posted on March 28, 2010 at 7:02 am

warm sunday arvo natch
party nexta door in le jardin
noisy bastards drunken laughing shrill voices
cheering whooping shouting each other down
the noise rises n falls like waves upon a sure
i swan around my house alone
i do yoga and all that stuff
there is sand everywhere
my paintings unfinished
papers etc etc everywhere
its so warm
late holiday weather
miraculous sunday afternoon in the seaside suburbs
wander away in the soft haze
still a bit of summer interpenetrating autumn
still a bit more bonhomie to be wrenched from the year
tomorrow i gotta get up n get serious
pack whatever the hell i need
not too much or they charge ya
get mineself to the yonder aeropuerte n fly away
its a horrible feeling on the cusp of leaving
neither here nor there eh?
i think of other times and all things there
i think of events long past n those yet to transpire
there are bats in the trees
there are eels in the streams
there are tiny birdies tumbling out the nest
the path goes on n on
we loop the river
standing on a tiny chinese bridge
the carp jostle for the wry bread
i lay out on my back as the noises fade
i pass go n collect my children from the park
i shave blurrily in that ugly mirror
time is dolled out
meantime inbetweentime
i eat old roles with peanut butter
i eat cheap muesli with rice milk
age does not weary me too much (yet…it surely will)
in many ways i am frugal and ascetic
in other ways a slavish waster
toxic in intoxicate
good n bad battle it out
one step sideways another step
the things we take in weigh us down
way us down
you gonna wear it forever
swallow, your pride…..
night starts to sag into the fading afternoon
the wind picks up a bit
the leaves are dancing along the branch
the strange time o’ day
light is ambiguous
i daydream in the playful breezes
many people i have known are dead
sometimes i speak with them
especially on afternoons like this
a hiatus in affairs
men have surely all lost their way
the olden times forgotten n scorned
the zeitgeist made me do it
a tv antenna wobbles in the wind
the party lurches on jeering and yelling out
i hear oh my god! a thousand times
in the garden the blond animals socialize
the birds call on oblivious to any fuss
the yobs at the party roar and guffaw
their bints chuckle and cackle
such joyless mirth upon this earth
cars zoom away all around us
the sky goes orange out the back
the battery runs inexorably out
the pattern repeats
the reality is maintained
someday i break thru but not today
i deal myself a good hand
ace of clubs
ace of spades
eight of clubs
eight of spades
and is that the queen of diamonds
what does it really mean
if you dream of a snake?

22 Responses to “poetry overdose (in spades)”

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