there is a shortage of fuel
is all they heard as they
ran to the door car keys in hand
we are all doomed
"how will I get to the shops
go and see auntie Doris
drive to the gym
get to my golf tournament"
so they ****** the pumps dry
despite advice not to panic
they panicked
we are just short of drivers
there is enough petrol
to power you through the week
worrying about pollution
and going green
and how will it affect me me me
so tonight when you wait
for the takeaway
your taxi
the police
an ambulance
or fire engine
just remember
that trip is waiting to be made
in your selfish fuel tank

one day these hungry eyes of yours
will disappear in others:

that's what I count with –

potential pain is a gate to peace
when you'll go through wisely
you can find out
that a man is on the world
primarily alone
than in a company

such knowledge is dignified
it has courage, determination
humor
style too –

and after all
there are too many wars
to take care
of these little ones

you bet anyway, I'll keep trying to keep you
what a woman you are

Trees smearing past the window
Other cars streak past with snarls
Snippets of vitality springing forth before receding behind
A man cleans his car
Preparing for your now
But then he's gone
A girl grabs for papers in your breeze
You should help but she's already gone
A dog's barks precede
And then recede
Before your ride slows and the barks are not quite gone
At a stop and with a click
Dismount and leave the metal ride

So there.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMVI)


Yes, fire.  We plunked down on the fur rug thence
Afore her fireplace, and I in betrayl
Neglected to erm, lose me on its hale
And licking flames, e'en that romance' pretense
Was blind to--wherefore? Sandwiched for intents
Twixt two guy friends, I was too dull t'avail
Me even there, yea lost myself in pale
'Scuse in auld lines to Nigel, like's good sense.
Now Sunday watches diesel trucks roar fer
Sweet hours through lonesome country roads 'neath blue
Skies nary cloud is but a ghost in, poor
As saying.  I told a friend I'm as a melon you
Cleaned out, sans Mum, and what as twere
Is left?  LORD, give me Thy fruit.  And kids too?

11Mar18b

I sit down and smell innocence
Sunday afternoon, playing
Hide-and-seek on bikes,
Climbing over heaps and piles
Of extended-backyard-adventures
My friend looks at me scared
Worried about crashing mid-air
I only think of home
Sticky black poison that
Almost strangled me to death
Once, when life was simpler
Despite all that I smile
At diesel and benzene
Exhaust smog and fumes
Turn blue skies even brighter
High on childhood dreams
If only I inhale, deep enough
A scent that takes me back
Over miles of detachment
And oceans of growing up
A memory fuming of
Family and safety,
Only needing a engine
To move forward in life

I walk down a broken street in search of my Promised Land,
I'm on a mission from God and my God's name is ******.
In the distance I can hear the gunfire,
I'm in a holy war, my sergeant’s named desire.
I walk past other junkies nodding out against a wall,
We're fighting the same cause, fighting against withdrawal.
I reach my destination, I talk with the man,
I hand him twenty dollars, he puts my God in my hand.
****** you must be God for everything I do is for you,
I'd crawl ten miles on broken glass for you.
I'd sell my soul, my family and friends for you,
If you asked me to sell myself, I'd do that too,
You can see I'm truly nothing, nothing without you.
But if you’re really God, you leave me confused,
At times I feel like I've really been used.
You leave me shivering when it's not really cold,
Unable to walk and I'm not even old.
You leave me penniless when I'm not even poor,
You leave me feeling beaten, aching and sore.
You take away my pride, my looks and my health,
Make me lie to my family, my friends and myself.
Although for you I have dedicated my life,
What have you done for me except stabbed me with a knife?
I look in the mirror at my own bloodshot eyes,
I stare at a man whose world is all lies.
I think about my past and start to realize,
You’re not a God at all, but the Devil in disguise.