The Fern

Surplus books

Scatter overpriced side tables

Side thoughts

Thought about

Too much

And walking past her

Who begs in a pitied hell

As the pits of olives

Drop from fed mouths

They read (loud)

‘You have too much

Time and money’

And she whispers (quiet)

‘Spare change, sir’

LED walkways

For hot totties

Drinking hot toddies

By the fern

Which slowly dies

But will be replaced tomorrow

By someone who dreamt

Of starting a business

By selling life to offices

But spends each day

Collecting and burying

The dead

Eels

Why did you say thanks

And offer your seat

No one does that here

⁃ People are too busy to be kind

Well you should stop

People will stare

How was work

‘How was work’

– It was just a normal day

Sometimes a normal day is a good day

Because it is sat between two bad days

And sometimes a normal day is just that

Completely average

Nothing worthy of note

But sometimes a normal day

Is the last thing you need

Sometimes you are expecting something extraordinary

And have to settle

For ‘normal’

Do you understand how tough that can be?

UTB

He spat his words

At my little tin cap

Which kept my thoughts warm

And ruffled the feathers

Behind my ears

They made hand gestures

Which offended

Further than across the field

And shouted hate

Through generations

But when ball hit net

They erupt

And bodies close in on bodies

And it is tender

More tender than they wish to admit

The Rude South

Commuters are like buses

And I am human

Or bus

Stuck in traffic

And everyone around me is beeping

Their voices

And the buses are ignoring each other

And no one is giving way

Or talking

Because we are all too desperate

To be away from each other

Not because we are the rude South

Or because London is lonely

But because this is life now

Or something like that

Thursday Night

I want to get home before you

And make dinner

Tidy and clean

And make my home feel like mine

I want you to walk in and kiss me

Not me to you

Because I haven’t spent a moment alone

Until now

Walking lonely in London

With so many other lonely people

And I thought about staying on the bus

Till the end of the line

Or getting off three stops early

So I can walk with myself

Hand in hand

And learn my body again

I remember her

She opens her eyes

as if for the first time

to her own tears

and doesn’t know how

or why

she is crying

and moments later

she wakes again

to her confused reality

and sobs slowly

 

She waits for him

to dry her tears

so she can forget again

 

 

It’s been a while

Its been a while

but life catches

takes you by surprise

and bites at your tail

It’s been a while

I’m sorry

But when him and her

and she and he take time

to organise

then life is left to linger

longingly online

It’s been a while

But here

Where I take time seriously

when it stops at the red light

(unlike some)

I can pause

and ponder

and forget outside these lines

black thick hairs

at the corners of my screen

sprout out

and ingrown

in my mind

 

…and yours too

hopefully…