The magician that is memory,
listens to old laughter,
remembering rudimentary lessons
that were taught but never learned,
teases the dreams from an alternate reality,
and feeds them into recollections,
making it impossible to discern
where the myth fades, and the man is earned.
I’ve known some quirky characters,
as I am sure you can believe,
like my mate with one leg called Dave,
whose other leg’s called Steve.
I know I’m thin on top,
so not to be caught unawares,
I’m tattooing rabbits on the bald,
so from a distance, they’ll look like hares.
The sound I hear from the world,
the music I feel from it’s soul,
is something that haunts,
and hates, it hurts and grates;
such Heavy Metal.
Such Heavy Metal.
I’m getting better with technology,
feeling less like an antique,
and really love E-bay, sold my
homing pigeons twice this week!
Silly little desks
with stuffy, boring people,
a hidden meaning,
when there was none.
in raps, rants and raves.
wanted on the syllabus,
so those sat at
the silly little desks –
might find poetry ‘cool’,
and the stuffy
will begin to appreciate
they will understand
the poet better,
if they cease dissecting
and enjoy them
for what they are: