Rather Than Twiddle Your Thumbs, Write A Poem...


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he gets out of bed
for the money in his head
and all the meanings
he attaches
to people he meets
makes him believe
that hes made it

when hes at home
sometimes he seems all alone
with the woman he loves
and their beautiful home
watching TV
endlessly waiting
for tomorrow

the excitement
when its gone
fades like the sun
leaving a hollow
indefinable sorrow
filled up with the words
he repeats
over and over again


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If You’re the Cause, This is my Effect

If I’m not my clothes or my attitude, am I what I think or am I what I do?
Some people believe, or at least they’re told to; that things and money are the stuff of truth.

When you’re sleeping in your bed before the day begins; are you the same person tomorrow, when you’re trying to fit in?

Maybe life’s a riddle or a reason to rhyme, who the hell am I in my body and mind; living my life inside space and time.

I’m a lover not a fighter; I’ve dreamed myself higher, floating in a bubble that’s been suddenly popped, by those who would stop - The dreamer from dreaming in case he forgot!

How important we are in our jobs and our cars, and the status accorded to a man’s business card. If you’re happy then fine, why do you need mine; applause or admiration for what’s only your truth; what you have is the evidence but it’s certainly not proof!

I know I’m for real; I’m real hard on myself, there’s no point in you if you want to be someone else. I spend a lot of time on the inside of my mind, thinking and feeling, searching to find – your dreams are different they exist outside; I’ll leave you to yours if you leave me to mine.

Some of us are sons and some of us daughters, some like the chaos and others need order; a life of lessons is your reason to grow; no-one else will learn from your I told you so’s.

I want to let it out and let it all loose, take the time sometimes to get myself juiced; turn it right up and play it out loud, the rules were made up so just figure it out.

Which ones to break, there’s no rules for love – you got to do what you can, whatever it takes; to try and survive amongst the counterfeits and fakes.

They’ll bring you illusions, sell you good times and absolution. Where it begins I guess it will end, and in the middle we’ll try to pretend.

That how is the question and what is the answer; and how to control it is all that matters. Physics and science - cause and effect, broadband speeds give little time to reflect.

They day you were born, like any other baby, with a blank slate ahead and a life as a maybe. The dreams, the consciousness, our ability to lie – how is not the question the question is why!

Why not nothing, nothing at all – why can’t we live without the hating and wars – is all of the beauty contained in our heads, nothing but perceptions of our civil unrest. There be thinkers and drinkers, a thousand schools of thought, there’s ruthless ambition, political discourse.

It’s all a matter of fact, its subjective abstract, entirely depends on the meanings attached. They taste bittersweet, any kinds of belief; for the comfort they bring is only temporary relief.


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Sounds .

The sounds are around

I feel that i feel them,

The smell touch taste in the hearing of them.

A synaesthesia of senses -

Hearing the

Caws and calls
The whistles and waits
Demandings of answer?

The human interloper
Deconstructs - enjoys the music,

Plays no part
But the part that he plays
In the enjoyment of it.


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I saw that Diana, People's Princess of Hearts, once

I was just passing,
not intending
to be there at all.

Then there she was,
There on the stair
At the Guildhall.

She was tall.
That's all
I remember.
Quite pleased with that,
As an off the cuff number.

But there are two things
I also remember

She bowed,
Accepting a something,

To a man
Who was bald
And smaller

Than her.

The baldness and smallness of the man seemed somehow amplified by her - that was the two things, but this coda is not part of the poem. Unless you want it to be, in which case it is.


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I must let this go,
Let the boat float free from the moorings,
The rope slipping through my fingers and with it the confusion of fighting the tide.

It left me cold,
Shivering with indifference, ready for sleep.
Tomorrow will bring the certainty of solitude and I need not make an excuse that doesn't belong to me.

The genes, the DNA and shared pathologies are like shifting sands,
They do not make for harmony or permanence.
Just fleeting insights that breed resentment.

You lied to me to serve notice on history,
To set free a conscience that is rightfully mine.

I will walk away and begin anew,
I will shut my eyes against the dark you would have me blinded by.

It is not the end.


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Di-dum di-dum

These arguments are well rehearsed
On every single thread
Coz all that know are full well versed
And careful where they tread

But who knows what and what knows why
Will always be the shout -
And what’s the why, the where's the sky?
Shall always sound them out

Coz no one knows the rose that grows
Though maybe it may too
And if they do should we suppose

We should do if they do?


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i read a shoe review or two,
from reviews i buy some shoes.
i don't like the shoe,
i review the shoe too.


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Of a Sudden

The green star
From what

Was above,

The fox barked.

Did he see it, with me?
Think it, like me,



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Too many me's but i hope this meets with your anti-anthropomorphic sensibilities. :)

Oh, and thanks for the tv heads-up - will watch when i get the chance.