I don't know where the day went
but it's spent and I'm skint,

no good hanging on to it
there'll be no use for it
in that other place,
which in my case
might be the fireplace.

The traffic outside is light
the night is getting dark
I think I might park
my face in a book
and
keep my engine running.

That sinking feeling must mean that it's now Monday,
someday, probably tomorrow, it won't be.

one cup of coffee before I'm off, he
says,
Monday's are always a rush.

I could 'pull a sickie'
but you know
that's not like me,
I'll take the slings and the arrows
and wait 'til the sun goes
down.

After midnight
when the memories of stars light the sky.

have you been there,
where the air is so clear that
you can hear yourself breathing?

you look at the heavens and
start believing,

I believe in
something that's greater, you can
call it the architect or call it the creator
but something far greater than this.

The English Charnel
of course,
he meant Channel
but he could have said
funnel or whirlpool
and we'd have known.
because
it's becoming the graveyard
of those poor souls
who fought hard
to get here
and
never made it.

Some meet the end as a friend
others meet it as a foe
the one absolute certainty is
we all must at some time go.

No change that I can see
it's just me being me.

Cappuccino
the Italian astronomer
drank his tea
unaware

but someone there
saw the
possibilities.

When we're unhooked
we'll all be unfriendly
hah
thought of an expletive
but too late.

Sunday
a day to contemplate
a day to wait for the sermons to end
a day to climb up
a day to throw up
another chance to grow up
I'm staying in bed.