Poems: 210521 - May 21st, 2021

090521A
----------- 

Was looking forward 
to the warm season
but now 
not really sure.

Not really sure
about anything 
and much of that 
was always uncertain. 

Always more 
of the ice queens 
on the dark side 
of anyone's thaw. 

I have no interest 
in the ice kings
but they are out there
somewhere. 

Someone is plotting 
your get away 
to some of the same 
boring destinations. 

No one really melts 
to anything anymore 
but some still talk
about melting. 

Some are stood up 
and some are 
simply not held
in good standing. 

No one really wants
to be held anymore
most still trying
to make bail. 

No one holds on 
the way they used to
to anything 
that we could afford. 

The fall out drifts
the same old way
as cloudy concentrate 
into any other subject. 

It gets all mixed up 
into rumours 
streaming chemtrail 
and other similar stuff.

Something more 
to argue about 
so as to create a distaste 
for not being alone.  

It doesn't get better
than it used to be 
and that wasn't 
very good. 

Multitudes trade 
what they have got 
for whatever they are
and supposed to have. 

Same old square dance
magazines in motion
with same old callers
calling the new shots. 

Swallow it down 
as another little dose 
of devil may care 
and piss on it humour. 

The centrefolds 
of how we all fall down
into simply wrong
colour schemes. 

We lost the right 
to really believe 
in anything much more
than seasonal sales. 

We could outfit 
another expedition 
up into a crammed attic
of last year's styles. 

That is what they offer
to each and every 
certain to be broken 
porcelain heart.  

We can drop ourselves
before being dropped
then buy something 
as a consolation. 

-----------------------
 
110521A
------------

Philosophical whitewash 
painted over 
those ugly cosmic fences. 

Tom and Huck 
want to fly 
on brushes with death. 

Cover over 
whatever shows through 
might be anyone's truth. 

There are traces 
of everything you lost 
\carved into your eyes.

Initials of someone 
whose face you forgot 
and whose name 
never came up again. 

Nothing much more 
than superficial personals
hiding common cravings. 

You don't really get 
anything further than that
past the funny papers.

There isn't much 
and there is less all the time
about the way it goes. 

Dreaming it up 
at the far out end 
of the never was. 

It seems more real 
but that is exactly what 
makes it so phony. 

The lure of the surreal 
was never anything 
to take too personally. 

There is more truth 
in those little psychodramas 
falling into bad company. 

Doing the two step 
into doubled over 
at the fence and fold. 

The sheep all have grins 
painted on them 
using spray paint stencils. 

Banksy is so big now
that he can paint faces 
onto entire crowds. 

Every last one of them
almost the same 
except for the angle. 

Everything is spray 
from a different angle 
when it comes to belief. 

It feels like someone 
was busy rearranging 
all of our secrets.

No real point left 
trying to keep any
from the disinterested. 

No one is interested
in anything anymore 
but locks changed on doors. 

No one responded 
and everyone claimed 
something better to do. 

Mostly secretly terrified 
of being seen out 
with any sort of controversy. 

Doing the same 
illuminations of nothing
along the same margins. 

We read new things 
that meant something 
long ago. 

----------------------------- 

180521A
----------- 

There are words 
we don't use anymore
because they have changed
into being too difficult. 

They are something worse
then the people 
who have changed 
into being too difficult. 

Putting it into words
has become more difficult
in the ever more difficult
use of difficult languages. 

We ease the words out 
from our vocabularies
before they arouse
any more problems.

They hang on the tongue
in a predatory manner
of beasts hanging on 
to squirming prey. 

Once innocent words
have been discovered 
as being highly predatory
and are being black listed. 


We try to shake them off
without uttering 
the tiniest little sound 
that they might make. 

Someone might hear 
that sound 
and then there would be
big trouble. 

Such words travel 
in stray packs 
looking for victims
to bring down. 

They consume 
entire lives 
and leave behind 
the empty cores.

Feral words 
we don't use anymore
because of something 
they will eat up. 

-------------------- 

200521A
------------ 

We no longer know
where or how 
to look. 

We are the bad luck
broken mirror
shattered pieces. 

The pieces of us 
once looked in on
that once looked good. 

What colour
is your mirror 
staring at yourself. 

Hazed over 
and sharp edged 
it all reflects. 

We don't look 
the way we did
on any surface. 

The beam of light
we projected 
is fractured. 

White streamers 
into the glare 
of a blackout. 

Trying to reach 
something to celebrate
in a heat of candles. 

We don't see 
anyone or anything
that we expected. 

Blame for that 
falls on the light 
having changed. 

Names are semaphore
blinked out 
onto empty oceans. 

Maybe someone 
will walk out 
of a lightless void. 

We could ask 
for something like that
from traditional menus.

There is that persistence
of popular desires 
for illusions of salvation. 

Part of the cliches 
that bulk up 
most of entertainment. 

No taste for it
we flicker threats
about going out.
 
Signal lanterns 
sending the flash 
of wrong signals. 

Easily startled 
by what is now wrong
that used to be right.

Closed eyes 
in morning rituals
afraid to look out. 

We are the cuts 
others made 
slashing at the dark. 

Not one of them
ever got through 
that much darkness. 

We tried so hard 
to open something 
up to the light. 

The light 
never came in 
to any such opening. 

Hiding in the dark 
we become afraid
of looking again. 

--------------------- 

210521A
------------ 

Maybe it is too late
to do anything 
more than dream 
the unwelcome dreams
about the nothings 
that it was never about. 

I am only an illusion 
constructed from a lack
of any real concerns 
other than delivery receipts
for the packages 
that get sent back. 

Forget the approvals 
and drop the polite nods
because it all comes down
to curious monkeys 
making certain 
nothing much comes of it. 

You were the crowd
that habitually ruined
every little chance 
that you could ever get 
while spoiling it 
for someone else. 

It does not get better
but the fears are worse
and if we are clever
we can send away
for a little bit of relief
pretending to be a cure. 

Wipe away something
as to the age spots 
that persistently damn us
to having less and less
of anything interesting 
while being phased out. 

It could be sudden death
in play off final rounds
or we could linger 
on a tailgate of a life 
having been locked out 
of the after parties. 

It isn't really anything 
that we came for 
but they took that too 
leaving the doodled pages
of meaningless reviews. 

----------------------------- 

210521B
----------- 

Could scrub it all
and even in a forever
it never would 
ever come clean. 

Needs to be thrown 
into the far away 
long haul 
comes to trashed. 

That might compensate
for the intervening lack
currently passing
as appearances. 

Spruce it up 
with anything 
that offers no sense 
of any attachment. 

We must be 
very scrupulous 
in regard 
to polishing off. 

The arrangements 
declared all wrong 
because they fill
rather than empty. 

There are listings
of things to die from
including yourself 
in unguarded moments. 

It is always said 
that you do not need
anything you know
that you really love. 

There is a lot 
that you can get 
and get to know 
but cannot care about. 

No easy way out 
because you missed that
train as it was leaving 
that long ago station. 

Your ticket no good 
for any destination 
you tried to trade it 
for something new. 

You lost on it
the way you always do
in the all about being 
wrong place and time. 

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