“Bon Voyage, my dear sir”
But the porridge ain’t set yet.
It reminded me of something I heard
when I was told to get jet-set.
Black an’ blue in the middle
you comb your hair with a silver spoon.
And I don’t know you but I’ve got a feeling I will
do soon.
Just like how I already know the
dark side of the moon.

“Oh wait waiter. Please cup your hands.
Like a pilgrim in prayer.
For such a thing as love
is such,
that it leads you nowhere.”
“Smile son, lift up your cheeks.
Put down your gun, the
reverent speaks
in a whisper like the
thunderin’ beaks of
a-thousand birds in the South of Greece”

“But Darling O, no, don’t do that.
Please don’t make these feelings fall flat.
Like the cold spring of June
when you’re without a hat -
Stick your head under a water mat.”

“And the human condition.
isn’t so lightly judged.
As to poems, I begrudge
My left arm because, out of choice,
you’re speaking in a human voice
and listening to yourself
with your human ears,
pricked up like deer,
immersed in fear of
the scavenger waiting,
indulging in your words,
and gathering up strength,
for that final surge,
For your throat, where he will
stop your speech.
And you know,
that Little Red Riding Hood
was only a fable.
But to tell that to your mother is like
explaining Cain an’ Able.
But you don’t know what
you’re meant to be,
‘cos everything you do
you can’t believe,
and everything done
you can’t believe,
and everything that will be done
you can’t believe
‘On earth as it is in heaven’
Since where the are
the Seven Hells of a-Jeroth?
And everything’s just gone and lost it’s appeal
to you, you don’t care
‘how it feel’
‘cos you don’t feel,
You breath

To be continued…