Sandy Player Poems
|1.||The Sheep Gang||2/1/2013|
|3.||The Waiting Rooms Fish Tank||4/13/2013|
|4.||Pure Dripping Pure||12/30/2013|
|6.||To My Voice||12/30/2013|
|9.||In The Graves||2/14/2013|
|10.||Long Sable Torch||2/22/2013|
|13.||Doctor's Smoke Jar||2/1/2013|
|16.||Down The Drain||2/25/2013|
|17.||My Love Is A Red, Red Pool||9/4/2013|
|18.||A Tree Can'T Sing||9/4/2013|
|20.||Left Alone For Another Lifetime||4/20/2013|
It tastes sweet,
A syrupy figure of strawberry juice
Spiralling like a typhoon in the glass,
Tastes sweet as I kiss the rim
Into the corners of my mouth like
Two blunt knives.
I used to play a little with
The pills before hiding them away in me
One by one but
I crack the packets open this time
Like Christmas crackers
And take a suprise bomb; a bad joke.
The back of my mouth and the top of my throat
Wave on the first green coated hero
And the second doesn't stick either
But the next go in
As commandos whose cover is blown;
Like the poisonous...
The Children make a change of clothing;
Tightening up red scarves
And displaying hats as if helmets.
Their grandparents stay inside as they gear up.
Perhaps another tea for now,
Bought with more silver, steel and Chinese blood.
Iron petals of snowflakes fall like an industrial revolution,
Overnight the land is levelled wearing the same rich bridal dress