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"reorganise" poems
the kookaburra's shuffle, along the power lines like, wing-ed music, they organise and reorganise the day's riff. darting down, to pick a lizard morsel from the earth, recalibrates, the sound of maniacal mirth. shuffle down, shuffle down, hop across, and shuffle up swoop away, fly on in. all, accompanied by raucuos din. then they settle and they doze beady eyes open in repose. a pause in the clamour of the day's beat.
0
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 5:20 AM UTC
riff
These words are not mine These words are not yours No one owns them We can reorganise them We can restructure them Everyone can use them Some words mean everything Some words are meaningless No one can deny them. One Word to comfort. One Word to cause harm. These words have been regurgitated a trillion times before. We will use them again.
0
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 2:32 AM UTC
Words
I came home to an empty house To find that you were out, That you’d be home much later, then I hadn’t any doubt, But the day stretched into evening Without a sight of you, And you didn’t even call me Like you always used to do. When you’d not returned by midnight I was worried, and was stressed, I’d thought to call the police, but didn’t Know just what was best, You might have been embarrassed if I’d simply jumped the gun, And you came home unharmed to say: ‘I went out, having fun.’ The day stretched into weeks and still You never came back home, Though everyone was looking, saying ‘Jen’s gone off to roam.’ I couldn’t quite believe it for We’d never had a spat, Some evil had befallen you, I was so sure of that. A year went by of heartache but I hadn’t given up, The house became so lonely when I had to bite or sup, To say I cried a river for A year would understate, That desolation feeling that I’d lost my only mate. And then down on the jetty of A distant coastal town, I thought I saw your figure, with A man, and looking round, I followed you and caught you As you got into his car, But you had simply stared at me, ‘I don’t know who you are.’ The man was quite aggressive, said ‘You’re talking to my girl. You’d better not annoy us, I’ll Reorganise your world,’ I cried, ‘Don’t you remember me?’ And called her name out, ‘Jen,’ She simply stood and stared at me And said, ‘My name is Gwen.’ He dropped you at a hospital, I’d followed in the rain, And saw you go inside alone, While all I felt was pain, I waited till the man had left And went in through the door, Sought out the doctor tending you Up on the second floor. He said you had amnesia Were picked up in the street, That you had wandered aimlessly He thought, about a week, I told him how you’d left one day And walked out of my life, And that your name was Jenny, you Were certainly my wife. There wasn’t much that he could do, I’d visit every day, And talk about my life with you, You’d stare in your dismay, ‘My life was just a blank,’ you said, ‘Before you came along, But if I can’t remember you, To love you would be wrong.’ I left you there and went back home But gave you our address, And hoped that you would call one day, I couldn’t ask for less, And when you did, your eyes lit up, ‘I do remember now, I’d fallen out of love with you, And had to leave somehow.’ David Lewis Paget
0
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 12:46 AM UTC
Amnesia
I came home to an empty house To find that you were out, That you’d be home much later, then I hadn’t any doubt, But the day stretched into evening Without a sight of you, And you didn’t even call me Like you always used to do. When you’d not returned by midnight I was worried, and was stressed, I’d thought to call the police, but didn’t Know just what was best, You might have been embarrassed if I’d simply jumped the gun, And you came home unharmed to say: ‘I went out, having fun.’ The day stretched into weeks and still You never came back home, Though everyone was looking, saying ‘Jen’s gone off to roam.’ I couldn’t quite believe it for We’d never had a spat, Some evil had befallen you, I was so sure of that. A year went by of heartache but I hadn’t given up, The house became so lonely when I had to bite or sup, To say I cried a river for A year would understate, That desolation feeling that I’d lost my only mate. And then down on the jetty of A distant coastal town, I thought I saw your figure, with A man, and looking round, I followed you and caught you As you got into his car, But you had simply stared at me, ‘I don’t know who you are.’ The man was quite aggressive, said ‘You’re talking to my girl. You’d better not annoy us, I’ll Reorganise your world,’ I cried, ‘Don’t you remember me?’ And called her name out, ‘Jen,’ She simply stood and stared at me And said, ‘My name is Gwen.’ He dropped you at a hospital, I’d followed in the rain, And saw you go inside alone, While all I felt was pain, I waited till the man had left And went in through the door, Sought out the doctor tending you Up on the second floor. He said you had amnesia Were picked up in the street, That you had wandered aimlessly He thought, about a week, I told him how you’d left one day And walked out of my life, And that your name was Jenny, you Were certainly my wife. There wasn’t much that he could do, I’d visit every day, And talk about my life with you, You’d stare in your dismay, ‘My life was just a blank,’ you said, ‘Before you came along, But if I can’t remember you, To love you would be wrong.’ I left you there and went back home But gave you our address, And hoped that you would call one day, I couldn’t ask for less, And when you did, your eyes lit up, ‘I do remember now, I’d fallen out of love with you, And had to leave somehow.’ David Lewis Paget
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Daydreaming and Dissociating Dissociation is a way of transcending one's own boundaries, A feeling of weightlessness, of drifting in the viscosity of thoughts, Daydreaming as a kind of state without space and time, Lost in a Penrose triangle of emotions or feelings, Nothing endures there, at the same time everything is there, Like a library where the books only have empty pages, A concert without music, without sounds, without lutes, A meadow where no flowers grow or where flowers will never bloom, A journey without a destination, The body and mind reorganise, they change and adapt, In essence, dissociating is a kind of daydreaming, only much less pleasant, Daydreaming and dissociating fight for supremacy in me every day.
0
Mar 2, 2025
Mar 2, 2025 at 11:46 AM UTC
Daydreaming and Dissociating