I smashed a yankee
candle in the bathroom,
glass shattering!
all around the bowl,
in it, picking out shards,
I tried to sleep, couldn't,
so I cleaned out Pluto's
cage....
this is the 'real',
with my brown robe
rolled up above the wrists,
there was some old baked
beans,
with a dry skin of orange
in a pan,
they looked slightly alien,
their little forms
all taut together,
then the Sun came out
and ran back in,
I didn't succeed
and then I did,
but only because
I formed the impression
that I had,
I still haven't,
but I have,
the arguement continues
into my fifties,
things will roll along
on their own accord,
conscience and guilt
always want to play with me,
what you do with all that
erections?
(serves you right) ,
maybe I'm turning into Anne Sexton?
(with the bits)
there's not enough humour,
and a lack of the real hiding
all around me,
I need laughing gas,
not Sylvia Plath,
(no offence Queen
of the she Poets,)
have to go and round
up all those scant things
I paint,
smudges of proof,
I don't know,
things to keep you sane,
and the word brush,
it makes a grimy splash,
on the big dirty
mantle of time....
'we—poets of the world—wish to make our voices resonate in the minds and hearts of all women and men who refuse to be silenced by hate and violence.' by the way.. c.110 copies of our ebook ''POETRY AGAINST TERROR'' have been downloaded in 4 days so, let's say everybody: download our book ''POETRY AGAINST TERROR'' at Amazon. com - Amazon Kindle Store - it's FREE till tomorrow, January Friday 15
Hello Grant! our book is ready at this very moment it's in revision by Amazon. In a few hours (6-12 hs) it will be online - - - - - But wait my email....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Smudges of proof, I don't know, things to keep you sane That sounds right! Thanks for sharing, Grant!