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Michael John Aug 2024
i
i

to wait patiently
to construct a moment..
to play a full note

beauty and faith..
a heavy load
take´s courage..

heaven in hell
and vice-versa
to wait at a door

ii

for a yes or no
to be paid
for an echo..

a coin tossed into
a well
or just the plain boredom..

to be terse
in a verse
in a poem..

or just bite the paintwork
or sin
(later regret-)

iii

to be lugubrious
or happy
to howl in

a nonchalent
unaffected by it all
kind of a style..

iv

hello?!happy!
what are you doing here?
waiting for you-!

and through..
into what..
that is closed..
Michael John Aug 2024
i)
i)

well..down at the
pickled, it is quite still,
(after happy hour some tears, perhaps..)

johnny crash, and the sad rehearse,
you aint nothing but a hound dog!
ernie,lone star, on the dance-floor

with a move reminiscent of
travolta
threatens to throw a hip..

ii)

a god points at a silver star-
edna and gb take their drinks to
a quiet corner..

do you remember..?!some
laughter..two heads close but
not too close

silhouettes
like shy flowers..
time´s illusionary petals

iii)

fall away..
well, quite a long time ago..
(but behind and in the window

happy stands-like
hal in the lip-reading scene
of 2001..)

iv

*** the doorman approaching
with his raffle-tickets
but they seem like

they have won
a cruise to a sunny horizon
do you guys need refreshing?

no,we are fine-not a cloud,
johnny sings of a thing called love
and even the sad are smiling..

iv

a happy ending..
he makes his way to the door
*** is solid-gone

happy waits patiently
sniffs his paw
he will go say, howdy..
Michael John Aug 2024
i
i

an old flame?!
is that not-just
la juste mot..?

how many years,
edna,
since we last met..?

ii

you look the same!?
o ****!?-
no,not changed a bit..

(grumpy puts his game
face on-)
may be we could sit

iii

play-catch-up..?
mossy on down memory lane
yup..?

a smile so pretty enough
of assent-yes,
i would like that..

iv

but watching at the
corner
stood the pup from hell

and his eyes are not red
but sea-green..
well..
Michael John Aug 2024
so,
i

so,look here´s five pounds
have yourself a drink
thanks mum-
be sure to keep happy-
in...

yes,he´s in the shed-
shall i give your hat
a brush?
yes,here, in the shed-

crying for the antecedents!
running with the pack
wild as the mountain!
see the moon past..

ii

grumpy heads to the
pickled gherkin-jeanie,
from over the way-
brings a bottle for

strictly, and happy
worms his way out of
captivity-he is a good boy!?
they order in..

lin **** on delivery-
crispy seseme chicken
at the door of sweet
aroma-happy, sees his

iii

chance..!..past the fried rice
and prawn *******-
past the soya sauce and
fortune cookies-

(past, for the wise is past..)
the double exclamation-
at the gherkin grumpy chats
with lug-
gubrious ***..

(the doorman..)
when serendipity does
a thing..
edna?!...is that you?!

o grumpy boots..
what was the song..
long past..
but there, in their eyes..echoes..
Michael John Aug 2024
poetry is a very wide stream
like being amusing
or write about death
but the two are not mutually
exclusive-the same h20..
if you will..

you might be accused of morbity
or trivuallity
sometimes you can´t win
i mean what actually is the point
i can´t feel your pain
perhaps i lack empathy
you pay the bill..

what you do is what you do
one of seven billion
i write and read on a completely
personel level-an artist..
you are a soul sure but so
am i..unless we have talent
we don´t..simple..
Michael John Aug 2024
i
i

ok..an intriguing title
for a slim volume-how
did it go-biographical-
neither question but wile-
a tune  that taunts the
periphery..
what you think happy..
(yes,i could get my teeth
into that)..i laid out your
cowboy-suit and gave your
boots a once over with the pledge..
(how many times..)your dinner is
in the micro...

ii

i sent a poem to the new yorker
once..
it was called, love hunger..

now in the mirror-i am joe buck
not much of a cowboy but...
Michael John Aug 2024
i

boredom or death
is one not t´other?
death is boring..

and boring is..
(well,it´s not betjeman
but betjeman was boring..)

ii

our protagonists take the
scenic way-
past the old and infant
enjoying the sun and fluffed up

ducks..pointing to wonder
their love and innocence..
not so much hair nor teeth
but a fine day

many have gone and many
to come the green and breezes
infinite prayer..
happy..

grumpy ruminates-perhaps one
day,
i will be published and fame
be a spike in my guts..

to make a difference,ah,
we are home-mum..!
were back..i am hungry
how did it go..?
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