We were alone together In this long thin sitting room. I would draw on my laptop, While he stared out at the moon. We were alone together Now I’m alone, alone. I am studying poetry His number's not on my new phone. We were alone together As I sat by his hospital bed. He still didn’t speak but then he winked As I laid my cool hand on his head. I wish I could be there now beside you Together and never alone I wish I could there be with you quietly And you were not cold as this stone.
Day: January 4, 2017
The top deck of the bus
The bus is late and I’m
Thinking of what you said,
trying to understand, but
I’ve never met you, so
I have nothing but written words
Which, however beautiful, may not give
enough for me to truly imagine
the depths of your heart.
My legs hurt and I have a cane
But I don’t like it.I can’t accept
my own infirmity, my troubles,
my pains, my disagreements, my mistakes.
Rain falls over me and drips down the lens
in my spectacles, as if the world is weeping
the tears I can’t shed.
If I cried now, standing at the bus stop,
for all the years of pain
no-one would know, they’d
think it was just
raindrops running down my cheeks.
The bus comes, but it’s half term…
The shops are too crowded, I can’t
Stand in queues…imagine how most of you
say it’s boring.Well, I’d love to do it
but I’ve decided the pain is greater
than the rewards.
The bus driver stops at a place where
the pavement has been lowered to allow
the owner of this house to drive
their car into the front garden
so they won’t need to buy
a resident’s parking permit.
It makes it a harder task to descend
from the bus and I hope he won’t
start while I’m still getting down.
In the coffee bar are exhibits from
a local museum, and I think, one day
my cane and my watch from Argos,
my shopping bag with a picture of Monet-
such vulgarity…..
they may be in a museum too…
along with my door keys
my bike lock and my spectacles
and will somebody try to conjure me up
in their imagination.
Someone who used to like Topology
Knitting, writing and holding hands with lovers
on the top deck of the bus
crossing central London without noticing
anything except their reflections in the eyes
of the other.
Light bounces to and fro.
My mind shuts down, the words
packed away in boxes, till there’s only
you and me and a few elementary particles
trying to recreate the world
with the big bang
that will end it all.
Thinking of what you said,
trying to understand, but
I’ve never met you, so
I have nothing but written words
Which, however beautiful, may not give
enough for me to truly imagine
the depths of your heart.
My legs hurt and I have a cane
But I don’t like it.I can’t accept
my own infirmity, my troubles,
my pains, my disagreements, my mistakes.
Rain falls over me and drips down the lens
in my spectacles, as if the world is weeping
the tears I can’t shed.
If I cried now, standing at the bus stop,
for all the years of pain
no-one would know, they’d
think it was just
raindrops running down my cheeks.
The bus comes, but it’s half term…
The shops are too crowded, I can’t
Stand in queues…imagine how most of you
say it’s boring.Well, I’d love to do it
but I’ve decided the pain is greater
than the rewards.
The bus driver stops at a place where
the pavement has been lowered to allow
the owner of this house to drive
their car into the front garden
so they won’t need to buy
a resident’s parking permit.
It makes it a harder task to descend
from the bus and I hope he won’t
start while I’m still getting down.
In the coffee bar are exhibits from
a local museum, and I think, one day
my cane and my watch from Argos,
my shopping bag with a picture of Monet-
such vulgarity…..
they may be in a museum too…
along with my door keys
my bike lock and my spectacles
and will somebody try to conjure me up
in their imagination.
Someone who used to like Topology
Knitting, writing and holding hands with lovers
on the top deck of the bus
crossing central London without noticing
anything except their reflections in the eyes
of the other.
Light bounces to and fro.
My mind shuts down, the words
packed away in boxes, till there’s only
you and me and a few elementary particles
trying to recreate the world
with the big bang
that will end it all.
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And that was the end of the world tonight.
Hello,Mrs Blogge.What can I do for you this nice morning?
Oh,I’ve got a nasty odd pain in my conundrum,doctor.
Are you being careful in your speech?
I’m always careful.
No,I mean, are you using a euphemism?
No,I am on the pill.Is a euphemism better for preventing babies?
Look here, tell me what is really wrong with you?
It’s a complete conundrum to me and my family
Well,it will be so for me as well unless you tell me where and what it is.
It’s a pain in my testicle.
But you are a lady.
That’s what people think.
Well,surely somebody would have seen before now.
It’s only just dropped.
That’s very odd.
Yes,it is as usually testicles come in pairs.
I don’t know what to say.
Well,it’s just a conundrum.
Maybe I should examine you.
I am in a hurry and you need a chaperone.
No,I can use gloves.
What,put a glove on my testicle!
Well,let’s just wait and see whether it progresses.Come back if you feel worried about it.
Is it wrong to be a hermaphrodite?
What a stupid question.How can it be wrong when you can’t control it.You didn’t make the testicle grow.
Yes ,being a hermaphrodite does give one stronger sexual desires as like with a worm there’s more possibilities.
I really don’t fancy sex with a worm myself
But if you loved it the worm then you might cuddle it
They have no faces so they all look the same.
They used to say all black people looked the same to the whites even though they have eyes and faces and expressions.
Oh,I’ve got a nasty odd pain in my conundrum,doctor.
Are you being careful in your speech?
I’m always careful.
No,I mean, are you using a euphemism?
No,I am on the pill.Is a euphemism better for preventing babies?
Look here, tell me what is really wrong with you?
It’s a complete conundrum to me and my family
Well,it will be so for me as well unless you tell me where and what it is.
It’s a pain in my testicle.
But you are a lady.
That’s what people think.
Well,surely somebody would have seen before now.
It’s only just dropped.
That’s very odd.
Yes,it is as usually testicles come in pairs.
I don’t know what to say.
Well,it’s just a conundrum.
Maybe I should examine you.
I am in a hurry and you need a chaperone.
No,I can use gloves.
What,put a glove on my testicle!
Well,let’s just wait and see whether it progresses.Come back if you feel worried about it.
Is it wrong to be a hermaphrodite?
What a stupid question.How can it be wrong when you can’t control it.You didn’t make the testicle grow.
Yes ,being a hermaphrodite does give one stronger sexual desires as like with a worm there’s more possibilities.
I really don’t fancy sex with a worm myself
But if you loved it the worm then you might cuddle it
They have no faces so they all look the same.
They used to say all black people looked the same to the whites even though they have eyes and faces and expressions.
Do we need faces to love
We need them to kiss.
And what is life without a kiss?
Ask a worm.They seem to have a good life with no wars and worries.
No,they can’t use guns,can they?
Well,not to shoot with.
So the answer is to get rid of people and just have worms. and beetles.
The way the world is going this may happen quite soon.
It’s a terrible conundrum..
Well,I am very euphemistic.
Do you mean optimistic?
Bang
And that was the end of the world tonight.
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The face within your face
You revealed the face within your face Human,lowly, humbler than an ant The pathos in your eyes made sad my gaze The other face, defended, has no grace With it,you appear quite confident. Yet you revealed to me your hidden face I know now of the suffering of your days A fear of tragic pasts feared imminent The pathos in your eyes made sad my gaze The Lord says you’re his lamb and sends you grace. Yet you must hide from men intolerant You revealed the face within your face Like Jesus, you were scourged and in disgrace You wandered feebly,lost, itinerant The pathos in your eyes makes sad my days If God exists then would he not embrace The lost, the lonely mad,the poor vagrant? You revealed the face within your face The pathos in your eyes is our disgrace.
How my heart sings 