Poetry 'n Prose


Staggering past
the sneering dogs
I shove the gate and them aside
bludgeon my way up cobbled footpath
turning the lock in the key
storming over the doorway
falling through the bills,
solicitor’s correspondence,
begging letters and the bags
for recycling my wardrobe
till I have nothing left
to wear on my back

making my way
to the fitted kitchen I conjure
a beer from the fridge
then drop to the couch – bed – magic carpet
next to where you would sit
with me before we broke
the taste, the smell,
the wound of you
lingers on
like anti-bodies to happiness
as my frosted can finger tips
nudges my netbook
back into life

it comes alive
to the whirling sound
of memories
self-doubting situations
involving choice, risk
or responsibility:
the chances of love
or at least the possibility
that it might exist
over and above and aboard
the cosmic banana boat love songs
obeying the usual company baggage rules
of sexo-erotic-romantic

drinking up I recall the times
when playing my part
to keep love alive
meant living out of time
like distant planets
when venus was calling mars
mars wasn’t there
he took to long in orbit
he wasn’t to be
and so universe turns on
these hands keep on
searching for use
before time disappears
like tears in the sand.

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

3 replies on “Anti-Bodies”

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