Here are some poems, composed by a puppet,

some are my own and some of them not.

You can like one, or quite like them all,

or simply not like them a hell of a lot.


x



Monday 27 February 2012

Fellow Travellers.

now, i'm standing
at the bus stop
on the homerton high road,
when five young men
show and i think:
why, they sure broke the mould!

they look to me,
all too-tight slacks
and curly bouffant hair,
like some old prog-
rock band been all
time-warped unawares.

but boy, are these
boys big, they go
on well up over me
and also speak
and act with such
assurèd certainty

that when they speak
in swedish, all
a "har du sett?" and "ja",
my mind can't help
but think: my, ain't
these vikings 'alf come far!

1 comment:

  1. captain of the library

    lying comatozed in your bed
    even your dog had abandoned ship
    as your bed was sailing
    in the overflow
    of a broken pub toilet

    and the waves crashed against you for many years
    until you rescued yourself
    and i cant help being proud of you
    as you buoy yourself with words
    noble

    and to those lost at sea
    the lost forever
    the gone
    you remain a floating beacon
    my lighthouse jack

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