Humour, Rantings

10 things that make me stabby

  • folding clothes in neat piles
  • hip-hop played louder than listening speed
  • people with bombs strapped to their chest and a smile on their face
  • small children in waiting rooms who need to be exorcised
  • a blocked toilet without a plunger
  • people who ask me for a light before they look for a cigarette in my hand
  • hobo joe and his dreamcoat crammed next to me on the bus
  • a bad can opener who laughs at me and my last can of beans
  • after a poetic dump, a brown roll looks back at me and waves

 

PhilosopherPoet

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poetry

untitled

there’s a poet buried inside
of me – somewhere in the veins of my clothes
he vibrates through
the melody of my words

shut up! (i tell him)
i am trying to think & live in the fragments
of the real world

last night the streaks of
rain ran in rivulets
into his soft bones
i could hear a gurgle or two
escape from his morose throat

except today
well, it changed him like the
laughter of laundry that
scampers from the toasty depths of the dryer

(what i’m trying to say is)
that poet began to smile today
when the trees exploded with gossip
and a stutter of squirrels
painted the neighbourhood
almost like a poet does – like
it was meant to be

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