Friday, 2 May 2008

Another Poem

Its imprint left on rock and flesh,
Flat Earth thought exists;
Layered strata of side steps,
Falses metamorphoses, cloaked legacies,
Persistent, stubborn,
The pavement which we tread.

Liberated Souls gaze inward
With no map to limit their wanderings,
Depth no barometer of meaning,
But if they can't pull their finger out
Then they'll walk into a lamppost.


I can feel forever
Slipping through my hands
Feverish cluttered space
Begets its own conclusion
Whilst competing tendencies bicker,
Siblings on the sofa of my life
This is reality
Without the TV
And there are no relatives anymore
Fresh alien climates await
Beyond the conflicted horizon
A passenger
I cling to my flaws
As they bear me downstream.

Note on Poems

Bit frustrated as I appear to have misplaced my current notebook. I have some other scraps flaoting around on bits of A4 and the backs of envelopes etc. I'm about to post a couple I wrote yesterday, hot offf the presses as it were.