Extended Haiku Poem

An image like a vine
carries negativity
from my earth to sky

Rooting me to spot
the greenfly of hope die there
and fall off in clumps

The sound of calling
cancels growth of emotion
empathy regained

I trot to dinner
where the fruits of our labours
drown us in a haze

Falling and climbing
Without making a sound shoots
carry on the breeze

The vine is like that
too using imagery of
amphora to gain

A foothold places
It has never ever been.
Conversation grows

and turns this way then
that like a drunken’s pencil
writes a note to God

‘I love the vine wine,
women and song, family
of grapes such as we

should never be CRUSHED!!
As the bottle falls and SMASHED!!
I fall to the floor

With a groan, Wasted
smashed open like a grape; wine
puddles at my feet

Bacchus! You bastard!
That was a terrible waste…
Was that meant to be?

I stagger to my
feet looking for a seat, a
drink of the vine wine

to reassure me
Everything is alright. I
stagger outside and

See the Vines stretch a-
way and that feeling comes back
You’re nowt but a hack!!

And I see inside
nothing so grand as the vines
or fruitful or wise

Then I hear a voice
‘Andrew, come back inside!’ So
go pretend I’m vine.

How much of a poet are you?

so?   I am going insane. The need to be poetic is ruling me. Pedants note I speak in syllables 1,2,3. I think it’s an escape. Haiku, Espresso, Allegory I’ll have three. That is the poet in me. Dee dee dee. Fucking smug motherfockas talking on the radio but thats all there is to listen to. I’ts no wonder I sound like a drunk DJ – Thats what I am. Playing for myself. Allegory. He carried a heavy load down a long road. it weighed heavily on his shoulders. He also carried a burden there. What? WHAT? Burden? A donkey on his shoulder is better than a monkey! So there. Pull your socks up and enjoy. Sasparilla. Sounds macho like Hello John Wayne Is This Me Am I You or some such bullshit. Spit into your sink instead of a spitoon and whistel dixie or at the postman. Muhammed Ali! What a tramp! Isn’t drunk great?

Mwah ha ha!

On my cloud number, nine

waiting for the bus takes no time

I am already there

Dancing on the floor and meeting and greeting

promises are made

awards I give

for niceness, politeness and Agbonlahor!

In all, it’s a happy place

a happy plaice, a happy plaice

swimming in the sea, all the better for knowing me

I am sure that when you get on the floor that you will be welcomed

with open arms by the hugging brigade or the panty brigade whatever your heart desires.

On the floor tonight that’s right, that’s right