GARAMUUU

POEM-Out on the tiles

I’m waiting in the queue

not knowing what to do

deliberating on showing my ID before 

those bouncers ask me to

and I’m just minding my own business

in line with all these drunken friends

hearing the clinks of ends of drinks

getting sunk down like water through sinks

just so sober the night already feels over

while floating like a boat on a sea of slur

and some boys go toe to toe over there all crazy

buzzing like bees fists clenched heavy 

breathing with a wheeze and eyes  bloodshot squeezed and seething

punches breezing by curse words lofting like leaves

boys trembling at the knees getting  hurt 

with unsteady stance resembling

some newborn donkeys

while I make it  inside the music heaves

everyone’s elbowing me

I guess accidentally 

no apologies just a smile

swung out like a trapeze

I’m barely there before I want to leave

this neon lair and breathe outdoor air as if it  were relief

but I paid a tenner in to those robbing thieves

so I kinda have to wait and see 

bobbing around uneasily while time freezes

feeling queasy blearily 

and then my sight bends when I see a girl 

looking back at me 

with the space between us a whirl 

or all kaleidoscopey

then all I do is hope she might approach me

all shyly as if she knows I’m the type already

as if she knows that I’m right but too heady

but my thoughts have only been bought

from the window shopping of her eyes

so I’m confused  while my mind hops high

but then I might lose if I try 

but I might die otherwise

so maybe I’ll get through what lies between us

and then I’ll woo her without a fuss

yet I’m full of doubt and thus

I bet by that time she’ll have sussed me out

I bet..

POEM-Solpemumopp

In standing still

with the crackling smile of bricks

slung river melting off

and all the various pretendings beside.

Laughs drunk up from the grass

little thunders of these slow shoes 

all going away from the main 

thing that trips out

like a hyper robber

late or early when crows cry 

and all the things to think climb their ladders.

