No Subject

This is the beginning
of the end, of all things
worthy to be defend-
-ed. Frozen bread is
our staple - A hefty
promise cashed in too
early to be worth
more than a slap in
the face. Lifetimes
gone to waste.

Ay bee, ay bee.
See dee, see dee.

Constructs of the
vaguely poetic
spoken in dialects
never used before.
'I find your innovations
quite pathetic, and your
rhyme schemes should
be used no more!'

Analyse the incomprehensible
if you can, if you can;
If you can't then arrange
for a series of cunning
distractions with str-
-uctur-

-al

chan-----ges

to

deceiv-

-e

the

read-

-er

I wish I had the talent
to make words never
sound the same.
I wish I had the talent
to write poetry again.

No Taxi

The thin layer of snow crunches
beneath our feet, as we walk with
great care down this old cobbled street.

Hair and shoes, tits and waists;
tonight for a time we were above
our place - Dancing through
postmodern maisons d'opium,
sporting saddles with belts and
drinking overpriced apple juice.

'What's that? Speak up babe,
I can't hear you.'

Conversations began and
ended in confusion, with
the in-between filled by
shouted pleasantries.

The hustle and bustle
of the brown man's shop
was a comforting change -
incandescent tubes of light
bathed us gently as
complete strangers and
old friends blurred into
one.

The thick layer of snow crunches
beneath our feet, as we walk with
silent trepidation on the long high street.

Steam clouds fill the air - dancing ghosts
of our burning desire clashing against the
frigid atmosphere. Yet we're still trapped
within our own Trinity-Saint Sergius, the
damned living by His rule;
Swiftian tropes-r-us.

Found

I find it in encoded sounds,
etched data resembling stratocasters;
I find it in the voices of dead men,
and subtle visions of forgotten masters.

I find it lurking in the shadows,
a dark tunnel that splits the sun;
I find it blossoming in all these things,
and yet I find it in no one.

We're all alone.

Unsent

All those words,
lost and floating in the air.
All those words,
tell me that you don't care.

Penguins

My words are a flock of penguins;
Peaceful and nice to be around,
Each letter's a feather
And they huddle together
But they still cannot leave the ground.