Scribbled Thoughts

21:40

Your special friend, you laugh in jest,

like it’s a funny mistake and

not one shredding at my heart.

People always assuming that because

you organised it, it is all your

money, only you work hard,

he belonged to you,

and I was not worthy of him.

Not my special friend.

21:39

Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.

He’s dead now, no pain can touch him.

Neither can you.

That’s your punishment for assuming

you know everything.

The next few poems were written after a beloved pet died.

21:38

How many litres of tears are you worth?

More than your little body ever held.

21:37

Hospice stuck in an industry park,

no calm signs of nature

to comfort the dying.

21:36

Not shaking the grass

to reveal the details within,

beneath,

around.

Wind captures in a dance

but its roots stay hidden.

Tease me all you want,

I will not reveal

my secrets.

21:35

A house for the dead

which only has one floor.

Coffins and urns shoved

and rearranged within all

available gaps. Corpse-neighbours

rattle in protest, dead flesh

whacking at wood invaders

in their dead-space.

Respect amongst the departed?

Decay-stench in protest,

ignored by noses that no

longer work. Throats trying

to remember forming words,

shouts, a way to be heard.

The lights are shut off

for the night.

They remain silent, dead to the world.

21:34

I hope you’re going to

pick up your dog’s pee!

It’s a disgrace, leaving it

for anyone to stand in.

I’d have to wash my shoes!

What if a child tried splashing

in it, or put it in their mouth?

The horror!

No, I insist you pick it up.

I don’t care how!

Soak it up with tissues, your clothes,

cup it in your hands.

LICK. IT. UP! Just do it!

Be responsible for your

pet’s bodily fluid.

Hey! Where are you going?

DON’T IGNORE ME!

21:33

Flash of blue

behind the gaps

in fences

teases a world

and life denied

to those outside.

Perhaps a party of

magic is taking place.

Small fairies gaze

through slits and

laugh at the ordinary

beyond, so dull

and stuck in

their repetition.

But the magic is

invisible, and so

the normal walks

past, never exploring

the possibilities

of blue wonder.

21:32

Trapped in the lane of

waiting, between action

and defeat.

Forced into stillness as

breath continues, time

passes but you cannot

move forward.

Flashing announcement

cancelled to prolong

the purgatory of continued

movement.

Wind teases hair into

chill, night already settled

in the sky, but no stars

visible at the station

of the stuck.

Distant sounds indicate life

but nothing touches the

bubble of the pathway

leading to this place.

No one joins you in

the in-between.

Bit of a backlog to share from last year. Some of them will be skipped if they’re to do with my submissions for my course.

21:31

Pump me full of

life that decays

away before you

find use of

me.

Leave me waiting

to be needed while

my insides turn

poisonous and

force foam from

my holes.

When nothing is left,

and your waste is

discovered, will

you fix me?

Or give up

entirely?