Five Minutes

Thanks for five minutes,
It’s nice to know someone cares,
Those five minutes were golden,
I’m ready to move forward.

Gone

My energy is draining
From my weary toes
My passion is flowing freely
From my broken nose
My good grace is completely missing
I’ve not seen it for some time
My outlook is defeatist
When once it was sublime
Where did my passion go?
I need it, need it now
My shoulder’s bruised and bleeding
Pushing this old plough
What I need is a tonic
A serum from the shelf
For God forbid that I should ever
Try to help myself

Tension Eased

For some time you have troubled me,
Your actions were unclear,
I found myself not trusting you,
Whenever you were near.
Your intentions were somewhat murky,
Not what I would expect,
I found it hard to give you any measure
Of professional respect.
Then I spoke with you recently,
And clearly did I see,
Your personality was familiar,
You are just like me.
I was reacting to the similarity,
You probably felt it too,
You often made me somewhat tense,
I had that effect on you.
I’m pleased to have had this epiphany,
We can work more closely together,
I’ll trust you in the sunny times,
And through the stormy weather.

Situational Analysis

With holidays my life changed rapidly,
Gone were the deadlines and the phone,
I could choose to be with people,
Or choose to be alone.
Food was taken at a whim,
The clock didn’t matter,
My clothes did not match each other,
Covered in old paint splatter.
I could choose to smile or not,
To follow activities at a whim,
The opinions of others were congruent,
All was right within.

With work my life changed rapidly,
The return of the deadlines and the phone,
I was surrounded by people with agendas,
I’d never be alone.
Food was taken where it could,
The clock became my universe,
My attire was congruent with the corporate,
My tie was very terse.
I could choose to smile or not,
Real? Only I would know,
The opinions of others were all considered,
And forward we would go.

We’re all a part of rapid change,
Communication and deadlines included,
We’re part of many social situations,
Nowhere is excluded.
We eat when we feel the need,
Time is always there,
The situation suggests our demeanour,
And what we choose to wear.
We choose wether to smile or not,
Opinions frequently run rife,
For whilst the scene changes the person doesn’t,
And we call this fact, “Life.”

No Answer

I know you know it’s me calling,
How do I know this truth?
Because you won’t answer the phone,
No matter what time I call.
I know you don’t want to speak to me,
The conversation will be hard,
But avoiding it makes it harder still,
And it won’t simply go away.
I know this is how we got to here,
Not talking about such tings,
It’s too late for us to salvage us,
But not too late to learn from this.
So, pick up the phone next time,
Let’s talk and say what needs saying,
And promise ourselves that next time,
We’ll say what needs saying.

Reputation

I’ve heard all about you,
Your tantrums and your tears,
You really awake my deepest tensions,
And activate my fears.
The way you stalk people near you,
The swearing and the rage,
You are an anachronism,
A dinosaur from another age.

I meet you for the first time,
You’re cordial and polite,
You help me with so many things,
And set the issues right.
You show me that gossip’s ugly,
That stories are often wrong,
That I’ve been fooled by others,
A sucker all along.

New Puppy

All you do is bite me,
And run around the house,
And leave me little presents everywhere,
As my frustration I espouse.
I thought you would be fun,
But you only make me weep,
I can’t wait for the joyous time,
When you fall asleep.


All you do is sleep all day,
And stir, the sleep so more,
And eat, then go back to sleep,
You really are a bore.
I thought you would be fun,
But you really are a fake,
I can’t wait for the joyous time,
When you are awake.

Opinion Day

Sometimes I get sick of being PC,
Though it is today’s way,
So, from time to time I’m declaring,
We have Opinion Day.
Don’t be rude of ignorant,
Nasty or confined,
Just be honest and truthful,
And plainly speak your mind.
It should only be a rare thing,
And it should be logical and fair,
And accept the opinions of others,
And it should clear the air.

