None of those present

gets ever interrupted --


when they're all talking.

There strolls another father,
Scrolling while his daughter
Rides her stroller as they stroll.
He really oughtn't scroll,
She's awake as they stroll;
It's a stroller, not a scroller.

The purpose of a stroll,
Is to walk and talk the prattle,
The speach that infants rattle
While strolling in their stroller.

Sing to your child,
Stroll all the while,
Hum or whistle,
Mumble……..Grumble;
But don't silently scroll on,
While strolling with the stroller.

Recall childhood rhymes, if you can,
Say the ABCs or count to ten;
Talk of little piggies and brazen toads,
Meaningful memories,
And yellow brick roads.

Enjoy your strolling.


Enjoy your scrolling.

Sitting at a table in a pub with some other people who look really upset, nay
   aghast at something I've just said
And I have this ventriloquist's Dummy on my
   knee
His nose is very red as are his ears, even his
   cheeks have a reddish tint
And he has this crazy wild look on his face
And he's also wearing this funny disjointed jacket which has all these very
   flamboyant colours on it
Just like the colours of all the Bottles of
   Spirits hanging over at the Bar

And I'm there and I'm pointing at the Dummy
   explaining to the other people
"It wasn't me, it was just the Drink talking!".

You are a huge O mouth
Open and yawning like a sink hole
Yelling absurd answers to simple questions
Your breath a cloud of steam
That freezes in the night air
Raw laugh, loud like a hyena

To those who talk but never think
An exhausting mouth eating oxygen
Eating and eating
Emitting opinions
The tongue in perpetual motion
The jawbone still chattering
Your mouth can run marathons
Silenced into a stupor
I sit here and say nothing
Pretending to listen

Rack my brains
Rake through and find the right memory
Tip it out, squeeze and shape it
Mold it to a more sensical form
Then, observe your consumers
Subtle changes
Until it becomes almost an original story
Forgo accuracy for entertainment
More colourful, less accurate

it all started with a single hi
three days, three nights
of unstoppable phone conversations
life lessons from three decades
of each other's existence
then, one midnight
you drive past the city lights
to meet me on the other side..

Just to add to what John said
with regards to the points
raised by Emily when she echoed
the arguments presented earlier
by Kevin

Without overlooking
the guidance that was reiterated
by the Deputy Director
about the need
for swift action from us

I propose we form a committee
composed of people in this meeting
who will meet later
to put the issue on the table

cut it open with a scalpel
expose the underlying problems
analyze and put it back with nine stitches
then we can report
that the first draft
is ready

We sit on the edge of conversation
Hands clasped, feet shuffling anxiously
Eyes darting across the room like
the stars in the night sky
You lean back with a sigh
and I catch you.

Hands together, knees bent
fingers touching skin
Tracing outlines of mountains on the map you offer me
You look up from my gaze and a calmness falls across your face
The corner of our eyes don't wonder but meet
Times entangled in the feast before us
I raise a leg and your knee greets my feet.

Waters greet these feet,
Waters that rage on and under us
Washing over our bodies like the light that’s wrapped itself beside us
Bodies become one in the heat of the den that we've made
In the depts we've paid
The depths we've obeyed
The trust we've displayed

Down by the rivers where the whomping willow weeps,
where the waters run ramped, and the wild things wonder
wonder about life, wonder about death
run through your mind son, be absent, be bold
just don’t forget that the water man reaps
reaps in what is sown, sold and told

whispered. whispered like silence on the edge of the wind
the wind that howls through the corner of beauty
there where it stays and sits for a while,
as the man, he stands, waiting watching on duty.
I look back to you, your face changed by the cut of a smile.

A smile.
That smile, that warms my soul like summer breeze,
Wraps me up and takes me in from the cold
You don't even realise, you do it with such ease
You do it now when we're young and you'll do it when we're old.

We sit, once again, as we used to, but more alone
Hands together, fingers crossed, in utter isolation
It’s such a wild thing, wild life that we’ve known
And none of it is ripe for an explanation.

Feet dancing on the edge of contemplation
This information that we use for the source of our meditation
Imagination sparks conversation but also speculation
So, what are we to do when there’s no confirmation?
A shout shuddering in the darkness of creation
Thinking of the combination, representation and motivation for these words when all I ever wanted was a simple conversation.

The radio in my mouth is broken
The tuner slides from the channel
It's set
And I'm forced to listen
To others words
In rhythms I hate

The radio in my mouth is broken
The sound is full of noise
And its volume jumps
At the worst times
When I can't speak
Over it

The radio in my mouth is broken
The power button is difficult
And dramatic
It fails in good company
When I need it most
And surges to life
Late at night

So I listen to the songs it plays
To no one but myself
Words and melodies
Wriggle through clenched teeth
While I stare at the ceiling

The radio in my mouth is broken
So I look at others
And they at me
As we listen
Together
To what it plays