Dear John

Dear John
Small minded solutions
Shields the future pollution

Deflecting all voices that may contain reason
Defying all logic of National treason.

You are warm and safe
And oh so secure
Spoon feeding yourself with foul mind manure.

Unpalatable produce fuels your brain contortion
Tis a shame your beliefs won’t allow self-abortion.

But that is you choice
I can’t revoke your voice.

The idiot box
Has your mind under locks
Old John has the keys
But you do not want these
I hope that one day you’ll descend from the trees.

Should have gone to law school, but I couldn’t afford the intuition

Illusions
Confusions
False thoughts of self-grandeur
Handshakes and pancakes
And breakfast, false candour
A whole social structure that won’t understand your
Need for a kind eye to read the next stanza.

I erase jotted scratching’s with my rubber sander
The words breed in your mind like a limp dick old Panda.

Shooting literary blanks between publisher thighs
You watch on with amusement and curious eyes
Wondering ‘is this it?’
Yes you’ve seen the demise
Of a man chose words
Over suits and silk ties.

Do you have a spare dollar?

Please don’t lie in our simple exchange
Or I will not part with my jingling pie change.

I know you don’t need it to catch the bus home.

Your hard crusted feet give away ill crafted lies
I can see the deep sadness encased in your eyes
I don’t mind giving money to hold at bay your demise
Buy your glue and your booze, maybe some fries.

I’d do the same
If I were in your game.

Beaten down at some stage by the human condition
I sure as hell do not envy your shitty position
But I do not believe it was a conscious decision
I despise hurtful eyes and their cynic incision
Clouded by their ill judgement and societal vision.

Ask for it directly
My name is Trevor you can be frank
“I just need some cash to fill my booze tank”
I’ll part with my coins in my back wallet bank
It hurts even more when you give me your thanks.

It means lots to you to me it’s a pie
Just give me a nod and a simple goodbye.

Come down from your bigot tree

You reminisce of far gone simpler times
A time of wide divided lines
When black was black
And white was white
When this viewpoint was still alright.

You remember when gay was having fun
Instead of hotdogs in men’s buns
When men were men
And spades were spades
Before their kind invented aids.

That was then
This is now
Engage your mind
Put your views to bed
It’s time to mend your frail head.

Let people be
Who they will be
Come down from your bigot tree.

My friend in a rut

Two pairs of eyes
And mine makes three
These tiny things
They do perceive
The very same things that do deceive

One pair wants him
The other me
I like them both
And that makes three.

My Kingdom for a smoke

Give me a cigarette as tall as a minaret.
But I don’t want one.
“Yes you do.”

I can see the nicotine, it does its best to intervene.
“Whatever do you dopamine?”
I don’t like it.
“Yes you do.”

“You don’t like it?”
Yes I do.

Here comes the smoking train
I open wide and don't complain
The dopamine has hit my brain

But I don't,
Fuck it.
Yes I do.

Hold on, timing is key

Men’s public toilets require impeccable timing
Get it right
At all costs
Make no error in judgement.

Get it right
And you will enjoy the pure bliss that comes from the emptiness of yourself
Marvel at the pearly white porcelain
It is fit for a king
Don’t feel bad for messing it up
You have earned it.

But get it wrong
Oh dear God
I try not to entertain the notion
You poor sad fellow.

Get it wrong
You will be consumed by the rancid depths
A residual ether from a stranger’s poor diet
It fills your nostrils to capacity
You can almost smell the bowel cancer hanging heavy in the air.

Or worse yet
Here comes a muscle clad
Homophobic
Sport fan
Staring at your dick for competition.

I think I can hold on.