Archive for poetry blogging

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.

Reunion

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 4, 2020 by dc

There are too many ways
To crumble into intrigue,

To fall from grace and
Just sit pissing mist.

He came here to turn himself
Into something he never was,

To trickle then career
Into any dead thought,

Unreasonable or not,

Just a jigsawed illusion
Curdling the background,

A cameo in conversations,

A stumble supported by
Delusions of scaffolding,

30 hours of subsidised therapy,
Beta blockers for bouts of anxiety;

Loose at the bar,
Whispering what’s what,

Hunting for something,
Hot headed and desperate,

Drinking for hours
Then shape-shifting –

There was never any need
To take this seriously,

To sweat so vigorously,
To embrace hyperbole,
To dance erotically

Then cry.

Clues

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

Watch as clarity melts
In the ballads of the sighing,

In these gossamer reflections
Brewed up in reveries,

Voices lost to empty space,
Opalescent shimmers,

Like translucent winter breaths
Or phosphorescence in a swamp,

Milking frequencies
From thin air,

Off-white in the sky,
Blinking as clouds drift,

Pocked with cavernous holes,
Letting murmurs breathe,

The sounds of old trains
Creaking to life and the hum
Of a village now lost,

Simple loops and routines
Transmuted into wistful nostalgia,

Winter ghosts weaving
Their tales through the trees,

A knowing light
As the dusk shuffles in,

Fragile pleasures
Warm as clues to the ear.

The New Righteous Lesson

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 7, 2019 by dc

Binoculars shiver,
Breath fogs,

A mess of nature
Scrawls disorder,

The landscape weaves

And hillsides
Career into night.

Alien visions
Tiptoe on chaos,

The sky wavers
And shapes shift,

We count voices,
Measure the mood

And relax into turmoil.

Tree trunks drip with piss
As birds nest,

Fear clasps adrenaline,

Sweat steams
It’s silent bravado

And a hush creaks
Mist whispers;

We breath in then swallow,

Humming like dowsing forks
To the rain,

The new righteous lesson,

A message from those
Far more mighty,

A swan song
For troublesome teens.

The Function

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 13, 2019 by dc

Three chewy prawns
On a large plastic spoon,

Grieving in a lettuce leaf,
Dreaming of better days;

The reception was filled
With the same old faces,

The curtains hung
Like gently swaying corpses

Stretched out
Into velveteen tedium,

The carpet groaned stains
And the atrium farted dust,

Lethargy battled
Wafts of cheap perfume

And a ripe, gloomy air
Of disinterest and small talk

Hovered like smoke
In a colonial lounge.

He wanted to complain
About the canapes,

But his voice was already
Sat back at home.

The Mourning Rain

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 18, 2019 by dc

Thunder calls,
The mourning rain,

Autumn sings
Its subtle pains,

Worries sink into the ground,
Dissipating drowning sounds,

A stream of thoughts running away,
The stale smells, a passageway,

Naive and oh so cavalier,
As shadows fall you disappear

Into your borrowed dreams,
Stitched together from smithereens,

Worn out t-shirts and happenings,
Your disregard for the finer things,

You’re happiest when you roam alone,
Gliding over the cobblestones,

Staring up at the great unknown
As all those memories that died

Rise high and hook their fingers in the sky
Like fire flies electrified.