this poem identifies
as a block of cheese

its pronouns (today)
are whem and whey

I search faces without knowing the goal,
Do your lips turn up easy or do you smoulder like coal.
Does your hair have a mind of its own
Or is it slim and controlled never causing a moan.

My heart leaps at smiles
When they show in the eyes
You see id wade for swamps for miles
Just to skirt round the lies.

Ive been hurt before
But never so much as the days im unsure
Of whether ive met you
Or only some distraction on the path to.

Will you look upon the night sky with wonder
And think of me with prayer
When you are out and take shelter from the thunder
At a bus stop or awning with lightning in the air.

Woll my heart endear at first all warm and cheesy
Or will you be composed, cool, going easy
I ask myself these each night when my bed lies empty
Like a puzzle missing pieces or a feast without plenty.

One day maybe soon i wont have to anymore.
I wont have a goal seaching faces on the store
Or look at stars and ponder
What stellar fire you are under.

I will know the ins and outs of your smile
And hold your hand amidst joy and trial
Your hair will claim possession of my clothes
And your words refresh me as a hot day and the wind blows.

Though not now and God only knows when.
So ill simply say God bless. Till then.

The fat, the grease,
of these in between days
stills my pen a little

So even if I wrestle
with another monumental year tick,
like the crack of doom

I look at the stuff in the fridge
and shrug

The existential crisis can wait
til the brie is done
and the crackers
have gone soft

imagine a brick box lined with paint where
zebra and lip-red walls wobble as I
rest my forehead in a coiling of arms
on the stubborn palm of this plastic chair—
I feel you singing singing slow as I
build myself a night wide

where water rises up like bread;
and turn all students to fish and
turn all chatter to bubbles
that slide and collide and settle by the roof
and settle and settle
undying till the room
is a pomegranate cursed with fertility, and I
dare not gasp lest another bubble
should— press and press

imagine a blue sea bubbling like
sugar that melts and melts and
melts and melts
in the slowly-shrinking pan
I shut my ears
and build myself a silence and I
feel you right here
— a few rows behind—
our separate solitudes tangled up

a song faint as feathers, as fire
lit up; as the fish babble on—
your sea-creatures whirling: and
corrals’ tickling devours
that clothe me in Magic—

imagine peach-pink lips
that smile— dragonflies swishing by
imagine buzzes that they leave to sway
in the blushing airs, imagine
grasses fluttering their pompous lashes
imagine— oh, and

a paradox of suns that
pulls me in— prickling eyes
black and brown as cocoa in coffee and
soft as foam— yet suns, you see!
I dare not see, yet return
and return I stumbling do,

skin feasts in sweetness
of a warmth serene, and
the taste lingers all day long—
swear in stars are whispers of you
tossed to constellations' lively tales
and misty dreams shroud lazy mornings
where I and you and all
the unshed covered faces of ours
are free to sprout, where we
cling to limbs and limbs in
the deep rich beds of our soils

I lift my head as the teacher enters
and I know the water you
breathe in too
the churning viscosity presses in in

your swift silver thoughts
drowning in noise— and no one is listening
to the teacher—
my iron neck I twist to glance your way
fast as the flickering tail of a squirrel, yet
you clasp me still
— there—
the clack as breaths lock and hold

you sit all alone and, oh, do I—

I wish I could stand up and swim my
way to you
'hey, this seat’s empty, right?
mind if I sit?'
your orange 'yes' or maybe a leaf-like
nod, or a gust of shrug perhaps
then we talk and talk with
the fish all rest, and maybe we forget the smother
maybe we forget the fish

but I— a statue sunk centuries ago
waves kiss my valour and lure it away
star-shapes settling on my tongue
******* out words, and—

heart a squid blooming and clenching
I curse the idol I have built of myself
sit and sit I sessile a stone and
try not to drown, try not to drown
to boil to bleed or scream a soundless bubble alright
you, the fantastical, faraway land resting

a glimmer motionless where sea
licks the void, where children go
when there is nowhere to go,
where I think I will row one day one day one—
can you tell I have a crush on you?
I hope not

take my hand and bless me a metaphor
wholly mine— or— maybe I could spin you a blossom as your
lovely gown teases the night—

alas, but here begins the teacher

Y'know whenever I go to my brother's to watch a football game
He always brings out a lovely big platter of cheeses, with a selection of crackers
This and some hummus, nuts and potato crisps
Along with a nice cold beer
He really likes his cheeses does my brother
Me! I don't mind a bit of cheese myself
But Him, he's a real connoisseur.
Anyway last  Christmas I was looking for a present to bring him
And in my local supermarket, guess what, they had these lovely big platters of various  cheeses
Wow! I was delighted, that was his present sorted
No more traipsing around shops, tiring my poor feet out
And this was a good present, something he'd really like;
So I brought the cheese home and put it in the fridge
Next morning I was up early sorting out the presents, who got what
Putting them in nice Christmasy type bags
I then packed them in the car and took off,
An hour later I'm sitting at their table and we're talking about some poor celebrity movie star who's just passed away
Their saying he had some Brain disease, just like Alcheimers except it wasn't Alcheimers
My brother's wife is there trying to articulate, to explain
"It's like his brain had holes in it"
And I'm thinking "Holes in the brain, hmmm... just like...like a Swiss cheese"
Then, of course, I remember. "****!", I say out loud in front of them all,"I forgot the cheese, I left the feckin' cheese in the fridge"
Really ****** me off
Then I start thinking, that's actually quite funny
We're talking about Alcheimers disease and it reminds me I left the cheese in the fridge
What do you call that, is that ironic or what ?

What's a Paradox ? Sounds like a washing powder.

Wait! Is this a poem at all or am I in the wrong place ? (LoL)

Cupboards filling up
with stuff we can’t touch
like industrial sacks of dry roasted peanuts
and biscuits for cheese, specifically.
Seems this season of excess
begins with an interminable exercise in restraint,
where even one mince pie is missed.

From the usual desires within a store
From the potato chips that don't call for you but still eat
From the shredded cheese that only seems delectable at
2:00 am

There is nothing in this world we wouldn't crave
For we are the ones who have slept through sleepless nights
For we that have been addicted to the nectar that is known as
coffee
And For we that has been blessed with
Lusus Naturae

But remember, That even if we were blessed.
The ill will wish for us
And we shall respond
as it is not our duty to do so

Instead, it is just the cravings that bond our blessings
and that we are one in the twilight

I got this adulation for cheese
Melted, grilled, or, chilled cheese
Burger and cheese
Mac and cheese
That's platter for the invitees
In the batter is egg and cheese
With a plate of cod and cheese
With a side of chips and cheese
Dish that is even eaten overseas
With top class curd goats cheese