Right

The way society works
Is to reach an invisible
Hand in to crush a heart
Without warning
As a selfish man reaps
The rewards of coming
First in the evolutionary race
The rights of two
More important than one
Solid friends need
Close stimulation
The exhausting experience
Of invasive spacial perception.
I see the hazard light
Flash in my eyes
Who am I to refuse?
Security, remove this bastard
From the bus.
I’m in the wrong, and I know it
But despite the hostile muttering
Not a punch was thrown
But inwardly I dig myself
A little shelter
For the four hour siege
Trying not to eat
The sensitive areas of brain
Sometimes, it’s best to forget
The momentary lapses
Of your own contradictions

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Right

Flake

Brushing off loose
White flakes, powdery
Talc fizzles gently
Through the air
Leaving a brief residue
Fleeting dust, settling
As individual parts
Where light cannot penetrate.
Blinking cartoon eyes
Wide and white, watching
From the dark, words
Vibrate meaning, strength
To carry loaded terms
Till the boulder flecks its flint
Floorward fleeing
The structural sleeve
It disintegrates to ash
An urn to mourn an ancient feeling
The anxiety of being alone
When people rush by
Without any thought
Off to lick a cool wafered cone
As solid cream slowly melts
In the searing midday heat
The bleached white expands
Spread along the matted grey stone
Spilling out lengthways
Leaving a flake, exposed
Atop the splattered mess

Flake

Apz

An Australian animal
Bit by bit by bit
Came crashing
Down dangerous descent
Elegant
Footing
Graciously greeting
Hidden hives
In isolation
Just joined
Knowing knocks
Lovers lie lapped
Made mammal mad
No-one needs
Open Offices
Punctual performance
Quite quick queries
Rat race registers
Stunted sheep sleep
Time to team
Up under umbrellas unified
Vexed violet
Women watching
X-Rated
Youth
Zoos

Apz

Vegetable

The words are freshly mown
Neatly trimmed, grammatically
Combed overboard with
Coarse hairs, unsuitable
Lengthy delays between iteration
And utteration. Utterly untenable
Position, a feckless foray
The patch so clean, I could
Grow a batch of polite verbs
Between the earth, and weep
At the risk adverse neon light
By torchlight, we muck in
Never touched a rake
When the light was this dim
Did you expect me to toil
In this heat? Fragrant flecks
Of fucking, and getting
Oneself fucked
Oft offer an array of
Prize winning vegetables
With a lot of meaning
Packed into each tiny
Tomato sized punch

Vegetable

Mouth

I blurt the words
Like I haven’t seen
A soul for
A hundred years
Darkly comical
To be left alone
Stretching my head
Between the two walls
Like plasticine
Clay modelled
Heart not quite
Beating, pulling
A doll’s body
Out of my mouth
With surprising dexterity
To my surprise
It spoke vividly
Of my depths
Fluid, coarse
Questionable lumps
Of fast food
Untouched, even by
Single cell life.
In the end
Thirty-two more
Came up
From the pit
My stomach acid
Burning some alive, some
Glaring, deadly serious
From the trauma
They’d seen
Blank looks
All hit them
When I told them
This wasn’t the top
The mountain ascends
Further west we trek
The harder it is to sustain
A mouth that stretched
Erupting lifeless
Plastics swept
Out to sea
To join the rest

Mouth

Steam

You were born
I’m thankful for that
Each time I glance over
The way the muscles
On your face flex
Beaming, like sunlight
Happy, in-between flutters
When a shortness of breath
Can’t keep up with the pace of my heart
It’s good to see your skin
Hasn’t aged a day
I gently fold over each crease
Softly pressing down
Sizzling steam
Pours out
The words nearly came out too
This year
Greetings of health
Wellness, and long life
Caught in a coughing fit
They escaped from my throat
Under my breath
But no matter
There’s always next year
When your face will be clean
Ready to wear
Ironed and steamed

Steam

Books

The books fell through the night, I guess
But even I can tell the difference
Between an accident and theft
They were torn at the edges
Like your nightdress
A chapter spilling out
To reveal an important verb
It has four letters, sometimes seven
It’s the way that it’s told
Not the words themselves
Words never hurt
It’s the tone of your voice

The books fell through the night, I guess
I was soundly counting
The machines that compress
Shepherds to sheep
Sheep herds to meat
The bleating ringing louder
Than my electric dreams

The books fell throughout the night, I guess
Their ghosts came off the page
To throw themselves in protest
At not being read
Arrest them
Like noble champions of a cause
They become the folly of the floor
But the shelves are replenished
With a print waiting to fall

The books fell through the night, I guess
It was an accidental stacking
Procedural caress
I could only love them from afar
Hanging close enough to brood
Each end neatly laid
But seldom will I be soothed
The voice trapped inside
Bumps closer to the edge
But I will not lay and draw warmth
From any of them again

Books