Gordon Fussey

Gordon Fussey May 2017

Didn’t think at all today
Ferreted around like a man possessed
Felt more pain like tooth decay
Couldn’t quite beat the sanity test

Then I retired to a darkly lit room full of empty promises.
There stood a woman seven foot tall.
She grew with positivity for my hopes.
Never before have I been overwhelmed by such magnitude.
Alas it was all too much.

Every thought signalled a fear within
Every night lasted twice as long
Once again the ****** phone offered no relief
And I wondered what went wrong

Gordon Fussey May 2017

On Your Behalf

Within four walls
I once again find
No love, no hope
No peace of mind

The thing I grab
To keep me up
Is burning hot tea
In a handle-less cup

Gordon Fussey May 2017

Lying Low

Never felt anything as soft
A wrong move could cause discomfort
The right move could find a dove aloft
A silent shout in a nightshirt

Did you call me did you call me?
Did you massage my favourite skin?
Were you there in quite despair?
Did you squeeze my freckles thin?

Rested limbs in fake release
Moving slowly back to position
Fine hairs on a powdered surface
A darting hand from the only decision

Blowing warm a gust of air
Rippled with a smile fit for a hyena
Chewing fat with a lovers flare
Lying low with a poets’ demeanour

Gordon Fussey May 2017

Grey Tree

Your hands were silver through the night
Two silk clouds of slowly moving light
Never before have I remembered so well
The picture of honesty, the opposite of hell

Fall on me forever was reasoned the plea
A request from a lover down on one knee
Set me forward with sanity and hope
Give me your mind and your body to cope

You’re the one I wanted there in the park
Let me down quickly if you’re there in the dark
You’re the dream I wanted, the one I never met
The leaf on the ground, the one to connect

Gordon Fussey May 2017

Two o'clock Again

Endless days of nothing
Ideas wrapped in a cocoon
Shame multiplied by laziness
Ingratitude mixed with false hope
Horizons blurred through tired lenses
And the insane are coming round for tea and biscuits

The custard cream disappears to the bottom of the mug
And twelve people cry themselves to sleep

Gordon Fussey Apr 2017

Esthers Mouth

Luck fell to the artisan
He stood head and shoulders above reason
No more will he venture ungainly into oblivion
Or into Esthers mouth
The man that argues indifference hears nothing
The mouth that offers tranquillity is lost
I never did listen to Esther myself
One ear deaf to the world
The other equipped with kitchen utensils
Happiness never came into it
Esther became the spare contact lens case
The outpatient’s appointment card
And everything beginning with the letter F
The artisan was a lucky man indeed

Gordon Fussey Apr 2017

Through The Gloom

Lay down at night, despair in hand
Another day without being touched
Another day you couldn’t stand
A perfect pillow perfectly clutched

Moments lost on giveaway lines
Another opportunity lost in a glass
Another reason made with signs
The usual shaky vile impasse

Gliding to relief and darkened joy
Another day to match the next
Another numbing mindless ploy
For sure a devil truly vexed