The neon lights of the city,
1 am feels like 8 pm.
Moving and flashing adverts,
constant stimulation.
Another coffee in the city,
time is meaningless.
Sleeping when possible,
working long hours.
Dancing to sound bites,
constantly wired.
Tag: poetry
Paper
Born of wood, I became paper
steel keys imprinting ink upon my skin
signed with ink, and read for a while
folded over once, enveloped, posted
I come with no expectations
The reader was wise and opened my folds
Briefly, my words capture his gaze
Binned with used paper, I am no more: PULP
Faroe Dreaming
A picture of the Faroe Islands on the screen.
Work calls you back, yet the picture leaves you with a monetary conundrum: to walk away or stay.
Wind chiselled landscapes of rugged rock, green and the ever-present sea moving in and around.
You stay for your cat, yet long for the sea.
Botanic Garden
imperfect roses
scrutiny and muffled sighs
Refund our money
Dear Leader
He speaks to the crowd.
The voice, a sonorous velvet music
lifting the heathens.
Several tongues trace longing lips,
hanging on every word.
He passes judgement.
The crowd become a frenzied mob.
Possessed by his rapture,
they inflict such malicious violence.
Caprice
exposed in the snow
an unguarded fantasy
Snow falling on skin
whimsical pagan caprice
unbelieving, unknowing
Lunch Break Thoughts
Watching the way the wind blows through the blooming buds of the ornamental pear trees.
I feel the petals, twigs, and random wrappers brush past my cheeks and legs.
The eventuality of my circumstances is within those random wrappers moving in the wind.
Living within the walls of an office was never for me.
The Bellwether
forgotten in hues
the bellwether of no one
talking to the sea
A Retreat
A stranger’s bed
paid for and made for one
without regrets
Jasmine steam
wafting on a light journey
only thoughts
A water barrel
outside comes to inside
the barrel bath
Sky glimpses
the sunsets into twilight
bobbing safe
Wet footprints
reinvigorated for today
in the present
The Olive Tree
The olive tree cries
Blood-stained roots long for water
alone in her death
Once the dwelling place of God
now turning to dust and death
C & K 