POEM- Old POme

whatever might come into my head
like a draught running and gusting under a door
in a dark winter with  cold orange streetlights 
powdery like powdery lilac nights 
with the dying light curling up from beyond
somewhere past that thin horizon
that important line that signals the boundaries for all 
we might see and know
because it only stretches  so far
before it snaps 
like violent elastic bands
that whip back and lash my hand
leaving the tip of my fingers red and throbbing
throbbing like thick pain
like a migraine
a thunderstorm going on in my head
booming and  crashing and raging away
quite destructive  
like a cocky tornado
blowing into town  throwing everything upside down
lives turned upside down
that drop and land the wrong way
that sickening crack
that taps the air around it 
because air is impressionable
bad air good air 
air of suspicion
great sparks of conspiracy
that you can nearly smell
you can nearly sniff out 
and hook out 
and get out in the open 
with the delirious spotlight on it all
all black and white contrast shades
black and white like
panthers and polar bears
ferocity , all teeth and sharp claws
and ferocious minds
ferocious ways, ferocious dreams
that span out and cover so much
maybe too much
people could be wanting too much out of life 
casting the net too wide
or maybe not ,maybe we are all too small
too much similar to specks 
or bits of dust that float on heat
in old rooms
old neglected rooms
the floor boards warped and damp
the paint peeling itself off
but the memories of all it once was for someone
still rebounding quietly off those old walls
like echoes
ringing out and back
maybe it all echoes forever
and we cant hear it
inaudible stuff 
crazy high hertz and hushed whispers
passed along all in secret
so unknown and not seen
like gutter water that trickles down through a dark alley
the sky above and around burning in lights
and the shrieks from tomcats fighting big cat fights
all at dusty midnight in any glum city or town
full of fast cars and spare eejits
who hang around
wearing their persona, watching the sad world revolving slowly round them
the kind of way a cup turns in a microwave
some turn like this 
and groan and warm and cool
from hot to cold
from one extreme to the other
swinging back and forth 
a pendulum of extremities
polarities
a slip slide  
back and forth
yo yo mechanics
the drop, spin
and climb back up again
and come back down
from the top of the slide
miles above anything
falling through the empty sky
along with heavy  language
annoyed 
that the words 
are too dull mashed
passed out 
ways of describing things
drunk neurons
like  blinking lightbulbs
their noise
in an empty clinical hallway
blink blink
a sterile time and place
in that glassy white jungle
the busy hospital
people lying on trolleys
cries
me 
bedridden
the awful food
the hawk eyed nurses
the dark doctors
i cannot hear them
but i know i am being talked about
things being decided for me
all prearranged
and prepared
like a lion hiding in tall grass
hugging the ground
paws pressed against the dust 
that is animated by the wind
ready to pounce
chemically and biologically and physically
ready 
staring down at everything and all
its own very survival
its next score
the scores we all score
we score 
food, drugs people goals
but do we ever win
we might call it a draw
and shake hands on it 
and nod in a quiet way
but there’s no glory in that
no applause 
no celebration
no reason to celebrate
or maybe reason to celebrate
the little things to 
stop and marvel at
leaves blowing in the wind
water dripping from a tap
a flower opening its face to 
the mother sun
the great burning ball
teetering over our heads
pouring its glare down 
down in heated gushes
that rise and simmer back off the ground
in waves
in the near distance
on grey black roads
that old cars rip along on
blazing in the night
on a getaway
but cannot just getaway
by getting away
you get to another place
its never total escape
rather closing one door behind you
and opening another
creaking the unoiled hinges on wooden doors
with layered licks of paint
now white and shining
nostalgically white
because that door is gone
and the opening is now bricked up
and barricades
in razes of barbed wire and mounds
and sickly war 
paraphernalia
infer the memories
from old metal
and dying wood
dead petrified wood
like a fossil
a rocky encapsulation
with life and death and whatever happened next
etched and kept perfect
kept pristine
crystal chandeliers
that shine and  fragment luxury light
on the supposedly good and great
the suited ones attending gala balls
soft hard men
with stoney minds
and simple souls
who dance slowly
and goose step through life to that
one set universal beat
of easy acceptance 
flock 
be white sheep
scared of the dogs and the noise of difference
it might hurt the ears 
the ear drums
the correlation 
of free noise to our minds
the correlation of 
free molecular burning
that warps to colour for our eyes
for our viewing pleasure
but why
why is grass green
sky blue
harvest fields yellow
not for sure
only our minds telling us so
leading us in sense
in every way
can we help but believe it
what else then
when you hold your hands up and rock your head back
and sigh
in a defeated accent
to things accept as truths 
they are sore
they are truths at a loss
their false versions are easier to get by with
less less difficult
as easy as one two three
four five six seven eight nine
and whats so special about the ninth cloud 
i would love to walk on clouds
get lost on that high cotton world
and look down on earth as something
small and inconceivably simple
watch migrating masses of birds fly below me
commercial airliners jet past under my nose
while the tightly fitted air hostesses
trolley food up and down the plane
the child cries rage in front of someone who couldn’t afford business class
but now wishes he could
condensation freezes on the window
only to eventually melt when the plane lands by the tropics
on a grassy runway
to a land populated by red wooden shacks,dark mysterious people,
loud animals,swaying moist trees,jungle livelihoods
out in the open
in the elements
with a breeze reddening the cheeks
of my face  out here, high in the nowhere area of  people’s thoughts
cold high depths
grizzly shades of trees 
twigs
berries sweetening
in natural time
dominated by giant forces
great tilting planet
and the shutters of incoming and outgoing days
as it spins
slowly
like how an owl will turn its head
slowly
in the forest night
with moonlight peeking in
through the spines of trees
and the night groans
of nocturnal mysteries
dark velvety nights
can those hoodlum winds
pick me up 
and take my light self 
through the sky avenues
through alleys of the space between
the air masses
the thunders 
and the achings of hot air
their troubles
their dark greyness and buckets of ocean water
carried onto land
peppered on the green grass
rolling off the slick backs of ducks
dripping onto the tongue of a happy person
splashing off the edges of leaves
hitting against the thin window of a cottage
stuck in the rugged wilderness
of somewhere
where  hardened lives are ticking on
wound from birth
that industrial cycle of life giving
kinks and motors and cogwheels
and sad ragtime
people stuck in the midst of what could have been
in their sepia memories
those people in their mind’s loved up kaleidoscope
yes they see reflections of them in ponds, their Narcissus to their loves
all illusion
or reality
or real illusion
or
whatever

