stuff i write

Drifting #3

Wilderness weeks, only effective in paying bills. My deficit of debt time, emptying my life.

An exception to it: Took a slalom road to Melton Mowbray to play. The drummer arrived as we were taking the stage. Tight yet awkward, the usual crumbling sound. We were ‘Different and interesting’, somesaid.

Flatlined mood – petulant and resentful. Blurring laptops and windscreens; high winds and rain buffeting me. Tighten my woollen coat, adjust my knees.

Another exception: I know it must be bad when my therapist bends in to hug me. I had been trying to keep the mood light it being valentines day, but my deflective jokes choked, glottal stopped.

Bad dreams #82

I was hung,
By the thumbs.
It seemed to go on for hours
Before I was undone.
Festival Halls of people sung
And clapped raptures;
Roars of approval rang peals and rounds
Round rafters.
I was stunned.

Reasoned begging,
Appeals to Heaven –
Nothing worked.
Nor did my threatening.
I’ve been, at times, a weirdo and a cretin;
An aperitif of psychopath,
A carafe of the just plain daft:
Salted round the lip with the tang of the bad example I’m setting.

I cut out all my guilts
And made a quilt:
Pass it down generations,
Hand-to-hand, bequeathed, willed,
Strips whipped from me, peeled, patched;
Gone, scrapped.
A hackneyed, ragged residue that endures,
Worse than a curse.
That’s how dynasties get built.

The Awkward Silences

Perched on a cushion
I’m a buddha
Of a fashion:
With a thousand yard smile,
(Immune from irritation),
I will outwait you.

With awkward silences.

Humbled by creation,
I am numb
By consolation:
With a devil may care sigh,
(Indignant with compassion),
I will outwait you.

With awkward silences.

Reflections in puddles

The rain and my spectacles cause fractals in kaleidoscopic sparkles. Blurry in my head, fizzles swiped by the drizzle. The streets are putrid smelling: Pet turds smeared, curdled with mud and squashed slug sludge. A witch’s brew, waiting for blood.

At the corner with traffic lights I begged for forgiveness and stepped out more blindly than blithely, and waited for the inevitable nothingness to happen.

It did.

There’s nothing wrong with the hearing in my left ear but there’s no accounting for the Toyota Prius.

They come out of nowhere.

The cramps from the damp plague my ague with aches. A slow thud of what ails me flinches as if fingers working with frozen spanners in an engine on a January morning. Icicled knuckles, vulnerable. Cold chisels prying apart my joints. Crystals of arthritis.

The Do-Gooder’s Dilemma

Face the morning:
I’m on a come down.
She says, ‘Feel my Pain’.
But I haven’t got the patience.
And, for that, I know, I’m going to be Damned,

Face the darkness:
I’m a snarling snag of traps.
She says, ‘I can’t sleep’.
Then sleeps with her head in my lap.
And for that, I know, I’m going to be Saved,

We’ll see.

Dig my heels in

It’s all on schedule,
Yet ephemeral,
And when I wake up it tends to be gone.
I had it here!
I was keeping it near,
Something must’ve gone very wrong.

Nothing hangs around here for very long –

Except You –
Who I have to choose to lose.
Except You –
Unless I dig my heels in.

I’ve been dreaming
In a delirium,
Messy stuff I can barely comprehend;
Full of shame
And tedium,
With you being my long lost friend;

All good things must come to an end.

Even You –
Who I have to choose to lose.
Even You –
Even if I dig my heels in.

It’s not manga

I made a drawing that’s hard to explain, then I made paintings of it even though I can’t paint. To get technical, it’s a quadtych, though in reality it’s more of a comic strip. I stood them up against the wall in her room, left to right, stepped back, waved my hands at them and blathered. “There’s Me, and I gradually turn into a cactus”. But no, with practice, she completely misread the message and decided to read it backwards. Come up with an interpretation about my having lost some of my spikes. Yikes! It was a stretch to accept, what with my constant struggle with interpersonal crises, but her rampant positivity always gets my respect. I made a lame joke about her turning Chinese. Trying to deflect.

Sketch #1

Sitting out back, rocking on my stoop, to the crackle of a fire burning bracken; I was pondering the imponderable just to baffle myself. It went well. Loss of self in the stirring of embers, the rustling of leaves, the sweat on my back.

It was fractals everywhere. The jasmine and roses are in the first flush, glowing. Lush fronds flowing; thorns like razors.

One of my neighbours had the TV on loud enough that I could hear the grunting of a women’s tennis match at Wimbledon. Reminded me of happier days 😉 My sawing swung to their swings, my thoughts got lost in more visceral things. Struck a new rhythm.

It was all good until I cooked a snail by mistake and it got a bit existential. And then someone’s car alarm started and went on incessantly for most of the afternoon.

Went to the barbers for a summer trim.

They had the ugliest mirror I’ve ever seen.

Wavefunction collapse

Walking the line between time zones,
Neither nowhere or over there,
I could pop up anywhere.
Who knows.

My vibration, jittering, is pin-balled, careering midst atomic structures and dimensions. I am merely the essence of Particle, seeking extension. I am a soup of proteins and DNA waiting on lightning. It may look peaceful now but you wait, I’ll be frightening.

The fickle tickle of fate…
Deciding whether to bother.

I want to transcend from the quantum to the wanton in a pageant of pomp and celebratory ostentation. I want Wembley, Ceaser’s Palace and The Colliseum. Live stream. A pitch with a global punch. Heisenberg says I can be at all three places at once.