Product Evolution

It started out being free,
And was a great idea,
People joined from miles around,
The future of was so clear.
Its popularity soared accordingly,
The product was so great,
It became an icon to the masses,
And it they did appreciate.
Interest expanded to the corporate world,
They were impressed by what they saw,
Access to many people nationally,
And internationally so many more.
So, the rolled their sleeves up and dove in,
Made the owners an impressive pitch,
So, now the product is not personal,
To the corporate world to switch.
They tinkered with the design format,
To make it “more complete”,
Then killed off similar products,
So they did not have to compete.
Now it’s not free to use,
It doesn’t work as well,
Most of the features have disappeared,
What the flipping Hell?
People left in their droves,
Jaded they have grown,
Sometimes good ideas only need one thing –
To be simply left alone.

I'm Tired

I’m tired of being used and used
I’m tired of being taken for granted
I’m tired of listening to your problems
And you not listening to mine.
I’m tired of being so accountable
For things that don’t involve me.
I’m tired of feeling constantly pressured
Of running and never catching up.
I’m tired of things not working properly
I’m tired of having to fix them
I’m tired of doing your dirty work
Yet having to give you credit.
I’m tired of being disappointed
I’m tired of your petty squabbles
But most of all I am the most tired
Of simply feeling tired of things.
It would be so easy to walk away
To leave this morass behind.
But if I wasn’t here to give it order,
What mess would it be in then?

Free

Your lifeless form below me
Smoking gun in my hand
What can I tell the world
To make it understand?
The situation became untenable
I had to set me free
Life will now be more simple
I can live my life for me.

Tangent Paths

I’ve not been here for some time,
The one that has is strange,
Everything that I worked so hard to achieve,
He has seen fit to change.
I’ll be back soon to take the reins,
But I’m not keen to do so,
For we will have moved in different directions,
On different paths we now go.
What tensions will then arise?
What new things do we believe?
What opportunities will this create?
What remarkable things can we achieve?

The Start of Something Special

My hands caress your shimmering skin,
Trembling with anticipation,
Cool to the touch, yet on fire,
With a deep-seated vibration.
I wait a moment, savouring,
Moments like this are rare,
We are at the beginning of something special,
My soul is now laid bare.
My very being is here entire,
I’ll give everything to you,
For I’m in front of my Xbox 360,
And the game that’s in is new.

I’m a V8

My car was made in nineteen seventy,
Me in sixty five,
I look at the two of us,
It’s like we’re both alive.
Both approaching middle age,
We scoff at old and young,
Not so slow that we’re disadvantaged,
When it comes to fun.
We both laugh at the new models,
Me at the kids today,
It of power-absolute-ly-every-thing,
And muted interiors of gray.
We both laugh at the old models,
Me of the wrinkly set,
It at the models old and decrepit,
In them no-where you will get.
Our bodies are both showing age,
You’ll find the odd dent,
In places rust is showing through,
And our steering arms are bent.
Our springs are starting to sag a little,
Noises come from our rear,
We don’t respond each and every time,
When us someone tries to steer.
But give us the open road,
Where freedom plays its part,
We’ll show you all a thing or two,
For what matters is the heart.

Friday Afternoon

The clock sweeps with obvious reticence,
Three o’clock it’s to impale,
But the action seems to be slowing,
Like an impossible economy of scale.
Seconds seem to be infinitely elastic,
Like a crippled snail in warm tar,
What seemed to be so tantalizingly close,
Seems to be unattainably far.
Then, without warning the digits align,
The school bell announces the week-end,
Howls of delight echo of every surface,
Heralding of future joy to spend.
Don’t get me wrong about attitudes,
This place is not a zoo,
It’s just they prefer not to be at school,
And the students think this way too.

Hairy

I was sick of shaving every day,
So I merely stopped,
No more razors and shaving cream,
Needed when we shopped.
The whiskers reveled in their freedom,
Living on easy street,
They blossomed and accelerated,
Now they reach down to my feet.
I’ve given up wearing clothes,
Them you could not see,
Now you can’t differentiate,
Between a St Bernard and me.
Cousin It had nothing on,
The Furry One that is me,
I rustle when the wind blows,
In a whispering symphony.
I deposit hair wherever I go,
And somewhat like a snail,
You can tell where I have been,
Because I leave a trail,
But although I have saved some money,
On shaving and hair cuts too,
What I’ve saved has then been spent,
On conditioner and shampoo.

