loquacious mate

Loquacious mate rushes through masses of subject matters,

I close my eyes and want to listen eagerly

Film reviews, new music, parents, lovers, sunsets.

I can't keep pace, can't listen so much, so fast.

Slow down

Slice it up

Give me something new

To learn

Every day.

Everything all at once ruptures me.

Idol

You're not my idol now

The pedestal was whipped away by time

Now I'm left without worship and I wonder

If to carry on with you

Since you became flawed.

I was knocked to my knees by your pointed ears

I dreamt of your patchouli and damp smelling collar

Your touch sent me twitching and trembling

And I looked inside you with watering eyes.

You're not my idol now

It's all chemical, the pheromones have eroded

Washed away by storming waters of madness

Your apathy is catching

My adulation vanished, stabbing me.

I love you still.

2nd draft - Ban

Up late at night we talked of God and cigs

He often made me tea, I gave him figs.

He's gone from his world now with no goodbye

I don't begrudge him that despite my cry

Of pain at losing Ban the Buddhist monk

Whose friendship knew no bounds, my dharma punk.

I hope that his beliefs are just unerring

And he transcended, no more journeying

This world with sufi stick, musing with mirth

The misery that is the planet Earth.

So now I bid goodbye to that soft man

This poem ends too soon, and so did Ban.

Haiku Day again

The bookshelf, sated,

Sighs in the mess of jumbled

works - crowded, complete.

Half a bowl of soup

Is all I ate this morning

Weight loss, bitter, fast.

Eyes old and yellow

In wrinkled countenance grey -

White curled hair bright, rose.

Stuck in hospital

Bed to greet blame for bringing

Soul into disgrace.

Water fits through the

Cracks that run along my wall

Cleansing lunacy.

The blackbird dives quick

To the ground spying brown bread -

One white tail feather.

2nd draft - Haircut

I'm going to be late -

I'll miss my appointment -

A haircut not to be.

But if I set off right away

I'll just be hopelessly early

Caught in a costly coffee shop.

Oh God, I need to pay him -

Add ten minutes getting cash -

I'm petrified I'll be late -

I'd be so ashamed to discover

Claudio is serving another -

Cutting her stylish alluring hair -

As I arrive, sweaty, bedraggled -

Too late for Claudio, just too late -

Standing in reception without smiles.

I'll travel back to Peckham

With my frightful straggly hair,

Wishing that Claudio waited.

Or maybe Claudio will wait -

He'll gruffly shake his oily curls

And cut my hair nasty for laughs -

At home, no amount of Looks Lovely

Will convince me he didn't cut wrong -

And I'll wear a huge hat evermore.

So now I'd better go

So I arrive on time -

But I'm just such a mess -

If I only knew what to wear

If I knew what Claudio liked -

I'd have the most marvellous hair.

But you haven't replied

I march, kerbside

Past the plastic-shielded pushchair

The mother with the felted hat.

I trudge, texting, in the downpour -

Long exposure to these streets

Ensures my avoidance

Of lampposts and flimsy trees.

I traipse through puddles, booted -

Downhill now

Downhill to our meeting place -

But you haven't replied.

kef

I want to roam the streets woolly-headed

Bash against mainstream life blues

I'm aching for a high -

Searching for kef without substances -

I wish the drugs would make me wild

Simply for the day, and not forever certified.

Keyboard Magnificat

I move obtrusive objects-

The white wicker chair,

The weavery tomes,

The washing basket.

And I stand at the electronic keyboard

Wondering what to play.

Practicing my arpeggios-

Flicking my wrist under

Searching for that distant note.

Discord

And I start again.

Persistence

And I start again.

Then it comes-

My fingers hit the mark-

And I perform to the empty room.

2nd draft - Disappointed Dead Roses

Disappointed dead roses, yellow and pink.

The big fat flower smeared on the summer hat,

Goading with its orchid shape.

Upside down feet wait for their velcro home and

Well-balanced woman faces outside world.

I'll cover the cupboard door until it holds

No trace of magnolia paint.

You'll be shocked by the colours - blinded and sucked in.

Passionate postcards sent in case of actuality.

2nd draft - Stormy Day Away

Can't see the top -

I'm just too near

To the grand, firm bricks.

Crushed and insufficient

Beside the elegant building.

But the ice cream van arrives.

I queue, tight and anxious -

The brass band background -

Dancers in black suits, jitters.

I twitch.

The waiting.

My legs ask me to run,

Families ask for ice cream

After ice cream for their

Kiddies and their grannies.

The tourism tires me

A visitor in a city that was

Once mine.

At the front I ask for a 99 -

Syrup drips,

Thunder roars,

I shiver when I lick.

The shelter of the looming building

The peace in a stormy day - away.