Town Crier

With inspiration from Maya Angelou’s “Still I Rise” and John Cooper Clarke’s “Twat”

Like some sick infected creature
Seeking shelter in the night
I’m a sore excuse for patience,
When you’ve sucked it all from sight.

Like a sagging little snot rag,
You’ve been filled with lots of goo
And the green unwanted dust
Of other peoples’ misfortunes.

Does my cheery face confuse you?
Does it make you feel upset?
Would you rather I applaud my fears,
Or cheer them better yet?

Is it pleasurable, my dear,
To pour your heart out to the mist?
Something fading, something passive,
That could not care more to piss?

It’s so pitiful to watch you
Waste away with grief and shame
But I think it’s kind of funny
That you think I caused you pain!

For those fools who think your moping
Is a reason I should care
Don’t know that your trembling fingers
On my head have trapped my hair.

You’re a lecherous town crier,
Crying verses made of air
First a snivel, then a current,
Then a typhoon of despair!

Oh dear brother with your moaning,
Find some well to drown your cries
We won’t hear you on the bedrocks
And you’ll still be none the wise.

Are you quite sure you’re unneeded?
Are you quite sure you’re a pain?
Well I think you’ve struck sound reason, love,
Cause I feel just the same!

Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry

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The Man with No Heart

so you take from the dirt what you can,
we weepers have a hard time in maine
hard he struck at the dirt with a few words
and he desperately prayed for the rain.

there aren’t that many people with souls left
but you’re after the ones with no heart
and though mother had said it’d be tiring
you can see that’s what sets them apart.

he is walking around with his maker
quiet smiling not saying a word
and you didn’t run off with the baker
though he always made sure you were heard

in the late night the forest was empty
it was nighttime and nobody stirred
but the man with no heart said come with me
i’ve the back of my horse and a bird.

Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry

Stream of Consciousness Number 13: Still Dreaming

while finding the crevases in the road
the earth swells before me
lost in some unturned dreamworld
where the cantonese i hear
is strange mangled French.
please tell me I’m dreaming
please tell me I’m asleep
please tell me no one can find me here
please tell me someone will find me here
love will find me here
you will sneak up on me like my lover
the house will crash
and its still a nightmare
the air is still and chilly
you say that
we are good
together
but i say thats the last thing you dumbo
how are we supposed to fly with those ears?
you have the fattest lips
the biggest nose
the longest neck
and the smallest toes
OH HOW
did i think you looked smart
on those walks in the park
eating shrimp and ice cream
i think it was a dream
and the songs we would sing
were childrens rhyme
what a strange mad
time
when it was just you and i

x x x x x x x x x x

I feel young
I feel strange
the sides of the road always carry spare change
so keep watch
of the lights
and the lampposts at night and the devilish sight of the stream
and im still in a dream

x x x xx xx x x

realizing the sound of subsiding dreams
is the strangest things
you are hearing me now i don’t even know how but through glass
no sound will pass
so how the hell can you hear me this well
when i scream
cant you see
I’m begging you please
set me free
i thought we were just playing
I’m your friend
not you foe
why don’t i make it up so you can let me go
ill be good
and charming
and not as alarming
and sweet
and charming and neat
ill do all of your clothes
i adore your small toes
no really i do
and the size of your shoe
all of it
is just the right fit
for me
i take everything i say
unseriously
please
make sure you don’t leave me
here

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

While I Contimplate Your Sanity

when we saw of each other, i figured we lied

and that was the first thing that struck me as right.

 

the thing I’ve begun to ask is

what’s the truth behind your word is?

 

and all of this

which is

 

you lying

and me smiling

like a child.

 

what classifies a fib?

charm glib?

 

well

I’m beginning to tell

and boy, is it swell.

 

you have me like a butterfly

I’m stuck and I just need to try

 

it’s under the rocks that I sweat

it’s in the dirt I start to forget,

 

but you

sleek, smooth

powder proof

and gold tooth

 

that smile is like a slate

being drawn upon the grate

slowly un-knotting me

 

slowly

 

till

that  lie

seems  just right.

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

 

 

Rhyming exercise #1– Last week outing

cheap bowling
fast park strolling
little outing
small doubting
indigestion
simple question
now lies the answer
the african dancer
and in me
i see a tree
just an inkling
stars start twinkling
beat starts pounding
love astounding
oh to die
to live and sigh
and break the walls
and hear that sigh-
its how life is
(i wonder why.)

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry

“Agnus Angst”

As the new years begin
Im a lost little stranger
running vainly from danger
that’s crowding me in.

so its all the same me
only just slightly older
and just slightly bolder
and slightly fourteen.

what is it that they like?
that they always look
for?
what’s this thing they talk of?
of the girl that’s next door?
can’t see? you shut them up!
I’m not her, she’s a bore!

(come on, the day is just so clear, Octavius
just look around Octavius
don’t dumb and smile Octavius
be mature:
Im fourteen with spunk,
but at least I can be demure)

I can’t pick out my friends
and instead of just you
you might give me the flu
give me something to do!
(yes, multitask!
you don’t have to ask!
be an octopus!
get the doctor, wuss! )
okay, but you’re the one whose crazy, dude.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry

Allen Alexander

Simply the sound of your feet, like snowflakes

Will bid me farewell, and reflect on the lakes.

Another swan swam back at me

Another Life returneth be.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry

Blackberries

P.S -there is supposed to be a break every two lines but unless I upgrade this blog, I will never be allowed stanzas (boo hoo)

Blackberries

This blackberry darkness turns faery ghost white,

And the dawn shakes the dust off the cold hungry night.

And the demons and goblins and witches agree,

And the moon rising up and the sun setting down,

And the black of the evening comes in with a “BOOM”

And the thousands of eyes coming into the town.

Little lakes leave their poise and their placid overlay,

Stretch out hundreds of years to the rock and the bay.

And I ponder, beside these, on rocks by that pool,

Near a thunderstorm’s clash when the morning is cool

And the summer’s awaiting to pick and be plucked,

Int his vast open world, there the baskets are tucked

And in Summer when hotter the juice of a fruit,

Set to sonnet and music and Zither and Lute

And the blueberries blue, and the blackberries white,

when they crush, when they melt, leave unturned in the light

And in Swarthering winters, they wither and die,

Left to moan in the cabins, to yearn and to cry

But their songs never cease, in the cabins they frost,

And in frozen young Winters the berries are lost.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry