Hold The Feelings, Thanks

What's muesli for?

Why are cats?

What do reality shows about women who are married to famous men do?

How do conversations about shoes justify themselves?

What has carrot got to do with cake? What has cake got to do with carrot?

Who is that singer, the one that sang that song?

Yes, more bacon please, and a conversation with no feelings in it, thanks.

Thank you.



Parkstreet

Drum, Song Lyrics

Drum (song lyrics)


Your heart
Beats me like a drum, no
And your eyes
They burn me like the sun.
Your mouth
Shoots me like a gun.
My love,
We've only just begun.

I'm going to ride it like a wave,
And sail it like a storm.
Gonna' ride you like a wave,
Sail you like a storm.

Your touch
Breaks me like a string,
And your arms,
They bind me like a ring.
Your kiss
Thaws me like the Spring.
My love,
You are my little wing.

I'm going to ride it like a wave,
And sail it like a storm.
Gonna' ride you like a wave,
Sail you like a storm.

Parkstreet

Ko-fi

Day Is Done

Day is done.
Pull the orange blind,
Pull the black curtain.

Day is done.
Shut the candle,
Blow out the door.

Day is done.
Squeeze out the last of the toothpaste,
Spit out the last of the feelings.

Day is done.
Shed clothes,
Shed skin.

Day is done.
Bed alone,
Bed alone.

Day is done.
Pull the black curtain,
Day is done.






Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

He Wrote This Poem For Her

He wrote this poem for her, 
Wrote it carefully,
In his best handwriting,
On a clean sheet of paper.

Folded the paper neatly,
Slotted this poem he wrote for her into the back of his passport.

And left.






Parkstreet

Passing

Denim shorts clinging, pony tail swinging, firm thighed stride of youth and purpose, pert breasted optimism, new, unbroken, passing me by leaving the scent of memory, lost opportunity, the one that got away, denim shorts clinging, pony tail swinging.





Parkstreet

Bar Siren

Long of leg
And firm of bottom.
Smart one liners?
You bet she's got 'em.

Straight of back
And pert of breast.
She'll spritz you spirits,
With a zest.

Tight of jeans
And tight of top.
She'll smile at you,
Until you stop,
Tipping.





Parkstreet

I Am Lost In The Waving Purple

Her eyes
Are not the colour of lavender,
But they are.


Up close
They are distinct, faceted flowers,
But they aren't.


Her eyes.
I am lost in the waving purple.
Lavender.





Parkstreet