You Fill Up My Senses

I love the way your eyes see me,
Reflecting our good natured fun,
They way they promise without fear,
And see the good times to come.
I love the way your nose wrinkles,
Drinking in every scent,
Matching them to our life together,
And of the places that we went.
I love the way your ears strain,
To capture every sound,
The giggles, the whispers, the moans and laughter,
In my pleasures you abound.
I love the way you taste the moment,
And savour every bite,
The way you appraise every morsel,
From the break of day to night.
I love the way you touch my skin,
With revered eccentricity,
You transform me with your touch,
And its electricity.
You fill up my senses so completely,
In ways I can’t explain,
I hope I’m not like John Denver,
And crash in a light plane,

Saturday Night

Saturday night was again upon us,
A relaxing night ahead,
The kids had kissed us good night,
And toddled off to bed.
The phone chirruped with alarming urgency,
Charlie let out a moan,
She was watching her favourite program,
But it was me on my mobile phone,
“Now you’re up get some chips,
And some chocolate I think,
And while you’re in the kitchen,
I’d like another drink.”

Corpse Love

You smile your winning smile,
Your lips a glistening red,
But I see them peel outwards,
Because for months you have been dead.
Your arms clasp mine affectionately,
Guiding me to our bed,
The flesh sloughs off in rabid ribbons,
The nightmare rocks my head.
You hold me close to your body,
The pustules strain and break,
Your putrid flesh stains and revolts me,
And forms a rancid lake.
I can see through your desiccated skull,
Your head is void of matter,
Your skin is marred and marked and mottled,
From your death throe’s splatter.
You repulse me, but I’ll remain,
Our love is just a lie,
What we had has been long dead,
But with fortitude I’ll get by.
I know you’ve been sleeping elsewhere,
I’ll continue because I must,
Until I can leave with impunity,
Then all you’ll see is dust.

World Problems Solved

The world comes into sharper focus,
Women now I understand,
Einstein was almost right,
But his work needed my hand.
I’ve solved Africa’s starvation crisis,
The deserts I can irrigate,
I can reconcile the warring nations,
This now seems to be my fate.
This alcohol has made me brilliant,
No longer a mere sheep,
I can solve the world’s problems,
But first I need a sleep.

I awaken with a terrific hangover,
Remembering something about last night,
But I have no idea what it was,
It evaporated with the morning light.

Mowing

The rain had been thick and constant,
The world covered in grass,
It was growing absolutely everywhere,
I suspect even on my arse.
The mower had been standing idle,
Not needed in the drought,
But now it was expected to perform,
Beyond the shadow of a doubt.
I straddled the machine with deliberation,
Let off a nervous fart,
I prayed to God it would operate,
That this monstrosity would start.
It awakened with a reluctant roar,
Black bile belching out,
I punched the air with my delight,
And pealed off a mighty shout.
We thundered over hill and gully,
Leaving mulch behind,
We mowed everything in our path,
We mowed all that we could find.
A cane toad hopped away furiously,
For it’s life it did beg,
We hit it at twenty miles and hour,
Its remnants showering my leg.
I zapped around fallen logs,
The speed set to high,
I slalomed through the native trees,
Until one poked me in the eye.
I mowed the back of the dam,
Letting forth thunderous peals,
Until for a moment I lost control,
And was up on two wheels.
Vertigo clammily clasped my spine,
I thought I was in a dream,
That I’d joined an evil circus,
And was in the Precision Driving Team.
Time slowed down, then slowed again,
Like it never had before,
I was able to gain control,
And continue on wheels numbering four.
I admit I had been scared,
My Chi had bullied my Zen,
But next time ‘round I went faster,
So that I could do that stunt again.
I was leveling grass and branches,
From the tiny to the fat,
Until I stopped paying attention,
And mowed my sunglasses and my hat.
I stopped to refuel my maniacal machine,
It was surely running low,
I added some lubricant and some methanol,
To give it that extra go.
I continued to level all before us,
Over five acres did we roam,
Until I got off to get some plastic,
And the mower went on alone.
It bore a grudge for its rough treatment,
Retribution made it feel fine,
I’m not as fast as my blasphemous beast,
Now I have toes numbering nine.

