False Expectations

We sit in our square rooms
Watching as life is enacted upon
The retinas of our mind
Messy life reduced to edited script
How can we ever hope to measure up
To that glossy moving wonderland
Where even hair behaves so beautifully
Not a hint of frizzly humidity

Copyright November 2013

Filling Gaps in TV

I need a distraction
A justification
The TV set does not provide respite
The not so quiet hum of the refrigerator
Broken only by Westminster chimes
Bong bong ad nauseum for nine beats
Nine beats slap bang into my mind
I’m bored I think
It’s too early for bed
The Killing has not yet begun
This couch potato feels more like a pumpkin
A tough hide full of seeds and pulp inside
Add in a little spice
Blend me to a mushy mess
Drink me before the heat subsides
My ennui might be assuaged
If you cook me deep inside
Then wash me in the kitchen sink
A bubble bath of liquid fairy
Sprinkled with the dust of little folk
Migrated from the old country
Asylum seekers adrift on boats
Before their bones are crushed and powdered
Rendered into fat political footballs
Used to wash the dirt off smug mittelvolk
Who sit on couches
Waiting to be entertained
By moribund TV
And money
Back to sex and kitchen sinks
And a life dullened by a lack of imagination worthy of an accountant
I’m still waiting as the clocks tick
Out of sync with one another
I fly like Ophelia from room to room
Wishing Hamlet would arrive to beat his breasts
Send Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to their deaths
Anything to break the mundanity of me
I finish writing
Stop my brain from fashioning tales so deeply disturbing
It’s to Danish TV I flee
Nothing real will I ever see
Until I get over the fact of me

Copyright September 2013

Rebus Lost


Is sex on a stick

In my memory


As I watch

My distance from life grows

My mind knows

That my sensual prose

Should involve

John Hannah

I should be tingling

With sexual joy

My emotions

Should not be stuck

In a dark pit

Of black and blue


Behind the barrier

Of the TV screen

When John

Works his acting magic

In an Edinburgh accent

A picture

Of a puzzle

A rebus


Behind pain


Copyright Jan 2013



On the verge

Of falling

Into oncoming traffic

Barrelling down relentlessly

A convoy of thoughts

Driven by despair

A sleepless despair

Which verges

On the ridiculous

At 4:00am

With the TV blaring

Into insomnia

As Humphrey Bogart

Joins Gina Lollobrigida

To beat down the devil

Before dawn arrives

With kookaburras

And the devil laughs

Watching me teetering

On the verge

Of falling

Into the face

Of oncoming



Copyright Dec 2012