the leavened cake
how the years cut up
a cake once shared now falls apart
on memory’s candle the wax is slowly setting
once the flow of tears now the icing on the cake
septuagenarian
doesn’t that sound like a stick rattling along a fence
way back to childhood
before we met there was no cake to ice
now the cake spills crumbs of comfort
let us blow the candles out together
with love’s closed eyes
it’s an (un)fair cop
i have a blank piece of paper in my mind
there is a poem written on it in invisible ink
i did not write it
an immaculate conception
i do not agree or disagree with it
ok
hands up
it’s a fair cop
it was homeopathic water
a grain of truth
no more
just a grain
against the grain
future imperfect
one thing haunts me
and that is that
the perturbative thought that the longevity of mankind
as a species
will end
the specie of thought
laid golden in every poem that ever was
will never again be read
no cognisance in the genes
of the survivors
no heart to thump
at their words
to see with the deep sea’s eye
and the sea is that power
to raise and turn and lower
to flash dark and light thoughts
at the same time
there is no time
to grasp the eternal before a gasp
sends the adrenalin fountain up
beyond the sun into the darkness
that tell’s life’s lie
that we are it
when patently we are not
adjust
i curate the cures for hate ~ but there are none
they are as incurable as they are incorrigible
broken hearts are two a penny
and i haven’t any pennies
i have pinned their iridescent carapaces
the thick skinned burrowers
many a sarcophagus entombs a wry smile
staring at the keyhole
the dust ready to pounce
and another thing
your game keepers
brought me my tea this morning
i am not mourning
that
is a fact of life
this dying bit
is there a throne in heaven
who waiteth as a right
on you or me
or any old body
think while you can said the atheist
a dung beetle rolled past
carrying sorry
succession to a throne
the lens of time
at this point in time
focuses minds
or blurs in myopia
yet the sun
through an eye of a needle
dazzles
