I wove my own web and netted my prize,
I cold-pressed my words and refined my disguise.

I goggled at life and faced up to that book,
I tumbled and tweeted and baited my hook.

I blipped and I blogged, I bantered and blushed,
I followed and friended, I grovelled and gushed.

I doled out the instant, ten grams at a time,
To fuel my addiction for caffeine and rhyme.

I reshopped my pic, I swiped left, I swiped right,
I pinned and I posted deep into the night.

I gloated and gossiped, I chatted and cheered,
I logged in and logged out without favour or fear.

For is it not fun - this mad media storm?
Viewing and voting from dusk until dawn.

Yet love me or like me, let it never be said,
That despite how it seems, it’s gone to my head.

Congrats! Your thin!
Go home and grin,
Freely roam
Atone
Forget former days
And steak fillets
Still a fake
Just now tame when you're next to a cake
Though still completely the same
Which is really quite the shame
So you went for fame
To make a name
Grovelled to beg
Upon a bold mans leg
Only to be told
You were far too old
You go back home,
Alone.
Eat heavy scones,
The belt line becomes blown
Up
About the time you buy a pup
Who'll be drinking next to you from a cup
As the two watch TV,
Never to flee.
Finish alone
Pup soon outgrown.
Never leave the home,
Or hear a ringing phone.
But at least you're now a size three
Eating no more than a cup of tea
People really respond to that
whole notion of not being fat

Grey whistles spoke shrilly
Of wishes never seen
As I sought a hobby that ne'er
Grovelled to'r machine
I saw those moor harpies asleep in their crow
There was a sentence lying dormant in me

Without much more than history lessons
To go forth was a hefty sentence
Making conversation pieces
Of the rocks I met along the way
And I hoped that one day I might
Be there for the rise
And fall of 10p states

To sentence them to mutiny
Silly, shrilly and ne'er hopeful
But at least not airborne, at least rooted
In hobbies gainst the machine
What a terrible lot, indeed
What a lot of terrible days

Ah, well
At the running track I feel
The sentence dormant in me
Bolt upright, turning the grey
On its head, as harpies fall
Into the earth and the stars come down for me

And up the hill we climbed
A singin' and a swingin'
But they switched off the stars
So we stumbled and grovelled.

Dishes to ashes
Lust to dust
And we all fall down.

Eyes glaring the unbounded horizon,
Lying on the ground baffled with a hunch.
Asking myself what could be my purpose, the reason of my subsistence?
For decades I have scoured this Earth for answers.

Got lost in words, nerves cracking, knees shaking, teeth chattering.
In the calmness of the night, I lay on this cold hard ground.
Right before my eyes, vast of darkness swift into infinity.
Numbness grovelled into my anatomy, clobbered cold as death with this idiocrasy.

Trying to break the silence, to bail out from the fact of existence.
Depart secretly across dimensions, abscond all the recollections.
Turning back time can be option, yet puzzled who will do this notion?
Pieces aren't yet gathered and this voyage ain't over, I took a glimpse on the mirror and saw a stranger full of queries that needs answer.

You were the limb that I longed for
A piece of soul I fell hard for
But in the end you selfish and cold
Made me twist my fingers to cut at the wrist
Cut of that much loved part of me I thought Had made me all complete

And I thought I was the *****
But I was pulling the stitch that you had sewn before the cloth was washed
matched and measured fit

All I wanted was for you to keep going
Sewing the stitch consistent and bliss until we could wash and measure it
No change of seam from you to me we would be one in synchrony
But you would barely defend that you were my friend and danced around something more
From my compassion I thought it was a lashing to tell you what to do with me
I hate begging a friend to love and mend my self as I would more than do for them
Funny I begged
I never would pledge my knees to the ground
But I grovelled in gravel under your hands that refused to lift me up
Where some how too busy to simply pull out the friend from meeting a blue end or a self drawn tragedy
Instead you let me grab your feet while you never moved a peep to realise you were never standing there
False stating your stance while you go and dance among other worthy subjects
So I let go each digit hoping you would still come as I could hear your voice in the distance.
My knees bleed on the floor and friends come out to draw a cloth and help me
I was unknown of the red because my eyes were bowed as my head begging a man who was never there
So sad to hear and gloomy to know
All because I fell in love with a boy

A CHAIR IN THE SKY

But now--Manhattan holds me
To a chair in the sky
With the bird in my ears
And boats in my eyes
Going by

Joni Mitchell -  A Chair in the Sky from her 1979 Mingus album

**

I break cleanly through the dream
gasping for morning
"Well, hello there!" smiles the newest day

I still had memories
clasped in my hand
but they lost their lustre  in the light

"Glad to have you back with us!"
shouted the room a little too loudly
and the furniture agreed wholeheartedly

they needed a human
to give them a purpose
otherwise they were just pieces of wood

sunlight grovelled
fawning at my feet
licking the tips of my toes

the window had arranged
trees and flowers and fields
to prove the existence of a world

the curtains breathed in then
out again
the lungs of the room

I gathered myself together
put on my Past...searching for my Present
"Now where did I put my Future?"

