Category: Poems (page 9 of 73)

heya cometh everyboddeeee! right out of the sleigh:
purring like honey from a see-through plastic bag!

& the dread, the dead night-cruise drops its beats
& sings 'la la la la la la laaaaaaa' like a lidl lamb!

hey did i dream all of that? or are we all still here,
shouting 'ship to shore' from the top of the stuga?

life is a fritidshus that belongs to someone else -
but iiiii'm still standing here, in the soupy dimma

& that's my dilemma: stay sane, or else go barking
up the trunks of unfamiliar trees; well, i think i know

which way you'll lean, & so i'll engrave our names
on the nearest manhole cover & call it kul, or jul:

coz blekinge's wastes hold yesterday's rain & crawl
like bereaved remainders 

           of midsomma 
                              (& madness

just how did the moon stay magnetic? 
answer: something to do with the sea
or the way the dolphin cow calls to
her calf: a little click - there, maybe
a whistle, every second or so, then 
a brief empty eternal moment before
she echolocates that tiny response - 
whether far away or close - just as
long as it comes, once a second or so
like the blinking eye of a lighthouse
signalling rocks, signalling a breath
that's not empty, that's never still,
a beat sharp as a daydream or smoke
on the horizon (that signals a passing
cruise liner, the rush to ignite bonfires,
defeat the marauding shark that never
sleeps, not like the cold, dead moon
that's nevertheless magnetic, tiny death
washed up on some faraway beach where 
lovers walk in the moonlight, kicking 
sand with perfectly painted toenails,
rolling like a post-magnetic wave furls
forever against the reef, dolphin calf
nudged with a pectoral fin, the burst!
like a bullet through the salty water's
medium, the rush of blood through blue
veins (the moon calling endlessly to her
lover, her mother, forever in captivity
breaching now like a song in still air

... my face on yr space (rule #1: clone tagging!
      the school for the too-cool, hispter-brew,
      squeaky shoes - taggin' ... 'n' braggin'! 

done tagging my place get into yr space-(acne)
      new tool, tru blue hood, flute reeds 'n'
      music sheet screeds wot i wrote, emo(t)!

done tagging, so i'm tur(n)ing now to slaggin'
      grange hill replicas, appendectomies, emm ...
      lap answers (ZOMG) to yr velodromances!

... my race in yr two-faced analogue haterz - 
      yo, srly? & back off chrome-nose, pooh-
      bear hose & pass the amyl bag, bones!?

oh noes, all my tags like sprayed in yr face!
      disgrace (eg larsson 'widow' carryin' mace
      why dontcha tie this-a, shoelace! salam-

ander, salam! - tag this space (& gracefully 
      degradez, slam salam i am an anagram &
      the signature tune (the spoon (imoon!))

... my tag & yr space in the book of some face
      a la buttery biscuit bass i'm done tagging 
      & yr like amazed? 

                          like a flowa in a vaze?

could i possibly be somewhere near you
forever and a day or more if that’s okay?

can i hide my face in your neck’s hollow
or else just stand next to you on a bus?

riding together for several happy stops,
with our shoulders barely touching at all

but somehow just there adjacent to each
other or in parallel like quiet streets

that will never intersect but nevertheless
exist simultaneously on time-worn maps

could we be denizens of that dizzy grid?
our arms linked together just so, breezy?

i’d gladly register my body as a business
if only i knew where to file this request