darkness
waits
the
trap
sprung

silence
slips
softly
between
tongues

Caution –Contains hot liquid

Down at the park
God tossed big sticks
to his favourite dogs

picking mushrooms
to boil in a tasty goulash
he invited me for supper

I had no appetite then
but wished him
bon appetit
as I sipped
a takeaway
Latte

Husband doing chores wearing his wife’s negligee

Extolling the virtues of a cynical disposition, he reclines
in his righteous dependency. Not for him the stoic indifference
of the TV judge, or the sheep like bleating from the
sporting spouse, each despised with equal smugness.

As it was or is, so shall it always be.

So they cancelled the old time dancing on account of
the weather, but Johnny Cash was playing on the radio,
which suits him fine. It’s his age though, he never used
to get these social malfunctions until they killed Saturday
night, and half buried the body so the memory would linger.

Rainy days and workdays always get me down.

His Father said as much during disagreeable lectures.
But he’s gone now, except for every morning when he
winks from the bathroom mirror. He knew all along
the old sod, but never gave the slightest warning of the
troubles to come, damn them all to hell.

The more things change the more they’ll stay the same, or not.

So he sighs, and tries to embrace what must come to pass.
But it’s all weird, political correctness gone rogue and hunted
down like a rabid bunny, what’s up doc! Now time coshes
with the blunt reminder of the tasks at hand, as he takes to
his chores wearing his wife’s negligee.

Six hundred savage defeatists
Brought about a slight change
In national morality

Gone, all the bee bop
Rogues who once stood
On every parallel corner
Twirling sweaty bandanas
Round fat pig greased fingers

Banished, all the subversive
Swingers, who terminally
Undecided, rocked the boat
One beat time too often,
And floundered with
A cheery wave ta ta

the more
I write
the less
I become

words slip
unrefined
from frail
imagination
flowers unfurl
to be molested
for literary beauty

and lovers caress
for the pleasure
of a dirty old
poet

Snowman

See the snow, how it falls like confetti
On a union of concrete and frost
And it sits like a sheet of obsession
With the comfort that comes from remorse

But the snowman you built to remind you
Holds a grin that he carries with pride
And the pipe that you gave him to ponder
Was the gun that you held at his side

So you garnished his coat with some buttons
That you bought from a charity store
And you fastened each one with a warning
How there never could be anymore

Now your snowman stands solid and silent
As he patiently waits for the thaw
That will come in the times of pretension
For he’s only a snowman, that’s all

Pass this tongue-to-tongue

I have escaped
persecution
for my contempt

oppression
for my indifference

intolerance
for my indecision

and betrayal for my
Indulgences

Gather in the Lilies white
Before they fall like snow
Upon the frosted rendezvous
We tainted long ago
Before our breath began to freeze
This promise in the air
That winter’s lonely shawl be cast
Some miles away from here