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Monday, 23 January 2017

Elected Official (168 of 365)

Day 168 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day torpid meaning: "a condition of biological rest or suspended animation."

Elected Official 

The gateway opened up
The light spilled out
It overwhelmed and consumed 
Save for sunnies I had no protection
For the awe I felt when I witnessed 
That sublime progeny of humanity
The robust Roman jaw 
Made for massacring words and for sanctimonious retribution and diatribes 
But my first impression was greatness
Befitting of a glorious mare in heat its full cock and balls standing erect
Wallowing low so as to demonstrate my penitence
my supplication to
This divinity made flesh
This pinnacle of torpid gestation 
May the glory, the power and the holy kingdom of the USA 
Praise him. 

Sunday, 22 January 2017

Incomletence (167 of 365)

Day 167 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day staid meaning: "characterized by dignity and propriety."


Red bloody raw incompetence
Smacks me in the stomach till I see stars 
I'm hanging off a meat hook dripping
The flesh is hanging and the air is cool and it's relaxing all this pain
It cuts past the numbing and the blisters 

There was an inflatable mattress
Several children jumped and darted over him until he as you might imagine
Described himself as deflated 

And knowing so much failure 
My staid past well behind me
Behind tall white picket nail fences and a warm embrace of white porcelain rubber skin 

I saw a place beyond the pines 
Where bark was lush and leaves were ever green 
I saw it and it distracted me from
Obliterating thoughts of desperate panic where I lay open at night in sweats awaiting the mortal demise
Awaiting the end 
Awaiting the judging eyes and doors
Can there be more than this? 

Saturday, 21 January 2017

Lazy Sunday (166 of 365)

Welcome to day 166 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day sequestration meaning: "(of a place) isolated and hidden away."

Lazy Sunday 

Afternoons baking on the sheets 
Looking out the window
These moments where experience has taught me too much to
Enjoy this and be in this 
To stay in this quiet moment
Like a child 
I am too tired to smile
The leaves blow back and forth
They whisper in my mind with all 
Else that might consume my time
With all else that will consume my time
I lay back burned and baking
The hairs on my legs betray 
My age, but the tired lull of my eyes
On a lazy Sunday remain the same
I shut my eyes and dream
I am sequestered 
My world is mine and a great plain of darkness surrounds me
Nervously and apprehensive of opening them again.

Curling Branches (165 of 365)

165 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day solipsism meaning: "the philosophical theory that the self is all that exists."

Curling Branches 

There are soft curling branches
Soft secret limbs that reach
Across spaces in cafes and restaurants, bars, scenic views and lands
They feel about tentative and nervous

They look into different dimensions
They take shape on collective imagination 
Sparked by two eyes meeting across a room

There is a mutual interest
And eternal understanding
That nothing will ever happen
But curiosity persists 
Imagination constructs a world
Dreams within dreams deep 
Layers of curiosity 

These are soft silent moments
Of secret longing
That no one knows or sees
There is a sense of solipsism in this emptiness that belongs only to you 
As feelings are acknowledged 
Then cast adrift to sweep down
Their way meander out into
The vast sea of the subconscious.

Thursday, 19 January 2017

Semaphore (164 of 365)

164 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day semaphore meaning: "an apparatus for visual signalling."


The great-grandfather sits down and tells his son how to be: 
"see this world it's mad, 
You should be glad if you
Had what I had 
Your freedom is gone 
Don't resent it submit to control
Submit to safety and reassurance."

The grandfather sat down and tells his son how to be: 
"See this worlds gone mad
We have roles we do
And it's justice and nature that we do them
Your mother got what she deserved
Don't let anyone tell you different 
You do as you please 
My father submitted to control 
Where did it get him
There is no safety or reassurance."

The father sat down and tells his son how to be:
"See this worlds gone mad
I always listened to my old man, dad
It's sad the problems you have
They are not your fault 
How could they be you've done nothing wrong my son
Don't listen to them 
Don't listen to her 
She had her job and you have yours
Go to work bring home the bacon
That's all you need do
Then you'll deserve some rest and recuperation
That's the only safety and reassurance I had and you'll have it too."

The son sits idle and says to his father:
"This is my world not yours
I don't know what to do
I don't understand why what you say is not what they say
I don't know why things are different
I'm lost. 
I wish you could help me. 
You're the only one that can.
I know you can't, but I have no choice don't I?"

Jungle (163 of 365)

Day 163 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day (one I know, but it has a second recognised meaning) jungle meaning: "a situation or place of bewildering complexity or brutal competitiveness."


It's a jungle out there
Dog eat dog 
The ferns and the canopy
Keeping it all dark black
Concealed ambiguous 
It's always night
It's always hidden
It's always intangible
It's always hard and thorny with the barbs cutting and clawing
There is life here
It has a beating pulse of flame and hunger and frenzy
There are vast and sly faces and mouths 
All the better to chow down
There is a moment when there is only delight beneath the eaves
Before you soon discover 
Lower your guard and the predators will have you
They will have you
Then you'll be lost amongst the tall breathing darkness 
There are no screams just the
Deafening beating of cicadas wings
Howling into the absence of life
The seeming cavernous void 
Where you used to be. 

Tuesday, 17 January 2017

Perfection (161 of 365)

Day 161 of the 365 day poem challenge.

Word of the day redoubtable meaning "inspiring fear."


The basis of it all 
Is perfection
The work should be redoubtable
The work was average
The motivation was lacking 
The human hand can only do
So much before stumbling

It's unkind to be ambiguous
Clarity and perfection
Is succinct and basic 
It is terribly potent 

Humanity understands banality
That is the stumbling block 
To perfection 
It is out of reach in the grip of monotony 

There is also the anxiety of imperfection that is present
It procreates and forms procrastination
And additional work beyond 
That which is required 

Thus is perfection flawed
From the beginning
Inevitable is the descent of man.