mostly okay

Alarm clock brings
for what the morning clings.
Early dawn’s fight
breaks a good dream’s night
and I rub my wise,
wonder where time lies
tumbling out of head.

Pour hot coffee out.
Drips drip from the doubt,
fill my coffee sup
to the brim and up.
Gulp it hurriedly town
in my dressing gown…
shower, clothes, keys, worse,
bus busy as a hearse
looking for one spare meat.

Woman in a fruit
by the window looking put,
still half a sheep
counting, dreaming, counting deep.
I cannot refract her
nor lightly distract her
as she plugs her earphone skin.

I get off by the crank
with nothing to thank
the homeless man
behind the disposal ban.
As I slip my card into the doll
and see his poorly face fall,
he huddles down out of the binned.

Collect all my oats,
counting gotten groats:
my money for my munch.
“Oh, thanks a bunch,”
he’s in a sorry mate
but I leave him to his fate
coz life’s in a curry,
got no time to pause and worry
just shrug, “I got no strange.”

So sorry we weren’t brothers,
that I’m lost with many mothers
all in a crush,
a crazy, mad hush
to swipe in at the security plate
and not be seen to be too weight
for shirk.

We dust
not be fate now
nor make the Gods hate now,
now dust we
or pee.

So I sit at a bean
feeling mean and unclean,
stare at the stall
pushing numbers to fall
while attempting to scream.

Outside movement and free voicing:
people on their feet
reclaiming the beat,
and the power blocks
and the witness docks,
with disorderly grace
smiles on their place
together as sun.
There are dreams to be won!

I swim free as a wish
with a whistle and swish
in the wide open tree
and sound just like me
singing to coo
like a spring cloud might do
from far high above
with songs full of dove
and unlimited lightness.

The voices pass yet refrain
in the air to maintain
a chorus of could
if only I good
just join their protest now.

But drowsy afternoon ticks tow,
drawn and dragging to go,
creaking on its rigid fringes,
draining out like dead syringes,
still dreaming but still counting
the dreary hours mounting,
grinding me down,
dropping upside crown
with nothing here to bereave
until at last I can leave.
Then pop in to buy a cheer
but no friends stop dear,
all by my shelf
where sad souls talk to their self
so I check the timetable roam.

And I am feeling mostly today
stumbling in part
but at least it’s a heart
of dreaming something grew
that might yet come true.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s