When again

I forget all that I thought

lost to reason like a flight of birds

and cornered in my fancy of this word or that.

 

I think my posture has written a few

when I’m slunk like a folded pillow

into the creases of my seat, a lonely

heartbeat and a keyboard.

 

Strike a match in front of my eyes

so that I can see a trembling beauty

and sort through the raptures of

aural symphony available to me.

 

But hark another sirens call, so much

to see and get lost in antiquity. And books

with their subtle sights and leering looks

I can do without those too.

 

I thought I had found my best again

like a child I wondered why I was able

to write this poem at last after all that

sinks earthward bound like snow.

 

Perhaps I will never really know

what makes things move and go

upwards like a bird or float gently

down to earth like snow.

 

Does it matter to the mad hatter

how his garden grows? As long

as

there is someone to pour, and talk to

who could want for more?

Lonely

Put down! I can take it

Brushing my teeth I can take it

Dusting the floor I can take it

Lying in bed I can take it

Writing at home I can take it

Watching the tv I can take it

Cooking dinner I can take it

Not matter what I do I can take it

Singing this song reminds me of a time

when I couldn’t take it and I want it

again so much it hurts my baby.

 

Be my alone, on the end of a phone on my boner

prove to me I’m no longer a loner.

Be my alone. Together we can fall

together we know it’s tomorrow we care for

and yesterdays are made like never before.

 

Be my together alone. There is ambiguity

in this sentence. For together we can never be.

I like it too much. Much better to party and let it be.

Perhaps I know too much to care for another like you

who deserves so much. Go and get your rope and together

we will pull and push each other over, like play, it’s another yesterday

for us to remember and take to ourselves again.

 

Be my alone, on the end of a phone on my boner

prove to me I’m no longer a loner.

Be my alone. Together we can fall

together we know it’s tomorrow we care for

and yesterdays are made like never before.

 

All those bridges over all those rivers and time

leads you to believe that I can be mine alone

and waiting never aching for your touch again

Its so much better than before without the pain of

tommorow and yesterday just the present and here today.

 

Be my alone, on the end of a phone on my boner

prove to me I’m no longer a loner.

Be my alone. Together we can fall

together we know it’s tomorrow we care for

and yesterdays are made like never before.

 

 

 

Andrew Watkins © 2016

In My Room

OI’m lonely in my room

listening to the gloom

It’s all so interesting

to me

 

OI’m going into town

to see what’s going down

In the store and on the street

Someone to see

 

OI’m not meeting anyone

this way seems so lame

Everyone seems so tame

In town.

 

OI’m not hungry for your

Thai but I’d share a coke

Bet your wonderin’ why

I’m single.

 

OI’m not in work anymore

I’m on long terms sick

On accounts of my head

not tick

 

OI’m not from round here

either. Come in closer

let me show you a map

of my home.

 

OI’m a steady sort of guy

I like DVD’s and Music too

Like Nerf Herder and

Weezer.

 

OI’m doing nothing now

Do you want to come home

with me and chill

a

while?

That’d be cool

Rusty Pennies

 

Dysphagia contained

light is dark, hot is cold, good is bad?

yesterday is now today (it happened yesterday morn)

the time-space continuum sprung a leak and I fell into it drowning in specious stuff until I surfaced on a remote desert islands somewhere.

I am trying to give you my impression of how I feel. perhaps I should miss out entire sentences then you may have some idea.

The past is near. the future told of death and of taxes and pensions.

no reason to live, to get out of bed, nothing for, only against.

rusty pennies, I am going that way, if I let myself.

Wheres the Party At?

Did you today or ever get that feeling that the party, wherever it is happening is not here, where you are, but some twenty miles away out of earshot, sight and in secret from you except for the thousands of revellers out there having the knees up of their lives and the times of their lives. What would you give to be there with them sharing in the good times. Change the way you dress? Change the music you listen to? The party you voted for? Where you shop? How you decorate your room? Sure, JUST TELL ME WHERE THE PARTY IS AT.

 

Life Between Walls

Every day is life between walls,

The sun rises in the East and Sets in the West,

In Australia, the water swirls down the plughole in a different way,

In America, there are poisonous spiders hiding in your bathroom,

In Europe, there are pornographic books on your bookshelves, (and literature on the floor)

In the Arctic, you measure and calibrate the scientific fridge so nothing grows,

In Asia, you eat like a queen for rupees that wouldn’t buy chocolate back home,

In Pangaea, you set up an easel and capture the Mediterranean landlocked.

In Wonderland, you extract the DNA from the mushrooms and dream evil plans,

Between these walls is myspace that won’t be mine forever and the colours reflect insanity back to me.

Maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s what’s in my head, but when I look around I feel half dead.

These walls of Victorian lineage stood firm during two world wars and almost a third, well a War On Terror anyways.

And Kings and a Queen or two have come and gone too.

Between these walls is me and my conduit to the world via Visa and Wi-Fi.

Will it bring the world to me?

If I build it will you come to me?

Off the sea

I can hear the waves rushing in off the sea

I don’t know but to me this is poetry

Its like everyone is here from 1993

In the air is a poem carrying some psyence fiction

and in my throat a sound, like a moan but more guttural like a gorilla

Children of the age from Landon town in pink wearing a frown upside down

Marshmallows by the fire and suddenly its time! So soon. Back to my room.

And it’s the Seventies again tonite. Come on Eileen! Come on! We’re having fun.

David Bowie on a yacht asking me could it be so much fun. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Yes I can grab your gun we’re going for a run into town to see what’s going down

Hello, Titch, I’ve got a dog named Mitch back at home but here I’m all alone…

Alone in despair but I don’t care. I think I’m destined for better things.

What rhymes with this mote on my finger? Better things/ Golden Rings

Suddenly I’m ten again and the world seems to be very large. I play in a corner, alone.

Are you one of them? Or are you one of us? to which the only answer can be – I think I’m one of me.

Speedway on the track, no time for looking back into a grey haze on duvet days.

Another false dawn comes as no surprise to my eyes, my eyes, my eyes come as no surprise.

And blink and count back from ten. Then come looking for us.