You can’t always get what you want

 

 

Strange humilities

 

time carves its grooves

in skin and stone

light falls more harshly

when too many days are gone

dry tears are the salt of this table

dry eyes that see

too clearly

through the blur of resignation

we are grains of grit

in a ceaseless wind

and time laughs at all our expectations

always leaving the party

before the end.

 

 

Words and image are my own.

 

 

©2018

Dancin’ with myself

 

Me myself I

 

I wear my hair

Like it’s some kind of hat

And my skin like a set of old comfy pajamas

I stare too deeply

Notice too much

Should really learn

To mind my own business

Haven’t got a skincare routine

Because I frankly find it hard to really care that much

About skin

I’ve got too many answers and

Too few questions

Which doesn’t seem like the path to wisdom

Insist on running when going up stairs

And refuse to just stand on escalators

Like a lump… with too much time on its hands

Really hate crowds but, perversely, love

Cities

I wage total love

And don’t know the rules of engagement –

Or capitulation

So I never make it out alive

I don’t like sentences that start with I

I don’t like people who say there’s no ‘i’ in team

I don’t believe in an eye for an eye

But I’ll thump you in the eye

If you push me too far

Or disrespect my girl

I think beer is more cultured than wine

And can’t work out if that makes me pretentious

Sometimes it’s hard to reconcile my low self-esteem

With my inflated ego

A situation that can lead to me writing a poem

Entirely about myself

That nevertheless manages

To make me look like an asshole.

 

 

 

 

 

©2016