Where’s the Beef?

Town living is a blessing.
I can walk almost everywhere;
the shops, chemist and to bingo.
But a house right on the
High Street is not without issues.

It’s dark, it’s after ten PM
and my door bell rings.
Local kids are bored again.
Playing “knock and run”.
But without any actual running.

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Feek Stink

Mostly a sock is much the same as the next.
Designers agonise over shades and logos
for a tube to keep stench off your boots.

Posh shops know this and wrap them well.
Each sock cosseted in tissue and branded silk,
inside a solid shiny box tied with a bright ribbon.

The quality of these socks is only perceived.
They won’t last as long or stop your new shoes
blistering your ankle; you’ve paid for packaging.

A person is a bag of bodily functions, attitudes
and ape imprinting with feet that stink up shoes.
A pretty ribbon is rarely worth the higher price.

Skyward Paws

tired dogs rest belly up –
paws cast smouldering shade after
walking on the sun

Passing of a Nut

I am a nut upon the ground
where broken husks lie all around.
Squirrel teeth have cracked the shells
and chewed the life from all my pals.

My crisp and shiny skin stands proud,
I will not hide within this crowd.
Soon my rodent chum will eat his fill,
but greed will make him take me still.

I’ll ride away stuffed in his cheek,
he’ll jump here and there just like a freak.
Spit out into a hole and stamped right in,
I hope to lie here deep, and totally forgotten.

Chirstmas Gift

Christian ethic –
will you let me burn in hell
by taking your place?

Multiverse

From the bottom of the garden
with my head tipped right over,
it seems like the yard is vertical.

There’s this theory that for every
choice in life you didn’t take there
is another universe where you did.

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Real Life

Off-line is so empty.
The sound of bills
slapping on broken tile
echo emptiness over
the perpetual motion of
a single low decibel fan.
As if worried into movement
the fridge clicks,
shuddering with the.
unaccustomed effort
of cooling a slice of
yesterdays pizza.
Its unhappy motor
ejects a din that
smoothers all but
the most insane thoughts.
Outside a gunshot rings out,
its sound-wave cracks,
forcing a moment of
un-requested reality
into the room.
Unrestrained it also
wakes a tiresome dog
that exists only
physically chained
down in the street.

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Early Shift

cyan cold dawn spreads –
cows swap visible bellows
after early shifts

Cunning Detritus

Based on my years of motorcycling and the things that have tried to stop it. Everything on this list has in reality whacked into me or my bike or been ridden through or over. There is a metaphor or two in there for good measure.

Several half smoked ciggys
and a damp Havana butt.
A broken kiddie’s tricycle.
Enough planks and beams of wood
to make a large dog house
And an old dog house.
Nuts and bolts and the spanners to tighten.
Bottles whole and in half
And assortment of branches,
a thick trunk and a bundle of sticks.
A bonnet, two doors and a seat,
enough tyres to stack as high as my head
and a black bended steering wheel.
A severed dolls head and a dead cat.
A huge double mattress hiding
the mangled end of a ladder.
A paint can not quiet crushed flat.

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Country Drive

Nature as a distraction from the modern world or nature overrun by man? You decide.

A countryside drive
at one with nature –
damn, I’ve hit a big tour bus