What you see isn’t me
I’m not real – at least,
Not as you believe me to be.
But I have to portray
myself this way,
I have to withhold the truth,
And I have to suck it up
(even though it’s truly fucked up)
cause that’s what grown-ups do.
You see, all this duplicity
is not about protecting me –
that’d be a pointless thing to do.
I don’t need to believe
in this deceit.
But I must make sure that
another’s naivety endures.
I must ensure the sanctity
of youth.
(Inspired by #SableSwanV prompt ‘See Me’)
There’s a hole in the North Pole.
There’s a hole in the North Pole.
The blame goes on those pesky elves,
who one day took upon themselves
the task to get old Santa Claus
a device that might help warm his drawers.
Now, I know they had the best intentions,
(For poor Santa gets chilblains where I won’t mention)
But the fact is, elves just aren’t that smart
They’re practically useless (except at art),
Which is they decided that to warm Santa’s bum
They’d better go buy him a laser gun.
So Santa’s arse got toasty alright –
but so did his workshop, which caught alight,
Then just as quickly the flames abated
As the workshop fell into a hole created
by Santa’s amazing new laser gun
(which is really becoming a pain in the bum)
On the bright side, at least he’s got warm drawers now,
And it only cost him his job and his house…
(Inspired by #microprompt ‘North’)
Catch My Breath
Sometimes I hold my breath –
to try and stall my mind.
I need to put the breaks on
just to make it
bide its time,
Cause
it doesn’t heed the rest of me
– that struggles to get up to speed –
and so my meek and weak body
is often left behind.
And so I fret
that one day they might just disconnect
completely,
And I’ll find myself minus an identity,
Another formless entity
that’s forced to face eternity
out of sight
…and out of mind.
(Inspired by #BoHoDreamz prompt ‘Suspended Breath’)
Moths
Butterflies
get all the glory
whilst you
get all the blame…
They say
you’re drawn to the flame
to play there
quite unaware
your game is of life and death…
And yet,
each night you flow
to that golden glow
because you know
the bright light shows
you’re not alone
for life remains unchanged, and so
there’s still a little hope
left.
(Inspired by #DimpleVerse prompt ‘Moth’)
How I Amuse My Poetry Muse Vol XIII
A seamless ream of cerulean cloth
A light-blue rock pool unspoiled by sea broth
No clouds allowed to crowd this sky
Just sure azure pureness cast
alluringly on high.
Everything has a point
’round which its being turns –
but our love’s turning point
spun helplessly out of joint
and thus became anointed
our point of no return.
(Inspired by #MadVerse prompt ‘Movement’)
Five lines, I did try
to write, in honour of my
urinary tract –
But then I changed tack, and thought:
That would just tanka the piss.
Living Driftwood
I’m like tumbleweed,
I always feel the need
to keep moving,
Never laying roots,
Just looking for pastures new
that might suit me…
Yet that’s not a good
analogy for me;
For I’m not like tumbleweed
that speeds around –
I’m more like driftwood
that’s drawn from town-to-town,
Coasting like those bleached-out ghosts
hauled around from beach-to-beach
to temporarily reside high and dry
til the next tide comes,
And in it’s arms I’m dragged back down,
Then buffeted to another shore,
No different to the one before,
To find that I am flung once more
upon ground which roots can’t breach.
(Inspired by #MadVerse prompt ‘Movement’)
Listen
Still your tongue and become mute,
Let the beauty of your mind keep time
with the rousing sounds that surround you –
allow yourself to be aware
of everything that shares the Earth with you –
both awake, and insensate too.
Be moved by the muse of movement,
And be cognizant of all you see
and hear and taste and smell and feel,
and blend it into poetry, by fusing what is real
with the imaginary, to produce a perfect way
to heal your torment
by seeking relief in the pure belief
that everything is meaningless
and yet still somehow blessed
with a happiness that goes beyond
mere serendipity.
(Inspired by #SenseWrds prompt ‘Hushed’ and #MadVerse prompt ‘Movement’)
Flying Ants
Blind as bats
thick as gnats
in your hair and
everywhere.
In the street
on your feet
on the cars and
in your bra.
On your clothes
up your nose
out in space (look,
nowhere’s safe).
In the sky
in your eye
as people cry
“The end is nigh!”
Kiss A Frog, Get A Prison Sentence
Kiss a frog and you get a prince –
A mincing, prancing, preening ponce
Who’ll whisk away and then ensconce
you into his insipid life –
Where evermore you’ll be his wife.
Just a beauty, whose duty is to be seen
(except when you’re spawning his progeny)
No more a person, but just a means
of insuring the fate of his monarchy.
Well, that’s never been a dream of mine,
So stick that offer where the sun don’t shine,
Sorry frogs, but I’d rather go
get frisky, with less risky toads.
(Inspired by #microprompt ‘Frog’)
Barely Dressed At my Desk
Sitting typing at my desk
in a state of near-undress,
Towels wrapped round my head and torso
face is bare (and shoulders more so),
Out the window I do stare
seeking inspiration there,
Watching people passing by
wondering to whence they fly,
Sometimes as they cross the street,
For a moment our eyes meet –
But then they blush and look away,
stride even quicker on their way
I pause, and wonder why they frown –
Then realize my towel’s slipped down…