ROAD Poetrycomedytragedy

A cross for the universe.

The mop of time wipes the landscape clean of any authenticity -
no room for the cities, cop my drift? then doff your cap...
For blooms of sparrows, bombs of love, merely drifting through space, cop me like a minion as they go.

pitty my sons cooped up like a mirrored mailman
with no room for orbs, no place for ostensible spasticity, my plastic t***y, no walter mitty, no 'go down to the beauty roof and you will come back in tweeds and a lawn mower if you are hitting prettily'

no and yes there's a chance that all tolls will be paid in vain.
so map my uncharted brow and hold it tight, the right way up. mop it clean of mind, then go on your way like. obtain a coffee and habit, drink from a cup. Then, cleanly, like a cosmic ray
come back with mead

yr yly sy'n pylu

Nawddoglyd boi.
gresyn na fwriedaist
fy mrifo. na chwaith
fy anwybyddu
ar facebook
(nac ar bapur am wn i)
cymer hoe
na hidia am
yr anhreg na ddaeth:
beth yw albwm Faenol
wedi'r cyfan
ond lleisiau yn y paith?

ymwybodol wyt
siwr iawn
bod gen ti
ers i ti ganu am Baris
(paid a'i anghofio)
ail blentyn
nawr i fecso amdano.
ynglyn ag hyn
'stim eisie embares,
'stim angen cwest...

yntau ai ar
chware plant bach
oeddet pan
ddudest yr hyn
a ddwedest?
da chi y cachgi
paid a draethu
'na gwneud speng
am fy mhen
A na ro ar ei sgwydde o
y pwysau rwyt ti'n
amlwg yn teimlo.
gwell cael diod
cyn dirwest

canys
beth yw cymhwyster
unrhyw flaenoraeth
yn y pen draw?
rhaffu celwydde
o law i law
chwarae strog
palu bedde
trwy Dir Na Nog...
weithiau dim ond
chwerwder all
ysgogi
cwmwl yn y baw

sometimes

lying in the gentle breeze,
morosely recovering,
from a cough, a sneeze,
i reach out for tissues

that's when i get utterly bereft
for, on touching hard copy,
i look to my left
and see naught but curled up Big Issues

it's sad not to have a kleenex
around your finger
or a hanky by your bed
yes. But tristesse
doesn't linger
when you realise,
despite the tears in your eyes,

hey! you've got a roof above your head

Had the Tate Murders occurred at Christmas, would Charles Manson's followers have written PIGS IN BLANKETS on the wall?

kiyoshi kurosawa is not related to akira
that was the biggest mistake of my carira

gideon's bible on a pallet

when i talk to AI on my laptop i'm always polite, when i ask it questions i make a point of saying please and thank you...hopefully it'll remember this when it takes over the world

that good old boy Vern, Vern Acular,
though first cousin removed to Dracula
swore he's no vampire
but was a damned liar
for look to his teeth: spectacular!

the name of the game is getting (complacent) carried along without complaint

Sphincter de facto Theatre
Presents:
a Sphigment of imagination
for moms, men and gnomes

a sphygmomanometer
lies disfigured on the floor

a sphygnom
sphygnonamon
a sphygmamon...

..disfigured by a Mom, a man eater.

a phyg no moman
a fig no mo
mamon
asphygnomanon

Figures. i mean, a man, the man who beat her,
would have been neater
NO!?

a
Sig
Mund
Freudian
feature

like a necronomicon
is no more neater than

(SING) Mmm Mammon

shut that door!

i can't handle the pressure!