out it comes

 out it comes

and then it comes

slowly at first

the incoming smile 

then in full spate

my arms open wide

an intake of breath 

salts the main brace 

of another great swim

A ride on the tube ~ a prose poem

 A ride on the tube ~ a prose poem

Subliminal; buried beneath the noise is the noise. Everyday’s commute muted as the mundane. The track of a thought is caught whereas the clatter of the track’s squealing becomes nought. The lullaby of the carriage swaying my eyes to close upon the dark windows. The dark thoughts of the person behind the opposite reflection are an eye into my dark thoughts. Ad_um_brated the points clatter and I smile inside at my growing collection of words. The lighted reflection of the clamour of laughter lightens my demeanour. Now there’s a word for my essay I smile surreptitiously. Now there’s another word I think and that thought smiles into the light of the next platform. Not my stop. Don’t want to stop this merry go around of abstracted creativity. Even as the cables outside undulate into the next tunnel my smile is personalised to me alone. Not one snake knows me or my thoughts I think, neither I theirs. This black and white journey colours my thinking. We all sway in unison our separation lost in the timelessness of our thoughts. Schuum ~ the doors open ~ I get off on it again. 

enough tears

 enough tears

if you say enough

if enough words say

that is enough tears

they will still flow

down the cataract years

white water spittled

into eyes that flinch

at flinching

stay shut and blinkered

for what can one do 

but look forward to the end

of another’s beginning 

theatrical prop

 theatrical prop

my mother had a prop

down in the garden

flat on the bottom 

a V on the top

all the washing on the line

they blew just fine

until to pulley broke

and oh my god no joke

all hell broke loose

that bloody noose

that V on the top

was the bottom line

i swear it was

i saw it see 

just like yesterdee

it was

hospital vigil

 hospital vigil

it’s the little things

where you place it

your longing 

your ambivalence 

about going or staying

and the thin gruel of time

dripping away in a rush

what the bloody hell

stuck in the drain like

like a shedding

the mixer

with one tap running

how can it possibly work

hot turned to a cold why

why do i scream why

so silently

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springboard

 springboard

on the edge of the sage’s

flowering 

now the bluebells

push aside the cranesbill

the garden’s border wall

has lift off

bees the flight directors

on this flat top all at sea

sunned in waves down

the cat’s purring back

what’s next the thought

of the next one to think

isn’t it just wonderful