Willemyns

Staring at the space
Where the stolen Mona Lisa
Once was,

Staring at the space
Where Patrick’s cooking
Once was.




Parkstreet

Ko-fi

Belly

The reflection
Of the sunset
On a cockatoo’s
Belly,
Is better than
Whatever you
Are watching on the
Telly.

Parkstreet

(With a nod to the great Spike Milligan.)

Ko-Fi

As The Dumb Blossoms

Non traditional

Haiku, expressing nothing

As the dumb blossoms

Parkstreet

Wake Up Sleepy Darling

Wake up, wake up sleepy darling, wake up. It's morning and I need you.

It's morning and you need to go to work. Don't go. I'll call in for you, say you've lost your voice. Don't go. You don't look so well.

You look wonderful.

Don't get up and hide yourself away in underwear and outerwear and your work face, stay with me, naked, show me your loving face. I need you. The dawn watch has hoisted the mainsail, the big top is in town, I'm harder than conjugating Icelandic verbs, I need you.

Wake up, wake up, but don't wake up too much, stay half asleep and let me woo you into staying. Your work needs you but I need you more. Your work will be there tomorrow. Of course I will be here tomorrow too, but I need you now and your work can wait.

Call it a sick day, I need you to stay and heal my pain.

Wake up, wake up sleepy darling. It's morning and I need you.

Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

The Cool Change

John
Bought a motorcycle
To work on
Instead of working on
Getting heroin.

John had never heard
Of zen
Or the art of motorcycle maintenance,
But there
He was.

Until we had five days
And five nights
Of heat
And John
Had no air conditioning.

And John
Got heroin
And John’s motorcycle
Rusted
In the rain
Of the cool change.



Parkstreet

Ko-Fi

Untitled

The blood black ink
Of the pen you gave me
Will soon be dispersed
Across the full moon emptiness
Of my paper.

Its shades of grief
Will cast long strong shadows
Deep into the image
Of moonshine that I created,
For you.

The whisper of that ink
Is as sure as sunrise.
The insolence of youth;
Craving a perfect expanse
Of whiteness.




Parkstreet 

And The Orange Was Made Of Orange

In the good old days
A man took a big block of ice,
Shaved shards into a glass,
Poured cordial
Your favourite flavour
On top.

And the strawberry cordial was made of strawberry
And the orange was made of orange.

In the good old days
There was a riddle,
A man hanging
Above a puddle,
But today no one
Has seen a block of ice
Large enough
For a man
To kill himself
Slowly,
Whimsically,
Using one of the makings
Of an innocent treat.
This hasty,
Throwaway generation
Leaves only an overturned,
Kicked away,
Flatpack
Chair.

And the strawberry cordial was made of strawberry
And the orange was made of orange.




Parkstreet

Ko-Fi