an uninteresting way
that over the pond in the
great U S of A
a debate rages on
Trump versus Clinton
Clinton and Trump

wish they'd both go and jump
in the Hudson.

I wonder who's going to win
how will the dime spin
or
will it land on an edge?

The rainbow fell into the consommé,
the night turned the day and the
cards went my way
it was normal some say in
the madhouse

and then there was work
the foibles, the quirks
the bright sparks
the gormless
the sharks

and while Hawkin's talking of quarks
and quasars
all I get
is quizzical, looks from the
bar staff and waiters.

It's no wonder the soup's getting cold
and less wondering why
because it all seems so old
or could be it's
possibly me.

Life,
the set of rules,
the algorithm
that fools
everyone.