Living on a Prayer

You punish me for telling you my fantasy,
At night I lock the door so no one else can see,

Watch while the queen,
In one false move,

Turns herself into a pawn,

It’s like-
Drinking gasoline to quench your thirst until there’s nothing there left at all, I

Went to the doctor I,
Went to the mountains,

And then you happen to bring up reincarnation over,
A couple of beers the other night,

Spitting out all the bitterness along with half of my last drink,
This is no ordinary love,

Refrain!
Come Oberon!

Able only to gasp at the splendor of the sun,
Come satellite!

Saturns rings are lit by the Universe’s light!

For Simon

Photo – ♦Natsumi Hayashi

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On gender based toiletry

poem, gender, toilets

Attack your assailant with the baguette,
You are carrying in your hand.

Soft weapon.

Transgender toilet,
Beat the crap out of the hoodlum, male
Or female,

Black or white, think
Not you must explain,

Why, during the attack
Men should not wear,

Flaming pink knickers, demand
The sex of the person approaching,

On the dark night,
In the lovely cottage,

Be determined after you have finished
The mission.

The lady so obviously not,
In the red heels,

And the blue make-up

Knows how to use her baguette, just
Do not touch her strong leather hand-bag.

PictureViewpoint♦

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Cancer

decade_45pierreholtzreutersyeehee-com_2010_12_16_best-pictures-of-the-decade-the-noughties_.jpg

I’ve lost the use of my heart,
But I’m still alive,

When you cannot find the people you walked through life with,
You are still alive.

I hear voices and want to talk to everyone,

The hustler and the prostitute together in fur coats,
The glowing car salesman,
The mechanic,

Audible to me all,

The rat at the corner,
Selling drugs,

I’m crying everyone’s tears.

Photo♦Pierre Holtz for ReutersBest Pictures of the Decade

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Dying is the first race

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Never mind Lawyers,
Children with no mouths,

Never mind Inspiration,
Write Now.

Photo – ♦Personal♦

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Dumpster diving at midnight

800px-semana_santa_antigua_guatemala

Builders will continue to build, and
White folk dumpster dive

In the winter anyway,

In red,
And blue overalls, scavenge –

Scavenger,
Some for profit, others fun, and I

Cannot be a predator, I
Cannot carry luggage, I

Am dying, and

Perhaps giving things away, a
book or something will relive the pain, lord

Knows I just need some pain relief and, I
Just cannot afford to hoard now, how

I wish I had done this earlier like,
Forgiven my lover, myself –

Wait,
I’ll do it in dungarees, I am dying and I

Do not need to carry baggage, cannot take it with me, I’ll
Give out yellow popsicles instead.
 

photo – Holy Week, Guatemala♦

 

 

Midnight Gardener

jacob-y-angel-pelean

I hear God in cushion prints,
Leopard pants,

Ancestors,
We Forget;

What if it took place at midnight, would you

Stack hay and win,
Chicago with the broad shoulders,

Hunt mosquitos,
Midnight lover, the

Ebullient wrestler in a,
Pink Venetian mask,

Would you,
Be a brute,

Pretending the contender was not God,
Brisk breeze,

Be the one who,
Proof read the script,

Then promptly forgot,

Alzheimer,
And Jung?

Anger never works,
Anticipate.

Photo – Jacob and Esau

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The smell of new curtains

​​

It came from the right side like God, or a deer, a

Migraine warning;
Chemotherapy strikes at any time.

Where am I going wrong?

Under community skies and red roofed buildings, immaculate
And unfinished,

Holding on for next week’s rent,
Even if you were alive,

I’d not have listened,

Missing a father to say what’s wrong
In his opinion,

Old enough how,
To hear sterner words in music,

To understand that the clinic serves Japanese-Americans and Kenyans alike,
On the dusty Main Street of the farming village,

The dusty, ochre-coloured Main Street covered,
With maize drying, and

Women slipping from bus-stop to bus-stop with children in their hair, that was
Probably,

Paid for,
By a man with a plan – the clinic,

And mum’s words,
Soft and gentle and supportive,

And different from yours;

I can take it now daddy,
Where did I go wrong?

I can make things right now,
The deer came from the left.

And whilst hindsight works in accidents we do not see coming,
At least Cancer gives us time.

 

♦Photo♦ –  laurieanichols.wordpress.com

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