Threatened curiosity rhymes better than I
A panic attack infused with sinusitis
Willesden digs clang its tentacles
into blobbed concrete.
Cringing as I walked by
Anita scrawled her unsavoury - mercy.
She could not endure a Son of a Publican
on a weekend jolt,
a hand washed duvet potested,
pitch and putt compressed
too many red lines crossed.

She grieves for me
silently
cries for me inwardly
puts a smile on her face and
goes on.

I'm not gone,
I am
just resting my eyes.

Time
inches slowly along and yet
finished before me.

Where once I was strong is but
a distance of memory bringing
back to me
that she grieves for me.

Outwardly
it feels the same,
but I tire of the game and
am anxious to wake.

I sleep on
I am not gone
I'm just resting my eyes.

I kneel to genuflect
which I suspect
is a waste of time

I take the time anyway
to kneel and pray

thinking,

It's no use closing a door

I genuflect some more
and then I'm done.

If a God exists other than on Olympus
willing to protect us
able to contact us
I'd like to meet him or her or it and sit and chat a bit about things.

Thoughts random;

If a bird sings in the Amazon
does a glass menagerie shatter in Willesden?


Someone held me close through the endless day, the weeping night
it might have been God.

In time I'll know, but there's a nagging in my heart, a suggestion that the knowing's just the start of it
I think I'd like to sit a bit and chat with God a bit
about things.

Willesden - from a cab -
is vein-blue at four-o-two
transfusion complete

No one wants it
but
everyone gets it.

Tuesday comes and
it will go
sometimes fast
most times slow
but
the older I get
the more I let
it go.

I could terminate at
Willesden
and then what?

This carriage is like the marriage
of Figaro performed in slow motion
or
it could be if they were singing out loud.

the costumes are amazing,
someone's out to get their days work in
before they go out
on the town.

Hi-vis jacket man
wants to be seen
wonder if he terminates
at
Willesden Green.


Moans from her stereo
headphones on autoglow
blue light flash.

More sounds now,
a cough and
some sneezing
we're all being squeezed in

( Do I look fat in this? )

Haha
a schoolboy reads
' the picture of Dorian...
..storm clouds got their eye
on him.

She
opens up the deadlocks on
her waist length *******
dreadlocks
and
shakes her head in joy.

I get off at Bond Street
not to be confused
with
Pond Street
which as you know is at
Hampstead.

Catch you on the flip side
when I take the next ride
which will probably be
on the Jubilee.

I deleted the previous poetry
didn't want you to see
what I write sometimes on
the jubilee,

this lines a bit quieter
than the Central,
but takes a bit longer,
nevertheless
I'll get there
just later.

for those or you
who
don't know me
count yourself lucky.

My fellow commuters and I
are only trying to get by,
note:
some of my fellows are females,

I wonder how many more
Stan's
live in Stanmore,
Kings in Kingsbury
Queens in Queensbury
or Will's in Willesden.

When I wonder too much or
too far it seems like each
passing star flashes past
me,
I wonder if I should delete
this poetry
wish for some clarity
beg for your charity
or go back to bed.


Lots of girls doing their make up
making up for lost time
faking it on the
jubilee line.

She doesn't think it's too
early to be drinking
Red Bull
I'm fairly certain that
she ain't going to fly

still trying to get by
and I'm not getting
no younger.

Willesden Green?
never been
don't know where it is
and this train
terminates there

something new every day.

The several stations beyond
the green seem to have
dropped off the map.

I nearly dropped off to sleep,
but my ears were hanging on
to every word being said.