"Read me...read me!"
a dog-eared book demanded
barking page 69 all the time

"Shut it!" I told it
shutting it
it falling silent

soon the morning came
fully into being
"How do you do?" it enquired politely

"Fine..." I lied "Fine!"
now where the hell
did I leave my mind

I found it under
some dried up dreams
that had escaped from sleep

my mind was a little rusty
but still worked
even if a little slowly

"Ok...ok!" shouted the day
"Let's get this
existence on the road!"

"Do you have to shout..?" I moaned
"No..." it whispered
"...but can we get on with it!"

Reality is...I thought
a foreign country
they do things differently there.

A CHAIR IN THE SKY

But now--Manhattan holds me
To a chair in the sky
With the bird in my ears
And boats in my eyes
Going by

Joni Mitchell -  A Chair in the Sky

**

I break cleanly through the dream
gasping for morning
"Well, hello there!" smiles the newest day

I still had memories
clasped in my hand
but they lost their lustre  in the light

"Glad to have you back with us!"
shouted the room a little too loudly
and the furniture agreed wholeheartedly

they needed a human
to give them a purpose
otherwise they were just pieces of wood

sunlight grovelled
fawning at my feet
licking the tips of my toes

the window had arranged
trees and flowers and fields
to prove the existence of a world

the curtains breathed in then
out again
the lungs of the room

I gathered myself together
put on my Past...searching for my Present
"Now where did I put my Future?"

"Read me...read me!"
a dog-eared book demanded
barking page 69 all the time

"Shut it!" I told it
shutting it
it falling silent

soon the morning came
fully into being
"How do you do?" it enquired politely

"Fine..." I lied "Fine!"
now where the hell
did I leave my mind

I found it under
some dried up dreams
that had escaped from sleep

my mind was a little rusty
but still worked
even if a little slowly

"Ok...ok!" shouted the day
"Let's get this
existence on the road!"

"Do you have to shout..?" I moaned
"No..." it whispered
"...but can we get on with it!"

Reality is...I thought
a foreign country
they do things differently there.

Now, he ended up on an island. Was he alone? You bet. An island in a city, an ocean, a desert.
Every once in a while someone came by or he met this someone and they formed a twosome.
On a Monday some flotsam carried in Man Monday.
He showed him how to contemplate the moon, sit still, wait till the sunlight shone around and in him. And with the sun Man Monday disappeared.
On a Tuesday who walked up but Man Tuesday.
This guy was service personified. He saw to his every need and wakened an urge in him to serve himself. So he kicked him out, with many thanks.
On a Wednesday in came lively Man Wednesday. What entertainment, philosophical conversation. Like, see that sand castle? That’s a mirage. True, but wait till it rains, it’ll be hell-to-shelter. At that point Man Wednesday’s course had run it’s course.
On a Thursday in parachuted Man Thursday. Now, this how you make a fire. For roasting and warming. Good, let’s cook because it’s warm enough here. After the meal Man Thursday rocketed off back to the skies.
On a Friday in crusoed Man Friday. From an earlier story he knew this one was as loving as he was silent. Smile, big brown eyes, was all he communicated. And his silence was warm and cold, sweat and shiver. Like a fever. One day he canoed off to his own island.
On a Saturday slowly Man Saturday emerged. Together they grovelled and toiled. Things fell apart, they learned patience and resilience. Man Saturday was slow to leave, there was no hurrying him.
On a Sunday in marched Man Sunday. The party began, music and dance. All in worship of the Copper Cudgel, the Sacred Scorcher, the Friendly Furnace. And left him with the debris.
And who came by the next day?
Man Tomorrow. All open space, 360 degrees view, that’s what he had to offer.
Anything can happen
Anyone can come by
Anywhere you find without looking
Anyhow something shows
Anyway….. well, he goes without saying.

the ladder is just a make thing; i will just have it
presently in the garden while another is started
of twigs

if google has saved the image now
i will send it

in my mind i know others have done such things
each one comes different

if only all will understand that we are all different
and that is fine

the leaves became the trees and decided to stay
as minimal
on the same paper
as before

i understand your excitement
for i feel that i should be so
with maybe added trepidation
at the mechanics

of that and all things

i have a project under the hedge
grovelled about there yesterday

now have so much ******* need to
burn a fire
before

i clear much more

sixty is a good number
to be added and divided

so i hope the day comes good
even better than yesterday james