Archive for February, 2020

That Déjà Vu Residue

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 29, 2020 by dc

No one knows,

No one cares,

No one’s underneath your stairs

And no one’s in your kitchen either,

It’s time you took a breather;

It’s time to take things down

A notch or two,

It’s time to wipe away

That déjà vu residue.

All Of A Quiver

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 20, 2020 by dc

There’s a tiny muscle
In my right thigh
Twitching,

It wants to take
The whole leg
With it,

Like a cult leader
Humming his mantra,

Wild eyed,
All of a quiver,

A politician
Electioneering,

An outstretched hand
Of frenzied hope,

A budding influencer,
A distraction,

Another flashlight
In the dark,

A spark that
Dreams of flames,

I sing and then
Pfft.

Asleep On Shiva’s Forehead

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on February 16, 2020 by dc

A half-finished
Glass of Rioja
And the remains of
Some crackers,

A creased book
On ‘Gods’,

The lines scatter
Then fade,

Just a single thought pops,

There are no temples
Free from snakes
In the netherworld.

Lost in calm around this time,

In the sweet post-dinner lull,

His head lolls,
Bobbing for apples,

Sat in his cloud,
Above his crumb chested kingdom,

Ten minutes ridding evil,
A slouched enlightenment
Unfurled,

Dozing but gently wired
To all movements,

His relaxed collapse
Is in touch with the room,

The news drifts a whisper,
He groans,

A voice calls him,
He burbles;

Half-deaf and humming transmissions,
He uses his whole body as an ear,

Before mumbling out
One last rummaged thought,

The snakes were always there.

Around The Round Table

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 11, 2020 by dc

Comfortably perched
On the squashed,
Breathless dreams of
Socialists and savages,

Around the round table,

Excitedly jigsawing thoughts
Into questionable sentences,

Sat with their dopplegangers,

All white slang and coke,
Blue jokes and ripe talk,

These post-free thinking individuals,
Trade wrinkled stories
Warped at source,

Morse code and multi-sided truths,
Bruised ballads composed
With blunt pencils and moans,

A twisted linguist’s
Dribbled drunk burp
And a new decree for all to hear,

Fake news – it’s fucking fake news!
Those facts are fake,
I know the score,

And in an instant
It’s come full circle
Like an old revolving door,

Around and round,
Around the round table
There’s a flaw.

You’re Only As Young As The Last Time You Didn’t

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 5, 2020 by dc

You take chances
And gamble on heartache
And train times,

Till the fire
Starts to fade,

Then you magnify
The characteristics
All your ex-lovers hated,

Just to shine
That little bit
Brighter at night.

You think fate
Sometimes whispers
And mutters your name,

You drink too much
At stranger’s houses
And regret nothing,

You interrupt then
Improve each and every
Conversation,

Till your hiccups
Start glitching
And you fade into carpet;

You’d take on the town
If you could only
Stay upright,

An enigma to many,
Untranslated by most,
Your a piece of a puzzle

Lay scattered.

Manchester, February

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on February 2, 2020 by dc

Rain tuts on the roof
Winter keeps growling at Spring
And the dawn just yawns