Posts tagged misreadings

TME KMPRN (It’s cool, but it’s not poetry is it?)

TME KMPRN

Taught to dream
not with his head
but with his hands.

Inside he’s naked
and a little girl.
She loves, and alone
They leave, and die
young dos elastique
and so the sea finds
comical the combinations
in French soils .

Now never screaming
froid et subtle
dates nor eyes
nor your voice
added with their wounds
move our city of displacement.

And I am left screaming:
WHY SHOULD I PAY THE COUNCIL TAX?

Bastards.

Poem: The Solution

The Solution

I under colours, suffers
my driving thoughts
all day through.

It grows so immense
that before I know it,
I am lost in open waters.

I asked my father, never short of
absurd and profound truths,
whether I should discard
the horrible eyes of English
as though it were a well-defined illusion

Still I know
had he told me different
I would have cried tears
that could split atoms,
as I clung like a coastal city
onto the edge of my identity.

poem: sixth (smile)

____

SIXTH

subdue

hissssteria of those troublesome female mass es
 eased with antihisteriamines         let’s get fiscal:
  and pass       the deep congress ional act
   she said do we need protectionism?
    seminal      cash injections leave a mess
     on both your economy and mine
      pre servativ o ur values are not gd
       truncated that growth stimulus package easily
        feeling the explosion        of that cap italicism
         s crunch the fabric     and col lapse into
          the  arms of     the latest word isms


misreadings

scribbles in a second hand book

doodles, scribbles and misreadings are like ghosts

‘Yes, there are only ever misreadings, of course; but mine is the correct one…’
Donald Paterson, The Book of Shadows
COPS RELEASE TIGER –

911 CALL at the end.

Brightened my commute to London.

BROWN SHUFFLES HIS CABARET.

Suppose our misreadings are something else?

Paris in the
the spring

Tiny foreign bodies flying past a lense unnoticed

beast

bicicletta-felicità; felicità
amiable beast profound and literary
dressed in english cotton
despite its its years
does not feel guided by literary texture
but by machine-readable form