I disinvent me
by clearing out the caché
and deleting my history
before taking pot luck
with my search engine
the new me
knows the difference now
between stalagmites
and the other ones
partial song for Sunday
singing out loud
what I’m thinking today
as the sun rolls by
sitting in a deckchair
dreaming, yeah yeah
just dreaming
no thoughts screaming
’cause
I’m setting them free
as soon as they’re born
by singing out loud
what’s in my head today
A Very Merrie Bloomsday
it already rained on Bloomsday
so I’m feeling pretty moist
but at least I’m not flat in the grave
like dear old Jimmy Joyce
this was to be a limerick
fit to make the angels weep
the first two lines I had last night
but then I fell asleep
Instead I took another road
like good old Finnegan
so you didn’t get a limerick
you got this, the other one
Just Say No
lobster’s don’t smoke pot you know
nor do they snort cocaine
and using claws to shoot up smack
can really be a pain
so be a good crustacean
and peer pressure ignore
or you’ll one day end up half baked
within in a thermidor
5-7-5 (take one-hundred-and-eighty-five : nightie)
you are the bee’s knees
clad in the cat’s pyjamas
can’t wait for bedtime
a poem that neither rhymes nor reasons
I have no personal symmetry
which is why I seek
its order in my surroundings
and why I also
consider my nose too large
and shapeless
5-7-5 (take one hundred and eighty four : just awake)
one in the morning
and the whole world is silent
except for your sighs
The Mill : a short fiction as prose
he watched her stroll
towards the windmill
and her flaming hair
told him
its sails
were simply for display
Poppies (a remembrance)
we painted poppies at the beach
on shells and flat stones
and the tide washed them away
more quickly than our tears
The Chronicles of le roi Artu (an epic attempt in pieces, day one)
good King Arthur
built upon
a hill in Cadbury
a chocolate fort
of Ritter Sport
renown’d in history