POEM- OHVVhfOGUAGDAUO

thesunissunny

everypeachthoughtfindingstone

overhaulinglaughswhenthingsgetfunny

eachblinkofeyeshaveflown

pingponginspine

likelemurstareontreesthatsmell

madalertspinningdownvine

notthatdroppingoffwouldbeafell

thefootstepsrunny

andfastforgetfulifunknown

butifonstairsitshoppingbunny

eachsoundclosertoandnotalone

POEM- poem from an itchy head

lying on a pillow like lumpy porridge dozing away tomorrow

lovers get full of each other and its dull for me to harbour

like a slush of deepwater or a drunk out of towner

you took the last few blinks of my eyelashes that wanted to close like velcro

you had feet that day that i never noticed walk that way  feet that weren’t followed

feet falling away from the directions of yesterday or any day other where reflections

lived in our round young faces and thoughts hovered above us in the air of graces

now the doves hate us and there are places that forget and have lost our traces

now the hours scour by running races with each bringing the luggage along times

so strong holding me in long nights or flinging me along the lights blurs scolding my eyesight

and its not wrong to feel alright though how harsh can it be

though now know it won’t be easy seeing how its a show of hands that can be the difference

between it coming down to it being all breezy or becoming bad banality

THING ABOUT-Cycling

I really really like to cycle around the place.Whenever I do cycle now I tend to go off for a couple of hours around the countryside trying to find some new castles. I learnt to cycle when I was five or so. I have vague memories of that. I used to be really good at pulling skids on my old bike when I was young.  A few of us would do tricks in the shop car park when the sun had set. Once the brakes on my bike went as I was going fast down a hill. I ended up in a ditch with the handlebar pressed into my tummy. It hurt so much.  My favourite bike was my old red one that I painted red. The last time I went cycling I cycled to county Mayo somewhere. Two sheepdogs chased after me.

ahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahah

aaaaaaaaaaaawhhhhhh

aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh

gaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh

aaaaaaaaarrrrrrghhhhh

waaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh

haaaaaaaaaaahahhhh

nanahanaahnahnahhh

muhuahwaahahahahh

yeeeaaaahhhhhhhhh

wuuuuuuuuuuuuuahh

POEM-Vacuum Poem

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THING ABOUT- Feeling Weird

Sometimes I feel weird. It can happen at any time really. Sometimes when alone staring at a wall or sometimes around others. I felt weird earlier on today. That was the last time I felt weird. I had just come out of the shower and put on clothes and sat down doing nothing in particular.  I wondered whether or not I should eat a dinner and wondered about lots of other things. I was very warm and dizzy from the hot shower also. It felt a bit weird.

POEM thrrrrrrrrrrrr

theres a girl playing with her hair as if she was holding onto the ropes of  a swing

theres a guy with a hat two big for his head studying anatomy

theres a guy with his headphones on upside down wondering whether or not he should get on with his essay or talk to his best friend

theres a mature student smoking and coughing out the smoke like a sick chimney

theres a girl wearing a floral dress writing big loopy letters with her hand that has trial runs of foundation on it

theres a little boy sighing under the weight of his thomas the tank engine bag

theres a guy drinking coffee and remembering the argument he had last night before he went out and got drunk

theres a girl sitting down eating chips off the path

theres an old man surrounded by old pictures of him on the farm with his late wife

theres a baby who just realised farting is funny

theres a guy eating carrots and drinking white wine alone in his room 

theres a girl feeling embarrassed and squinting her eyes as if to squeeze the shame from her mind like a wet towel

theres a girl who stretched a muscle in her leg from leaping away from a cocky pidgeon

theres a guy crying to himself for no real reason other than he hasnt cried for a very long time

theres an old woman sipping tea and remembering her first time that she camped out in the forest near her childhood home 

theres a guy giving his last ever handshake to his uncle

theres a guy who just bit through his strong thumbnail with his canine teeth

theres a child hiding behind a couch and playing with the dust

POEM Ping Pong

playing ping pong 

i think im doing it wrong

playing ping pong

i think im doing it wrong

i hit it too long 

now its gone gone gone

hit it too long

now its gone gone gone

so long ping pong 

i wrote you a song

so long sing song

i sang it with ping pong

now its gone gone gone

now its gone gone gone

now its gone gone gone

HAIKU- ripping my pants

earlier i tried 

to do a karate kick

and i ripped my pants

HAIKU -BOYS

boy boy boy boy boy

lots more boys that boy boitzu

big boy boying boys

hwehwehwhewhewhewhewhewhewhewhewhewhe

POEM blob

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bloooooooooob

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