Optical Mouse

I wonder about my optical mouse,
The best that I could find,
If it’s optical, does that mean,
That a conventional mouse is blind?
Or does it mean that it’s an anomaly,
For an optical mouse has no ball,
But in humans, the two go together,
For without one you can’t see at all.

Keys to Life

From this place I must escape,
I’m running up an emotional tab,
My mind these people are trying to control,
With their words my inside they stab.
So, from this place I shall shift,
My time here is at its end,
I shall insert myself somewhere else,
No forwarding address I will send.
I long to enter a new world,
A place that I can call “Home”,
Where I can delete the old agonies,
And spend some time alone.
I shall place a page up on the wall,
Record all that makes me frown,
Thus ridding myself of all atrocities,
Then I’ll rip that page down.
I’ll take a pause and ride the F4,
Take a break from being me,
I’ll open the scroll lock on my heart,
And throw away the key.
Then I’ll ride to my home again,
To my own backspace,
Put the caps lock on the door,
And curl up by the fireplace.

Your Present Future

In this you have found the past,
Preserving for the non-deserving,
The past is now worthy of your attention,
Eating up into the present.
But you use the present for the future,
Engineering its every nuance,
So that you can spend some of the future,
Presenting the past to those not there.
I’m getting tired of this preoccupation,
My present is not for your future accolades,
As you celebrate with those unimportant,
Moments that were not real.
Soon, you’ll realize we have no future,
For, presently you’ll look around you,
And see that I am gone,
Leaving you to a future,
That is made up of the past.

One-Way Room

The blades rotate with deliberate laziness,
Hoping to strike an errant limb,
They watch with mechanical intensity,
Hoping for a poor soul to stray in.
The door entices passers by,
To peek into the room,
Only to be caught in the transparent,
Yet inescapable vacuum.
The beast inside slumbers lazily,
Rested and well fed,
Dreaming of its last victim,
And how he removed its head.
For the Principal’s Office is such a place,
Where the errant become undead,
I don’t know if it’s true or not,
I’ve just heard it said.

The Grass is Always Greener

She was of a rebellious nature,
Desperate to be seen,
So, she bought the little bottle,
To die her pubic hair green.
Off to the tattooist for an inscription,
Above this colourful hair,
Thus, “Please keep off the grass”,
Was artfully inscribed there.
Until the day after some surgery,
She awoke to find her grass gone,
And pinned upon her chest was a note,
“Sorry, but we had to mow your lawn.”

Late Summer

The heat plummets from far above,
Inciting the humidity,
The airborne moisture coagulates,
To a point of rigidity.
The heat waves shimmy lazily,
The glare penetrates all,
Flora surrenders to the onslaught,
Letting extraneous appendages fall.
Fauna copes only marginally better,
Seeking any element of cooling,
Shade and breezes eagerly sought,
Or swimming in their own drooling.
The heat catches all by surprise,
Beings being gently roasted,
Then simmering in their own juices,
As their brains are lightly toasted.
Late summer is a rare joy,
Sapping the goodness from us all,
We wait with infinite inhalations,
For the arrival of next Fall.

Beetle

I fell to Earth from the light,
Landing upon my back,
Frantically propelling myself clockwise,
Upon my metallic carapace.
My legs find no handy purchase,
My world remains inverted,
Clockwise has proven to be no better,
I’m doomed to struggle until I perish.
Why do I struggle so interminably,
When it seems to be fruitless?
I live in hope for a miracle,
And I refuse to lie here and do nothing.

Meetings

Reluctant souls assemble disipiritedly,
United in their absolute apathy,
Collected against their flagging wills,
To discuss the painfully banal.
Conversation is dominated by the uninformed,
Balefully blustering their belligerence,
While minds wander to what is missed,
For they could be anywhere but here.

Gurgle

The gurgle starts from deep within,
Uncomfortable, yet oddly soothing,
Suggesting contents are increasingly restless,
And in danger of alarmingly moving.
North or south the options weighed,
Struggling like a soul possessed,
I knew that I would pay for this,
But with chili I am obsessed.